Chapter 15: Superb American Green Tea Ceremony
The surgery was very successful.
Night Owl's plan went smoothly.
Instead of returning to Wayne Manor, he parked his fighter jet atop Wayne Tower and changed out of his armor in his office.
We still need to have our own base.
Otherwise it would be too troublesome.
Instead of finding a place to sleep, Thomas grabbed some food and started falsifying surveillance footage while eating.
He must be more cautious and meticulous in concealing his whereabouts.
Before going to apologize to the Romans, he specifically told Alfred that he would not be going home that night, citing concerns that the Romans' men might invade Wayne Manor.
Although Thomas believed the Romans wouldn't send their men to Wayne Manor to cause trouble for Alfred, he still recommended that Alfred stay at a hotel for the night.
As expected, Alfred refused.
“I must protect Wayne Manor, young Thomas,” Alfred refused him outright. “Unless there is something more important for me to do, I will not leave here—at least not something like ‘protecting Thomas Wayne’s personal safety.’”
“No need, Alfred. It’s fine if we’re separated, but if we appear together, it’ll be too conspicuous.” Thomas said as he changed into an ill-fitting, cheap American-style suit, looking like a poor college graduate.
Fortunately, Thomas's body proportions and face saved the day, so from a distance it didn't look particularly disastrous.
Thomas was somewhat out of his mind at the time, and now, thinking back, the excuse was utterly lame. Putting aside everything else, Alfred himself was a professional agent; concealing his identity and whereabouts was a piece of cake for him.
But clearly, before Alfred could question Thomas's excuse, something more attention-grabbing appeared at Wayne Manor.
"Young Master Thomas, is Wayne Corporation facing some kind of financial crisis and about to go bankrupt?" Alfred was almost suffocated when he saw Thomas's attire. He never imagined that such inappropriate clothes would appear in Wayne Manor.
"Cheap polyester fibers, ill-fitting sizes, wrong designs... how can polyester clothing be so wrinkled?"
This suit is simply the worst brand-new suit a Gotham resident could ever see.
The fact that Thomas wore this outfit is rather intriguing.
Alfred's eyes scanned Thomas from head to toe like an X-ray, finally settling on his sleeve, and he raised an eyebrow slightly: "Weapons?"
“...Yes, I can’t go to see Falcone unprepared.”
In fact, to avoid the possibility that Falcone was an intellectually disabled person who couldn't understand human speech, Thomas had stuffed quite a few rather advanced small weapons into his clothes.
Wearing such terrible clothes is all for the sake of this awful design, which perfectly conceals most of the flaws.
“I knew you were always cautious,” Alfred said, looking at him meaningfully. “Could you tell me what kind of weapon it is? How could a teenager who hasn’t had any formal military training be so confident as to face a bunch of armed thugs?”
...Thanks for reminding me, Alfred. I was almost forgetting that I'm not a middle-aged man anymore, but a teenager.
Of course, an explanation is still necessary.
Thomas couldn't reveal all his cards to Alfred, so he simply said that he was wearing a bulletproof vest under his clothes and had a stun gun in his sleeve, and that carrying too many lethal weapons would make him easy to spot, thus angering Falcone...
Just kidding. Actually, the plane is floating on the roof of Falcone's house in stealth mode, with the controller in its sleeve. It could blow him up at any time.
Alfred neither said he believed nor he didn't; he calmly skipped over the topic.
But Thomas knew very well that this reason might fool the Ultimate One, but it wouldn't even fool a young Bruce. Alfred was even less likely to believe it; he could see that Thomas had the confidence to go against Falcone and was absolutely certain he could escape.
Alfred will likely tell Bruce what he has observed, so that he doesn't worry.
Bruce... Bruce isn't stupid. If he knew that Thomas had just escaped unscathed from Falcone, and then Gotham's underworld was already fighting amongst themselves, what would he think?
He might have a soft spot for poor little Tommy, deliberately ignoring some of his strange childhood antics. But Bruce was, after all, a young detective who almost infiltrated the Court of Owls before he was even ten. Thomas suspected that if he revealed even the slightest flaw, Bruce would discover it.
Thomas took a deep breath.
Should I bring in two subordinates, or... partners, first?
-
Alfred didn't see Thomas again until the evening of the following day.
Thomas changed back into a bespoke suit, his hair meticulously styled, and he returned to his usual self, as if the Falcone incident had never happened.
But Alfred felt something was off, so he tentatively said, "Young Master Thomas, Young Master Bruce is very worried about you."
“I’ll call him back, Alfred.” Thomas took off his coat and walked towards the restaurant. “Is there anything else you’d like to say?”
Will Falcone cause you any more trouble?
“Probably not.” Thomas’s voice was a little hoarse. “He seemed to have run into some big trouble and didn’t even have the energy to deal with me. He just let me go.”
"Really?" Alfred looked at his face, which was covered in concealer. "They just let you go like that?"
“Of course,” Thomas answered without hesitation, “his subordinates say he seems to have offended the Court of Owls, perhaps we should tell Bruce…”
“Young Master Thomas, do you know,” Alfred interrupted Thomas, “that you only offer explanations when you’re feeling guilty?”
Of course I know, I was just pretending.
People have the strongest belief in what they discover themselves, and this trait is incredibly useful.
“Of course, it’s impossible to have no conflict at all.” Thomas sat at the dining table. “And I don’t want to expose my conflict with the Romans in front of the public. As chairman, I have to be responsible for Wayne Group, so I found a trustworthy makeup artist.”
"So you're covered in face paint and concealer?" Alfred stood behind him. "Please don't follow your brother's example in this regard, young Thomas. I thought there was only one kid in the house who would sneak a snack, fall and bruise his leg, and then pretend to be calm."
"Bruce will be so happy to hear you call him a little kid, Alfred. Are you going to get him a Christmas present this year too?"
"Please don't change the subject, or you won't get your Christmas presents or dessert, young master Thomas."
“I knew I couldn’t hide it from you, Alfred.” Thomas seemed to have given up struggling. “Can we not tell Bruce?”
Alfred looked at him disapprovingly.
"...Okay, I knew you would tell him."
Thomas wanted to go back to his bedroom to take a shower, while Alfred brought out the alcohol, tweezers, medical cotton balls, and white towels that he had prepared beforehand.
“Don’t look at me like that. To be honest, I thought you would be more honest.” Alfred handed him all the things. “But it’s obviously helpful to do some preparation beforehand.”
"Thank you, Alfred."
Thomas rolled up his sleeves and wiped his wrists with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol.
The bluish-purple marks were visible, making it look like the person had been tied up with rope.
Thomas had sculpted it himself during the little time he had before going to work.
Thomas then put down the tweezers: "Can we eat now, Alfred?"
“I think you’ve forgotten about your neck.” Alfred remained unmoved. “Do you need my help?”
"No need, thank you, Alfred." Thomas casually poured alcohol onto a towel, wiped the paint off his neck, revealing a handprint.
Thomas himself pinched himself; after all, no one can strangle themselves.
He deliberately used only one hand; if he had used both hands, the thumbprint on the side of his neck would have given him away.
"What's on your body?"
Alfred was clearly very angry.
"I don't have any on me."
"No paint or no injury?"
"...no oil paint."
Thomas maintained just the right amount of calm and apprehension.
"Do you need me to help you change the dressing?"
"Thank you, but it's not necessary, Alfred. I've already had the doctor take care of it."
Although Alfred remained expressionless, Thomas could tell he was furious.
Most of the anger was directed at Falcone, but some of it was directed at Thomas.
But Alfred calmly served caramel pineapple bread pudding to poor, strong little Tommy who only shared good news.
The taste is quite good.
-
The next morning, just as Thomas expected, Bruce called during his work hours.
"Thomas, what about Falcone...?"
"He seems to have offended someone and can't take care of us right now."
“I know you have your own ideas, Thomas,” Bruce said, “but before you do anything particularly dangerous, can you at least tell us first?”
“Honestly, I thought keeping secrets from each other was a fine family tradition?” Thomas didn’t back down at all, quickly and accurately bringing up old grievances. “You and Alfred didn’t inform me when you were investigating the Court of Owls, especially you. You were locked up on your own, and Alfred and I looked for you for a long time.”
"I was still in elementary school back then."
“And I’m going through puberty right now, Bruce.”
“You weren’t in elementary school yet back then, and I was worried something might happen to you.”
“Alfred clearly attended primary school back then, while you’re still out of town and can’t get back in one night,” Thomas argued. The argument worked; Bruce completely disregarded the suspicious circumstances surrounding Thomas’s escape from Falcone.
"If you need, I can go back now."
"Please don't," Thomas's voice turned somber. "Please don't."
Thomas was actually very curious about who actually liked to stay in this godforsaken place, Gotham.
The first guy to settle in Gotham was an absolute genius; how did he even find such a terrible place?
Anyone who wants to save Gotham is a lunatic. This cursed place has been cursed more than the Ultimate Man has ever thought of. Why not just blow up old Gotham, build a new Gotham, and everyone move away together?
“You know, Tommy, I can’t leave Gotham forever. She’ll always be calling me.”
“Yes, I know,” Thomas replied expressionlessly. “You love Gotham.”
He hung up the phone after saying that.
Thomas is really missing Claws now.
A note from the author:
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If you can't play Arkham Knight because of a hand injury, you might as well play the Batman story version instead. Not recommended...
The Simplified Chinese localization is even worse than AI translation. I couldn't help but laugh when I saw Alfred call Bruce "Master." It would have been better if there hadn't been a localization at all and I had installed a patch from a fan-made localization group myself.
I plan to try Traditional Chinese tomorrow; I've heard that Traditional Chinese localization is quite good.
I'm speechless. The Arkham trilogy isn't translated into Chinese, and the Batman story version is worse than a machine translation. Are we, the victims of the official version, some kind of despicable people?
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