82. Gotham: Arkham

90.

Aria is the least afraid of explosions.

When she was a novice, she often died in the mines, either because she was killed by monsters, or because she wanted to eat vegetables but clicked on a bomb and killed herself. It was more painful at the beginning when she was inexperienced, but it got much better after adjusting the data a few times.

Ignoring her arm covered in ash, Aria rushed into an ongoing explosion. If it weren't for the bomb, she probably wouldn't have discovered that there was a collapsed underground cave beneath the shallow fill foundation. It was very similar to the caves in the desert mines.

She couldn't find the night owl on the ground, and guessed that this guy might have escaped through this hole, so she jumped down.

The wind whistled in her ears for a few seconds before the farmer felt herself land on a platform. She was surrounded by construction debris falling from above. As she stood up, the Ring of Light illuminated the surrounding area.

Under one of the ruins, there were patches of metal reflections. She dug through the charred wooden building materials and metal garbage and found the madman curled up at the bottom. His blood soaked the ground where he lay. If it weren't for his broken breathing and slow rise and fall of his chest, she would have thought he was dead again.

The language course wasn't enough, the farmer thought expressionlessly. Once things became ridiculous, she found it difficult to find the right words in her language system to describe her current mood.

She still pulled the man out of the pile of garbage, and his consciousness was surprisingly still clear.

"...You're here." His expression couldn't be seen through the mask, and Night Owl even smiled with great force: "I... won."

The farmer, his glowing body, rolled his eyes in a divine manner. "Yes, yes, you won because you escaped successfully, and you won because I found you. You won twice, right? We're all going to Arkham anyway, so you can say whatever you want."

"If only Grandpa had such a triumphant spirit like you when he was grading," Aria leaned in to examine Night Owl's wound—which should be slowly healing. Intent on intimidating him, the farmer said, "How about I send you down now, and you talk to my Grandpa?"

"Or do you want to compete with my grandfather for the position during the three-year evaluation?"

Night Owl stopped laughing.

Aria put the person on her shoulders and looked up. The cave was almost vertical at 90 degrees.

"Now you're going to win for the third time - I used to have this really annoying game where a guy sits in a vat and has to use a pickaxe to help him climb out - he falls down countless times and is taunted by a nasty voiceover..."

Aria took out her pickaxe and nailed it to the wall, gritting her teeth. "I didn't expect to have to do it again in another game." Luckily, she had amazing arm strength.

…

David is an unremarkable guard at Arkham Asylum.

People say being a prison guard is a boring and low-paid job, but that's in other cities. Arkham Asylum is known for its constant flow of criminals and guards, with casualty rates fluctuating like crazy—it all depends on whether the inmates come up with a clever escape plan this month and whether they include the guards in their plans.

David knew from the start that this job was incredibly stressful. Guarding Arkham Asylum was like standing on a dam that could burst at any moment. A single mistake could cost him his life, and the lunatics could also storm the city, turning Gotham upside down. But he kept doing it, for a simple reason—the pay was better here.

Daily pay, comprehensive insurance, and even if someone dies, it's considered a work-related injury, with full pension and compensation. For a father like David, who doesn't have much money, this is a rare and good job. His daughter, a brilliant student, just received a full scholarship to Gotham University this year. Although he would prefer she leave Gotham City right from the start, ideally settling elsewhere after graduation, children always have their own ideas...

"David!" The captain's voice came over the intercom, his tone as energetic as ever. God knows why the captain seemed so energetic every day even though it was the same job. "Today you'll patrol Route 1."

David sighed, picked up the intercom and answered, shaking off the trivial thoughts in his mind - the fate of the workers. But just as he took out the weapon from the safe, the captain spoke again.

"Don't patrol for now." Unlike his previous shout, this time the man's tone was filled with caution, as if something big was about to happen. "Batman is bringing the prisoner here."

…

Gotham's criminals can generally be divided into two categories: the mentally ill and the non-mentally ill. The mentally ill go to Arkham, while the non-mentally ill go to Blackgate Penitentiary. While these old friends are still being held in prison, the new inmates are likely Gotham's newest psychopaths.

David cursed inwardly, wondering if this city was truly cursed. Good people couldn't survive here, and the mentally ill were thriving. He followed his captain's instructions, changed into his prisoner weapon, and reunited with his colleagues at Point A, awaiting the arrival of Batman and his Batmobile.

It was a rare night without rain, and the pale moonlight couldn't compare to the patrol lights that illuminated the sky. When the Batmobile, emitting a whiff of gunpowder, rolled into Arkham Asylum and opened its trunk, almost everyone held their breath.

He was a criminal wearing an owl mask, looking even taller than Batman, and looking like he would explode and hurt someone at any moment - but he was surprisingly quiet.

"This guy is unusually quiet. Could he be scared silly?" his new colleague asked in a low voice.

David couldn't stand this guy's stupidity, so he elbowed him and whispered, "Don't ask."

"Anyone who is brought to Arkham by Batman is more terrifying the quieter they are - except for the Joker." He is noisy, but he is scarier.

Somewhat unexpectedly, the person who got out of the car this time was not Robin, but a black-haired woman wearing a mask. She also looked very strong and powerful - especially when she lifted the prisoner out of the car with one hand, David heard his colleague gasp.

"Hello, Mr. Guard, thank you for your hard work." The woman clearly didn't feel the need for any formal introductions. Her tone was like a courier urging someone to sign for the package. "This is Night Owl, the new lunatic from Zuzu City."

"Night Owl, come and meet your new landlord. You will live here from now on."

The new madman finally said his first words since coming to Arkham: "So will you come visit me later?"

Alas.

David tried to appear anything but serious, but Batman stood silently behind them, his cold, hard statue casting a cold shadow over everyone. David could only put aside all his questions and, along with his colleagues, carefully led the prisoner into the security room. Night Owl offered no resistance, not even a word as the restraints were being applied. Only when the mask was removed did the girl glance at Batman.

The criminals behaved quite quietly along the way, but when they were about to take off his scary mask, the girl glanced at Batman next to her.

"Can we not take it?" The farmer was a little worried. After all, there were so many people here. If the news that Lincoln March was Night Owl got out, Gotham's city construction plan would also be affected.

...And Bruce Wayne would be sad if he knew it, because Lincoln March is his friend after all.

"He can't wear a mask forever," Batman said, but he still turned his head away coldly: "... He won't need to wear it after he passes security."

The farmer was very happy to get this answer, and his tone instantly became cheerful. The cold and aloof image he had just managed to create was instantly shattered: "Okay!"

Her appearance made the originally lifeless escort team of migrant workers feel a lot more relaxed. Maybe this is what people call affinity. David thought without thinking that this girl was much more interesting than Batman.

The footsteps of the group echoed in the empty corridor. Before entering the confinement room, they had to pass through the scanning area. Batman walked in front. The mechanical female voice listed a lot of contraband without hesitation: "Sharp metal weapons, controlled knives, explosives..." But as always, no one dared to let him unload these things.

David was already used to Batman's equipment and was not surprised by it. However, the instrument did not issue any prompt when the black-haired woman passed by: in Arkham, being too ordinary is sometimes abnormal, which made the newbie next to David look at her a little more.

But in the next second, Batman slowed down and walked side by side with her, and all sights were forcibly diverted in an instant.

…

But the security check did remind her. In the detention room, the guard was putting a straitjacket on Night Owl. The farmer looked at him and suddenly asked, "Do you want me to return your brooch?"

"You asked me to give it to you..." Having successfully sent the man to Arkham, Aria was now able to speak to Night Owl in a relatively calm manner. She lowered her eyes, the brooch in her palm. "But you're alive now. Do you need me to return it to you?"

David had no idea what they were up to, but out of respect for Arkham Asylum's rules, he reminded them, "Miss, our prisoners are not allowed to possess metal objects. However, if they behave well and serve their sentences for a certain period of time, they can apply for visitation."

Even so, David still felt it was odd. Arkham Asylum held mostly inmates without parents, partners, or children. He could count on one hand the number of people who had been allowed visitors in the past year—of course, David stole a glance at Batman, who gave off an overwhelming sense of oppression just by standing nearby—Batman enjoyed unlimited visitation rights because the people he visited were always related to the case, and he often beat them up.

The lunatics who have been beaten will usually be quiet for a while. To be honest, David really hopes that Batman can come to Arkham more often to beat people up. It will save them a lot of trouble.

"Okay, thank you." The black-haired vigilante thanked him politely, but was rather cold towards Night Owl: "If you don't need it, you can come to me for it after you get out of prison."

Night Owl chuckled, his eyes piercing through the mask and staring straight at him. For some reason, he sounded a little disappointed: "Is that all you want to ask?"

Wait, is there gossip? David wanted to prick up his ears to listen, but Batman made a move at this moment.

He turned on tiptoe and faced outwards, and the rest of the guards followed him out with their heads down. Even if David wanted to hear some gossip, he had to abide by the rules of Arkham Asylum - to provide all necessary help when Batman needed it and it was conducive to the detention of prisoners.

No wonder everyone says Batman is a monster in tights fighting crime, David thought regretfully, how could humans not be interested in gossip.

However, when everyone evacuated the room and only the black-haired woman and Night Owl were left inside, Batman stepped back into the closed cell. In front of David and the others, the cell door flashed a green light and slowly closed.

No, buddy! I thought you didn't want to hear gossip, but it turns out you just don't want us to hear it!

The restraints made it difficult for Night Owl to turn his head, but even so, he managed to turn around and look at the farmer with his head tilted: "I thought..."

His voice was quite subtle: "You'll wonder what that kiss was all about."

"You know what?" With that in mind, Aria decided to keep her hand at a constant, friendly, safe distance from Night Owl. "In our town, if your favorability isn't high enough, even if there's an option like 'Can I kiss you?', choosing it will still cause your favorability to drop."

"Really..." Night Owl's gaze was like dried, sticky blood, lingering for a long time on the place he had kissed. "I'm becoming more and more curious about you and the place where you live..."

Aria didn't notice Batman's movements, but Night Owl was clearly better at observing Batman than she was. Even though he had become a prisoner, he still spoke to Batman with a fearless, reckless attitude, "Brother, why are you so nervous..."

He gestured with his eyes at the layers of restraints on his body, revealing a hint of a smile: "I lost. Winners are kings and losers are bandits. There's nothing to argue about."

"Arkham will strengthen their supervision of him." Batman stood beside the farmer, his words more like a promise than a comfort: "It won't be that easy for him to escape."

"And the Court of Owls delayed me for a whole day! Do you know how much work I can get done in a day?" Aria angrily counted on her fingers and settled accounts with the Night Owls. "I can reclaim another piece of land to plant vegetables today. If I go mining, I can go down dozens of levels in the next day. Maybe I can even clear the mine!"

Time is life, and wasting a farmer's time is murder.

"If it weren't for the laws of Zuzu City, I'd capture all of you and make you pick hops for me!" Aria said angrily, then suddenly had an idea and turned to Batman: "Wait... there doesn't seem to be any rules against it, right?"

Batman had a bad feeling and he stopped the situation before it could get any further: "...No."

"It's also labor camp in Arkham, and it's also labor camp in my place, so it should be about the same, right?"

"no."

"Alright." The farmer had a disappointed look on his face, as if to say "as expected." He crossed his arms like Batman and said his final goodbye to Night Owl: "Then I have nothing more to say to you. In that case, you will just do your hard labor here."

"Wait," Night Owl suddenly raised his head and gave Batman a malicious look, passing over Aria. "Ms. Aria," he said, giving the farmer a strange feeling that he was still Lincoln March. "Please give the brooch to Bruce Wayne for me."

He couldn't help but smile as he pronounced the other person's name, as if he had just played a harmless prank: "After all, Lincoln March owed him this."

Batman: "..."

…

"Miss Aria has arrived at the gate of the manor, sir." Alfred checked the closed-circuit surveillance and reported softly: Five minutes ago, the farmer stood at the gate of Wayne Manor.

Even with the rumors circulating about Bruce Wayne's support for Batman, there was no way Batman would drive the farmer straight to Wayne Manor. And it was too dangerous for her to walk alone through Burnley and Crime Alley at night—perhaps even more dangerous for anyone else—and even though the farmer had given up on using criminals as labor, he still erred on the side of caution.

After comprehensive consideration and careful weighing, Bruce Wayne pretended that he had other tasks and dropped Aria off outside the Wayne Manor territory. He spent a minute driving the car into the Batcave, and three minutes sincerely suggesting that Damian, who was extremely excited after the battle with the Claw in the Batcave, should go to bed. He then used the last minute to simply treat his wounds despite Alfred's disapproving gaze, put on his pajamas, and transformed himself into Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne even prepared an explanation for the obvious wounds on his body, but just as he was about to lie down on the bed and get into the "waking up late at night" posture, Alfred said meaningfully: "Master, maybe you can really go to sleep tonight."

Bruce frowned, his face, pale from blood loss, looking a bit more fragile against his blue eyes. "She didn't ring the doorbell?"

"Not at the moment." Alfred pointed at the screen and seemed to be smiling. "Miss Aria has the routine and sense of time that a healthy person should have."

It was one o'clock, and even though Bruce Wayne didn't usually go to bed at this time, it was time for everyone else to go to bed.

The surveillance footage showed Aria not approaching the gate to ring the bell, but rather lingering for a moment. A moment later, she seemed to spot the manor's mailbox, pull something out, and slip it in. Alfred switched cameras, zooming back to the mailbox. Bruce wasn't surprised—it was Lincoln March's brooch.

After finishing the messenger's work, the farmer seemed to think that this was not obvious enough, so he ran to the side and chopped down a few trees, and directly made a simple and crude wooden sign and inserted it next to the mailbox.

It was clearly written on it: "This is Lincoln March's relic. Please keep it. It belongs to Aria."

"Alfred..." Bruce sighed and covered his eyes with his hands.

"Master," Alfred said with a hint of teasing in his tone, "I don't think you need to be so anxious to be Bruce Wayne tonight. Miss Aria is only here to fulfill her duties as a 'delivery girl'."

Bruce raised his head and glanced at the figure on the screen with his back to the door, and finally said resignedly: "Alfred..."

"Let her in."

————————

Small Theater:

Batman: Get In

Farmer (eyes shining): Is your hand injured? I've done it in the game! It's no problem to leave it to me.

Batman: (Autopilot on)

Farmer: Oh