Chapter 74 Gotham 1987 (Part 2)

In the afternoon, just as the weather forecast in the newspaper said, it was drizzling in Gotham.

Schiller sat in the study of the manor, and the sound of rain outside the window was like the best sleeping pill.

On the messy desk, the pile of books left undulating shadows under the illumination of the wall lamp. The reflection of the ink bottle and Schiller's lens was particularly bright in the dim room. He was holding a fountain pen and writing an invitation letter in complex and gorgeous cursive English.

The customs of the world are almost the same. When you move, you always have to notify relatives and friends to come to visit. Schiller plans to invite his few friends in Gotham to dinner this weekend.

The rain outside the window is getting heavier and heavier. Some moist air enters the room through the gap of the window. In the light of the lamp, you can see tiny water vapor slowly falling on the table. Soon, many tiny water droplets condensed on the part of the desk near the windowsill, reflecting the fire of the fireplace behind, like rubies.

The sky gradually darkened, and the fog, which was colder than during the day, condensed a layer of white frost on the glass. Schiller put down his pen, rubbed his wrist, and looked up.

Looking at the whole Gotham from this angle, there was no difference, except that Gotham in the rain was not only more gloomy, but also more quiet, and even made people feel a rare leisure.

In any case, the city in the 1980s was always much slower than the information society that came later. Schiller wrote letters all afternoon until the manservant came to remind him that it was time for dinner, and then he left the study.

After dinner, Schiller got dressed, took an umbrella, and left home. At this time, the rain that had been falling in Gotham for a whole afternoon had stopped, leaving only the cold and humid air that was inhaled into the lungs, still permeating the city.

The puddles on the ground were like mercury mirrors in the dark, reflecting the lights of the street lamps into golden fragments, like fallen leaves that were not taken away last autumn. After Schiller stepped on them with his heels, this light disappeared in the slight waves and splashing water droplets.

Just like the customs all over the world, when you move, you always have to visit your neighbors.

The security here is pretty good, because anyone who can afford to live in and maintain such a manor is either rich or noble. Although it is not as prosperous as the wealthy areas in the south, the declining old city also has a slow-paced old-fashioned style.

There is an opera house one street away from Schiller's manor, but there are few troupes performing here, so it has become a club for residents in this area.

Schiller walked to the door of the theater. The waiters here were obviously not so professional. They waited until Schiller walked to the steps of the gate before they walked up to open the door. Schiller took off his hat and walked in.

Although it was a cold rainy night outside, it was warm inside the theater. Schiller's glasses were covered with a layer of fog. He took off his glasses, walked to the front desk, and tapped the table gently.

The dozing foreman was in a trance for a moment, raised his eyelids, saw someone, sat up straight, and asked: "Do you have an appointment?"

"I am the new resident who bought the Viscount Manor. All the drinks consumed here today are charged to my account. God bless everyone."

The foreman immediately became enthusiastic and said: "It turned out to be you. I just received news yesterday that the largest Viscount Manor has a new owner. Your vision is really unique. It is such a luxurious manor that deserves a generous gentleman like you."

"Don't worry, when everyone comes out later, they will know that you are a gentleman who is easy to get along with. "

Listening to the compliments coming out of the foreman's mouth, Schiller calmly put a roll of dollars under the bell, and the foreman immediately said: "You don't have to care about the appearance of this building. After all, this is the oldest theater in Gotham. It is normal for it to be a little shabby, but our service must be the best..."

When Schiller walked down the steps of the theater, he looked back at this theater, which may be the oldest in Gotham. It was full of traces of vicissitudes. Many years ago, it had welcomed one well-known theater troupe after another, and countless actors performed here.

But now, it has been completely deserted. The old facade is like a stone tablet recording the history of Gotham, engraved with traces after wind, frost, rain and snow. It may be more exciting than those fictitious dramas, but not many people are willing to watch it again.

After Schiller returned to the manor, it was already very late, but he had something he hadn't finished writing last night.

Thanks to this relatively slow pace of the times, Schiller doesn't have to be wary of any text messages or phone calls. He has plenty of time to read books slowly, find the knowledge he needs from paper materials, and then write them down on paper with a pen.

Suddenly, there was a slight sound behind him. Schiller said without turning his head, "Gordon came to visit, at least he brought a gift, then what about you? The uninvited Bat?"

Batman's shadow was cast by the wall lamp on the wall. He said, "Wait until daytime."

"Gordon is getting married soon. Don't you plan to give him a gift as this freak in tights? After all, he is your partner."

"I don't have any gifts to give." Batman's tone is always low and gentle, making people a little drowsy in this room late at night.

"So what are you here for?"

"To wish you a happy new home."

"I think you have visited all the rooms in this manor before me. If nothing unexpected happens, you should have obtained the architectural design drawings through some means."

Batman did not answer. He seemed to have acquiesced. He never shied away from showing his overly prepared and suspicious character in front of Schiller.

"Have you read today's newspaper? Have you seen the news about the Iron Curtain?"

"That has nothing to do with me."

"This is a big deal for the whole world."

"Gotham will not get better or worse because of this."

Then both of them were silent, leaving only the rustling sound of Schiller's pen on the paper echoing in the quiet room late at night. After a while, Batman said: "The group of people coming from Metropolis should be here to hunt you down."

"Then let them come, or do you think the people in Gotham will be afraid of the people in Metropolis?"

Batman was silent again.

"I guess you had a fight with your butler, right?"

Batman didn't answer, but Schiller said to himself: "There was once a man like this, who stayed up late at night to race because he had a fight with his beloved 'butler'."

"Why did they quarrel?"

"Because that man hadn't decided whether to marry his butler."

Batman was silent again.

"I guess your butler must feel very distressed about your injury, but he doesn't want to stop you from continuing your favorite career, so he can only digest this emotion by himself."

"But you found that he seemed sad, and you didn't want to stop your career, nor did you want to make him sad."

"Your extraordinary wisdom and meticulous logic are useless at this time, so you can only run out to race in the middle of the night."

"Let me guess, your newly built Batmobile should be parked at the door of my house, and until now, the overheated engine should not have cooled down."

"Is there really mind reading in this world?"

"Stop asking such stupid questions."

"If there is, can you tell me what Alfred thinks?"

"You are much more straightforward than that person, but you are right. In addition to family affection, he is also troubled by love."

"Love... the most elusive thing. I offered to tell him the answer, but he refused."

Batman's eyes fell on the ring on Schiller's ring finger. He asked, "Are you married? Didn't your wife come to Gotham with you?"

"It seems that you are not very I want that answer."

Schiller said: "Then go, you might as well ask Gordon to take you in. If you continue to stay with me, you will only get answers you don't want to hear."

Batman said: "This manor is indeed very good, with a total of 36 rooms. You sleep in the master bedroom on the east side upstairs, and there are 35 rooms left."

"I won't give you the key."

"I don't need the key."

Schiller put his finger on his forehead and said: "But if you don't come home at night, what should I do if your butler comes to find me?"

"Why do you seem to be more afraid of him than me?"

"It's hard Explain to you, but I am really worried that your housekeeper will come to the door. "

Seeing that Batman still did not give up, Schiller could only say helplessly: "Okay, if you want to stay here, I need your parents' consent. Call him now. I must hear his approval before I can let you stay here."

Batman: "..."

"The phone is downstairs, either dial it or get out."

Finally, Batman compromised. When facing issues related to his housekeeper, he always behaved like a child, just like Stark faced Pepper.

Schiller didn't mind Batman staying here. He didn't mind Batman checking his new home. Anyway, this day would come sooner or later. If the 18-year-old Batman didn't check, he would check when he was 28 or 38 years old. Nothing in Gotham could escape the eyes of the bat. Schiller was not the Joker. He didn't have time to play hide-and-seek games with Batman every day.

After a while, Schiller finished his paper. It was late at night. It was pitch black outside the window. Only the puddles formed by rainwater reflected the lights in the distance.

Soon, the butler reminded him that the phone was ringing. Schiller picked up the receiver. Batman was standing in the darkest corner of the living room, listening to him talking on the phone.

"Yes, that's right... It's not a problem. Yes, I know. They are always like this. I have seen a lot of them before..."

"Really? That's quite serious... I have a professional first aid kit here... Oh, really? You are such a responsible housekeeper..."

"I don't think it's a big deal..." Schiller looked up at Batman. For some reason, Batman felt his heart suddenly flustered, just like a student who was called to find his parents and was trembling beside him, trying to infer the level of anger of his parents from the teacher's words.

"Okay, please don't worry... No problem, that's it... Tomorrow morning, right?... I think so, okay... Goodbye."

Schiller saw Batman opened his mouth, as if he wanted to ask something, but in the end he didn't ask anything.

Schiller said: "Your butler said you were injured, but he should have treated you."

After that, he glanced at the grandfather clock next to him and said: "It's too late now. Your butler said you should go to bed before nine o'clock. It's more than three hours late. Now take the key and go upstairs quickly."

"I don't need the key."

Leaving the last sentence, Batman disappeared. Schiller shook his head and went upstairs.

Schiller knew Batman's true identity, so Batman didn't do anything to sleep in that bat suit. When Schiller knocked on his door, Bruce was wearing pajamas.

Usually, Batman in a serious state can only see a chin, but now, Bruce's temperament is completely different from his usual. This is a Batman with a full face.

But it was useless. When he heard Schiller admonish him that Alfred hoped he could go back for breakfast tomorrow morning, he still showed a rather tangled and complicated expression.

"I advise you to go back. If he comes to my house, I will never help you. You must know that teachers will always stand on the same front with parents."

Seeing that Bruce seemed unwilling, Schiller had to further threaten him and said, "If I really meet Alfred tomorrow, I will have to talk to him about your academic situation. Although you barely passed the final exam this time, your ranking is in the lower middle. More importantly, you missed 6 assignments in a semester, and more than half of them did not have enough words."

"I will keep all the assignments you submitted. If you don't want your housekeeper to see your nonsense articles and academic garbage that is useless except for polluting other people's brains, you'd better go to bed quickly, and then get up early tomorrow morning and go back to your Wayne Manor."

Then before Bruce could say anything, Schiller slammed the door of his room.

At night, Bruce lay in bed, thinking about what happened recently.

Thanks to Schiller's creative industrial chain, there have been many gang fights recently, and Batman's work has become difficult.

During the day, he was busy conducting various investigations in the hospital to crack the complicated relationship between the gangs. At night, he had to keep an eye on the scenes of various fights to prevent them from getting too excited and causing too much damage.

The police have become much stronger after they have heavy weapons, but this does not mean that the gangs have no means of counterattack. The police use heavy firepower to suppress, and the gangs will naturally think of using more fierce firepower to resist. As a result, the scale of the war is constantly escalating, which also caused Batman to be involved in some more fierce firepower conflicts before he had time to upgrade his various equipment.

This also led to the fact that the bat armor, which was originally prepared for some pistol bullets and cold weapons, could not defend against the damage caused by machine gun grenades in the fight.

A few nights ago, Batman was hit by a machine gun bullet. This kind of damage is not comparable to a pistol bullet. Each machine gun bullet is as long as a palm. Fortunately, Batman was only hit on the shoulder. If this bullet really hit him, I am afraid that half of his lungs would be completely scrapped.

But this also caused him very serious damage. It can be said that it was the most serious injury he suffered during his career as Batman.

When he rushed back to Wayne Manor, he was already unconscious. He was able to return to Wayne Manor consciously, and it was his extraordinary willpower that saved his life.

Bruce had long known that he was not sensitive to some analgesics and anesthetics, and often woke up during anesthesia. This time was the same. In the middle of the operation, he saw Alfred sitting alone on the edge of the operating table in a half-awake state.

It was difficult for him to describe the expression of Alfred at that time. It made his heart, which had hardly beaten violently for many years, feel a sharp tug.

He suddenly found that Alfred had become different from what he remembered. He was much older and seemed to be much more depressed than when his parents were still alive.

He realized a problem. In fact, the death of the Wayne couple did not hurt only him.

And perhaps, when Alfred found that he was almost going to suffer the same injury again, he became much older again.

Bruce lay in bed, tossing and turning, and his mind was filled with the image of Alfred that he saw in the haze.

What made him even more sad was that when he woke up from the operation, Alfred said nothing. He did not stop Bruce from doing anything. He just prepared breakfast as usual, just like countless mornings when Bruce woke up from nightmares.

When sitting at the dining table, Bruce could hardly eat. He was Batman, but he was still a person. Few people could keep a calm mind to eat when facing such intense emotional shock.

So he just ate two bites hastily and left Wayne Manor as if he was running away.

In fact, the first place he went to was Gordon's, but he just happened to catch Gordon driving to Schiller's house.

He followed Gordon all the way, and even Batman saw the whole process of their conversation in the restaurant from the window.

He also saw Schiller sitting alone in a chair and smoking a whole cigar.

Such a professor made him feel strange. He had never seen Schiller like this before. He looked relaxed, but very indifferent and sharp. Although Schiller often acted very serious in school, it was completely different.

It was like another person, a stranger.

He thought, maybe the professor he knew before was just a disguise, just like him.

Two lunatics played their respective roles in this crazy city, appearing on the stage with a very ordinary social identity, playing the role of teachers and students who were troubled by trivial daily life.

This may not be a "Pride and Prejudice", but a "Self-cultivation of Actors".

In this dilapidated and decayed theater in Gotham, which has been corroded by time, on the stage of Gotham University, the first act of this absurd drama looks weird and funny.

The first teacher Batman met on his first day of school, a teacher who looked strict and old-fashioned and didn't want to cause trouble for himself, gave him the answer he wanted most in an unmotivated psychological consultation.

After the curtain fell on one drama after another, the two actors finally met under the stage.

Putting aside their social identities, the composition of these absurd dramas is not a coincidence. Madmen always attract madmen, and weirdos often meet weirdos. This is just another way of presenting that birds of a feather flock together.

Bruce lay in bed, and a drowsy sleep came over him. In his half-awake state, he heard the dull sound of the pendulum downstairs in the manor, which penetrated his dreams.

In addition, on this cold night in Gotham in 1987, all that could be heard was the almost inaudible sound of the wind and the sound of the fireplace burning all night long.