Bruce was taken aback.
At this mont, he gained a new understanding of the ga. At least he reckoned so. Had the ga, in its attempt to increase difficulty, reached such an insane level that they could mold a little girl out of thin air?
Bruce took a step back, looking at the little girl standing before him, springing to life with vibrant lit eyes. He found it hard to believe that she was a virtual character created by the ga developers.
After so hesitation, Bruce stepped forward, knelt on one knee and looked into the little girl's eyes. "What did you call ?" he asked.
The little girl looked slightly confused, but soon her face took on a 'Eureka!' expression. "You are 'other Dad'," she said.
Bruce was taken aback again. It took him a few seconds to understand. He caressed the little girl's head and asked, "Are you the daughter of another universe's Bruce Wayne?"
The little girl nodded her head vigorously.
"What's your na?"
"My full na is Elizabeth Martha Wayne, but you can call Aisha," the little girl recited as if she had been practicing.
At the ntion of Martha, Bruce's hand paused montarily, then he caressed the little girl's head again and called, "Aisha?"
Aisha nodded her head vigorously, revealing a beaming smile.
The sight of her smile startled Bruce. The rows of pointed teeth added a hint of terror and eeriness to the sweet little girl.
"Your teeth..."
"Hmm, dentist... Hmm.. braces," Aisha stuttered, clearly not as fluent in this part of her story, managing to get only a couple of words out.
Bruce moved into a squat, glanced back into the room, checked his pockets for change, sighed, and said, "Well, no matter which Bruce Wayne is your dad, it seems I have to take care of you now. Otherwise, just based on your appearance alone, the judge would convict of abandonnt."
Bruce stood up, took Aisha's hand and said, "I guess this place is strange to you too, so we'll have to adjust together."
When he turned back, he saw Aisha staring at his face. Bruce touched his cheek and asked, "What's the matter? Is there sothing on my face?"
Aisha shook her head.
As they walked into the elevator, Aisha asked, "Where are we going?"
"To have a al," Bruce said as he adjusted his jacket. "But our money and clothing aren't enough for a fancy restaurant. You've probably not had fast food before, have you?"
"I have. My mom took to all the fast food joints in Gotham," Aisha spoke with so difficulty, but despite her slow speed of speech, the usage of words and logical expressions were completely in line with her age.
Bruce imdiately looked intrigued. "Who's your mom?" he asked.
"I'm not telling you." Aisha turned her head to the other side, refusing to speak further.
No matter how Bruce asked thereafter, Aisha remained silent. The elevator quickly reached the ground level. As soon as he tried to leave, a white woman with a bunch of keys erged from a small door next to the mailbox.
She pointed at the mailbox and Bruce went over, only to find the box that represented his apartnt stuffed with bills.
Bruce held his head and stood there for a while. He figured that, without a doubt, sothing unexpected was about to happen.
But he couldn't afford any mishaps. If it were just himself, he could handle not being able to pay the rent or the bills. At most, he'd sleep on the streets, a place he'd beco acquainted with during his cri-fighting exploits. But he couldn't take such a young little girl to live on the streets, and in this universe, it was unlikely her mother could be located to take custody of her.
Bruce sighed deeply and caught Aisha looking at him. He turned his head and said to Aisha, "It looks like I need to find a job after dinner. Let's go."
After speaking, he once again took Aisha's hand and exited the lobby of the apartnt building.
As the piercing sunlight hit his face, Bruce felt as if he was in a different world.
Before entering the Battleworld ga, Bruce had just suffered a minor setback in his fight against cri. He'd stord a party and, instead of gaining anything, was left with injuries.
With no leads on the murderer of his parents and no justice to be served, he was convinced that he had hit rock bottom. Little did he know that he was just beginning to fall.
After entering the Battleworld ga, Bruce discovered a peculiar phenonon: everyone had unrealistic expectations of him.
It was simply astounding, bordering on mysterious. Why did everyone think he could miraculously pull out so savior equipnt and solve all difficulties?
Was he the magic flask from so wish-granting well?
And when he couldn't deliver, they would show their disappointnt. Bruce was sure he wasn't mistaken. Though they hid their feelings well, their disappointnt was genuine.
But why were they disappointed?
Then Bruce gradually understood that he was probably the weakest Batman among all the Batmans in every universe.
The other versions of himself were incredibly powerful, to an extent that even Bruce could not comprehend how they managed to create so many miracles that seed impossible.
But what deeply saddened him the most was that, even though these other versions of himself were so strong, not one of them was able to avoid tragedy or reverse it.
Towards the end of the old version of Battleworld, Bruce was tempted by the technologies displayed in the marketplace. He knew he needed these things, so he had been preparing for this ever since he returned to his universe.
Sure enough, one day an owl landed on the attic of Wayne Manor, bringing a test invitation for the new version of Battleworld. Bruce signed his na without a second thought.
But now it seed that the test version was probably intended for the other Batn. As for him? He should probably just cut his losses and go to sleep.
Coming down to the garage, Bruce found his second-hand Ford, standing out among the shiny new cars.
Bruce could imagine the looks he got when he parked this beat-up car here. The apartnt residents must have wondered how soone who drove a car like this could afford to live here.
But Bruce didn't even look at the bills in his hand. He knew that the bills this neighborhood would generate would leave him without any hope of staying here.
But the good news was, Aisha's appearance ant that even if he drove a car like this, people wouldn't mistake him for a human trafficker.
As expected, he was stopped for inspection four tis through two blocks. Bruce was asked countless questions, but no one asked him if this was his daughter.
Even the rudest officer just looked at Bruce, looked at the car, looked at Aisha, then shook his head and sighed, evidently worried about Aisha's future.
"We have to consider moving," Bruce calculated in his heart, and voiced his thoughts. Regardless of whether Aisha understood or not, he said, "Overdue bills won't bankrupt us in the short term, but I can't afford the rent of this neighborhood without any skills certificate."
"We don't necessarily need to live in the city center, we can move a little farther away where the cost of living is lower. I prefer to find a house in a low-inco middle-class neighborhood, closer to supermarket, so we can save so on gas."
When Bruce looked back at Aisha, she seed a bit puzzled. Bruce rested his hand on the steering wheel and sighed, "Your dad never had to worry about bills, right? But actually I've had similar experiences. Wayne Enterprises is rich, but that doesn't an I'm rich... Here we are."
Bruce pulled the car into the parking spot, pushed open the door, then opened the door for Aisha. Aisha got out, Bruce picked her up, and they walked through the revolving doors of McDonald's.
There weren't many people in McDonald's at this ti, as it was the middle of a weekday. Most white-collar workers in the city center were under great pressure and had short lunch breaks. Most of them brought lunch boxes. If they needed to eat out, it was usually for a business lunch at a more upscale restaurant.
Bruce spread a nu in front of Aisha and said, "Go on, you order first, what do you want to eat?"
Aisha looked at the prices in US dollars and pointed to a kids' al. Then she just stared at Bruce without saying anything.
Bruce looked at her and didn't say much more, ordering a burger al for himself.
Their als were prepared quickly, and the two began their silent al. During the al, Bruce kept fidgeting with his phone, seemingly exploring the contents within the magical touch-screen device.
He played with it for a while, then frowned. Aisha asked him, "What's wrong?"
"I don't know, but the screens aren't displaying anymore, hold on..."
Bruce pulled out the bills he'd stuffed in his pocket earlier. After flipping through them for a while, he discovered a phone bill showing he'd been overdue for more than ten days.
Bruce sighed again, put away his phone. At this ti, Aisha was almost finished eating.
A female server ca over to collect Aisha's tray, and at the sa ti, winked at Bruce.
Bruce understood what she was hinting at. He wasn't just popular among the opposite gender because of his status and money, he recognized he was also quite handso.
And now, he wasn't dressed formally, wearing a hoodie, jacket, and jeans, looking like a working-class white male who did physical labor.
Such a profession was actually more popular among so won, because physical labor ant they had a robust physique, certainly more fit than those who sat in offices.
But Bruce wasn't paying any attention to that at the mont. He only wiped the food crumbs from the corner of Aisha's mouth with a napkin.
Fortunately, the server just looked slightly disappointed, but still struck up a conversation with Aisha because she was so cute. Bruce was busy with his phone and finished the remaining food.
After the al, they left through the revolving doors. As they approached their car, they saw a male police officer standing beside it. When he saw Bruce coming, he said, "Hey, buddy, you know this isn't a parking spot, right?"
"I didn't know, I'm from out of town. Go easy on , officer," Bruce said as he stepped forward.
The officer waved his hand, was about to write a ticket, but then saw Aisha erge from behind Bruce. His hand paused and he said, "Consider this your lucky day, no second chances."
After he said that, he walked away. Bruce drove the car to the gas station with Aisha. After the black attendant at the gas station served him the bill, Bruce paid it with a perplexed expression on his face.
"What the hell is this universe?" Bruce looked around, lowering his voice: "I thought I was at Milan Fashion Week. Why is everyone here so attractive?"
Bruce realized that the few people he had just encountered, whether in their looks or figures, were not just passing grade, but excellent.
The blonde waitress was busty and had erald eyes, the officer who was issuing the fine looked like Schwarzenegger with a perfect inverted triangle physique. The black guy working at the gas station had a slim waist and long legs, and his face was perfectly within the beauty standard for African Aricans. Even the old cashier who handled the bills looked like an important Grand Mage in so magic kingdom.
But at the sa ti, Bruce found sothing strange about these people.
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