Chapter 3 thanks the owls "they" for enriching Gotham's barren entertainment...
Bruce couldn't remember what he was doing before the shooting.
It seems like just a second ago he was walking down the street with his family, excitedly playing with little Thomas, and the next second the whole world exploded in front of him, covered in blood.
His parents lay on the ground, blood gushing out and mingling with the scattered pearls from Martha's necklace.
Bruce frantically tried to cover the horrific wounds, but to no avail.
Blood clung to his hands, dripping from his fingertips.
Life and soul are lost with the blood.
Thomas was squatting next to Bruce, his face splattered with blood.
He seemed oblivious, simply watching his dead parents.
Then, out of nowhere, he pulled out a dart and, taking advantage of the thug's distraction, knocked the gun away.
The assailant was startled and turned to run away.
Thomas Jr. scrambled over, picked up the gun, and struck a pose.
"Bang!"
Another gunshot rang out.
Thomas Jr. knelt on the ground in an odd posture and shot the guy dead without hesitation.
Then he walked to the alley entrance, gripping the gun tightly in a twisted position with his right hand, staring blankly at the sky.
His pants were torn by the ground, and the skin on his knees was rubbed off, so he sat cross-legged in the pool of blood.
The child's blood, the parents' blood, and the murderer's blood were mixed together, making him look like a human figure splattered with blood.
Bruce felt that Thomas Jr. at this moment was like a ghost from a storybook.
Empty, lonely, incomprehensible, unpredictable.
Bruce didn't know what he was going to do, but he had a bad feeling about it.
This premonition is probably like a baseless prediction—a prediction that everything will fall to the worst possible outcome, like knowing you'll be caught before you do something bad, or knowing the buttered side of a loaf of bread will kiss the ground before it falls...
So Bruce followed behind Thomas.
Thomas Jr.'s right hand was no longer strong enough; the dart-throwing and the recoil from the gun had injured him, and he had tried to raise his right hand several times without success.
So he picked up the gun with his left hand, slightly opened his mouth, and tried to put the muzzle inside. But it didn't work; a four-year-old's mouth could only barely fit the muzzle, making it impossible to guarantee accuracy and stability.
Thomas Jr. then opted for the most common method.
He changed his grip on the gun, pressing the trigger with his thumb and holding the gun diagonally against his chin.
The friction between the muzzle and the skin ensures the stability of the gun.
In an instant, Bruce understood what he was about to do.
Even the most well-behaved American children can see some images of guns and death on television.
So he lunged forward and hugged Thomas from behind.
Thomas Jr. was startled and quickly pointed his gun into the sky.
The gun went off accidentally, and the bullet hit the wall.
Thomas Jr. lowered his gun-wielding hand, trying to break free from Bruce's grasp, but he failed.
“That was too dangerous, Bruce,” Thomas said calmly. “You shouldn’t have lunged at me when someone was shooting. If I hadn’t controlled the gun properly, you would have died.”
He was too calm, just like when he usually reminded Bruce, "Don't eat too much ice cream, or you'll get a stomachache."
In Bruce's memory, Thomas Jr. was always calm.
No matter how Thomas and Martha teased him, or how Alfred increased or decreased his snacks… he remained calm. He never caused trouble for his family and would even cover for Bruce when he secretly did “bad things.”
Bruce used to cherish this calmness, considering it a virtue of his younger brother, and always boasted about it in front of his peers who complained about their younger siblings' unpredictable and annoying behavior.
Now he hates this calmness.
"What are you going to do, Tommy?"
Bruce grabbed Thomas's hand with one hand and snatched the gun away with the other, throwing it to the ground.
“You don’t need to worry so much, Bruce, that gun is out of bullets.”
Bruce didn't say anything, he just held him in his arms.
Thomas Jr. continued, "Murder is a sin, and I will kill more people sooner or later."
“I don’t care,” Bruce said. “That guy deserved to die; he killed the first one.”
“Don’t make excuses for me, Bruce.” Thomas used his foot to retrieve the dart that had fallen to the side, then picked it up and tucked it into his waistband, making it look like an ornament.
"I know what I did was wrong. It's illegal to fire a follow-up shot after the other person ran away. Don't follow my example."
Bruce pretended not to hear and hugged Thomas tightly.
The two remained silent for a long while.
"Tommy, I'm so scared, please don't go."
"...I can't do it. Even if I don't actively seek death, something unexpected will definitely happen. I just don't know which version of me will die. And the version of me in front of you will probably only live to be in my thirties."
Bruce didn't understand, he only knew that Thomas hadn't agreed to his request.
So he hugged her tighter and said in a trembling voice, "Are you leaving too? Take me with you, let's go find Martha and Thomas together... the four of us will still be together."
"Okay, I promise you, Bruce. As long as you need me, I won't leave on my own."
Can I trust you?
“Of course I can, I’ve never lied to you, Bruce,” Thomas said, “until the day you don’t need me anymore.”
The two of them remained pressed tightly together.
It wasn't until the police arrived late that they were taken to the police station.
-
“I take back your assessment that you are not good at lying, Master Bruce.” Alfred pondered. “You are very clever at covering up the real secret with an obvious lie.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Alfred.” Bruce took a sip of tea. “How are you? How has he been these past two years? How is Gotham?”
Bruce wanted to steer clear of the topic. The suspicious circumstances surrounding his brother were like the elephant in the house (well, actually, given the size of Wayne Manor, even if there really was an elephant, it wouldn't be very noticeable), and Bruce was determined to ignore it.
Turning a blind eye to a secret is difficult for a detective, but easy for an older brother who values his younger brother.
Alfred, not intending to pry, simply went along with Bruce's words.
“Oh, of course I’m fine, Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “It’s quite a challenge to ‘enjoy’ the entire Wayne Manor all by myself, and to work with poor Lucius to extract money and equipment for you right under Master Thomas’s nose. Lucius almost got jailed by Master Thomas for falsifying accounts, so we had to carefully reveal your request to him—don’t look at me like that, we just told him it was your request. But I suggest you be careful, Master Bruce. I suspect that Master Thomas will be bringing you the ledgers these next few days to check whether Mr. Fox has embezzled any money from the Wayne Corporation.”
It's exhausting just listening to it.
But clearly, Thomas is capable of doing something like that.
“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble, Alfred.” Bruce took a sip of tea, pretending to be busy. “Tommy is always very thoughtful.”
“Oh, and by the way, I have some good news for you,” Alfred said. “Young Master Thomas can now communicate normally with people. Although I don’t seem to have really gotten to know him, I’m glad he’s taken this step.”
“That’s great, Alfred,” Bruce said. “It seems he really remembered his promise.”
“As for Gotham…” Alfred seemed unsure how to proceed. “Gotham’s power structure has undergone a major reshuffle in recent years. Many old-school families have declined. Young Master Thomas successfully seized this opportunity to expand Wayne’s wealth, and he hasn’t forgotten the charitable work left by Master Thomas—he’s a kind-hearted boy.”
The more people lack something, the more they emphasize it; Alfred's words seemed somewhat like an attempt to cover up his true intentions.
Bruce pondered that Thomas's methods for expanding his wealth were clearly somewhat radical.
Lucius really suffered.
“However, there is one thing to note, Mr. Bruce,” Alfred said seriously. “A few years ago, a dangerous figure appeared in Gotham’s nights, who called himself Night Owl.”
"His identity and age are unknown. Several years ago, he carried high-tech equipment and eliminated a large number of underworld forces, demanding a curfew throughout Gotham. If there are gang fights or heavy weapons transactions, he will come to deal with them."
“Alone?” Bruce frowned. “Gotham’s gangsters are tougher than cockroaches, how did he do that?”
"He blew up the armories of several major gangs, incapacitated several bosses, instigated infighting and power struggles between gangs, announced his curfew order to the victors, and finally dealt with several typical curfew violators."
"...He's a madman."
Even if Alfred tries to present the story in a straightforward manner, Bruce can easily smell the gunpowder and bloodshed in it.
This will inevitably lead to large-scale chaos and bloodshed. If even the slightest mishap causes the situation to escalate, it will become a mad catastrophe that no single force can easily handle.
"He must have some powerful backing."
Alfred's men paused.
“That’s the problem, Mr. Bruce,” Alfred said. “There are rumors that Night Owl is sponsored by Wayne Enterprises; others claim that Night Owl is backed by the Court of Owls. Supporters of both sides have their own evidence and loopholes, and neither side has been able to figure out Night Owl’s true nature.”
These words contained a great deal of information. After thinking for a while, Bruce finally decided to ask about the most dangerous and important thing that sounded most dangerous.
"So the Court of Owls really does exist?"
"No, no one can say for sure whether it exists or not. The so-called evidence is more like speculation. The supporters of this group are mainly conspiracy theorists and horror story collectors. Their main argument is that the night owl is wearing an owl-themed suit of armor."
“But there’s good news too. There are rumors about young Thomas sponsoring Night Owls,” Alfred said as casually as he could, but he seemed to choke on his words. “The supporters of this faction are mainly third-rate tabloids and Wayne Group’s rivals, and they’re mainly spreading rumors about your brother and Night Owls’s sex scandal.”
Bruce's expression resembled that of a cat trying to catch a laser beam but getting caught by a flashlight beam instead.
Where's the good news? Where do we even begin to count the good news?
“好消息是这两个流派半斤八两，主要是失败者造谣和小报博眼球。”阿尔弗雷德一眼就能看出来布鲁斯在想什么，“您应该不用考虑晚上揍的超反会不会是您弟弟的爱人。”
-
The people of Gotham have always had a beast-like intuition; they always manage to hit the truth accurately without even realizing it. This power can be used for survival, and it can also be used for gossip.
The "Cat Law Employee Theory" originated from the work of a third-rate author (a low-level writer) at a third-rate magazine. He got drunk and accidentally sent two urban legend manuscripts together to the editor, who then polished them into a novel disguised as documentary literature. It was embraced and popularized by Gotham's conspiracy theorists, spawning numerous bizarre yet plausible analytical articles.
The magazine is currently sold out and has even added a column called cowlumn, which is dedicated to discussing owl conspiracy theories and accepting submissions from the public.
This is simply a clumsy combination of the English word "owl" and the English word "column." However, a significant number of conspiracy theorists seem unable to grasp this simple humor, viewing it as a window into the owl's rule over Gotham, and firmly believing that if the column's articles are interpreted in a certain way, the secrets of Gotham's economic trends and personnel changes can be unlocked.
The theory of Wayne being kept by a sugar daddy was first proposed by a few small business owners whose market share had been squeezed out by Thomas, and then popularized by gang members who had been dealt with by the Night Owls. They hit it off with third-rate, vulgar tabloids, purely wanting to annoy Thomas and the Night Owls, but unexpectedly created a considerable market, and even attracted many unsuspecting outsiders to get involved in this event.
Who gets abused depends mainly on whether Thomas or Nite Owl is more annoying recently... but overall, Thomas gets abused more.
Because of Night Owl's meticulous work, few of his enemies could speak anymore. Thomas, on the other hand, seemed more merciful, giving these people the opportunity to continue their literary creations while in prison.
This is perhaps the essence of the saying "kindness is often taken advantage of."
Getting back to the main point, although both sides are extremely unreliable and have no substantial evidence, while they are doing their best to inject new vitality into Gotham's stagnant entertainment environment, they have inadvertently hit the nail on the head regarding the truth—albeit only half of it each.
In other words, Nite Owl not only took Wayne's money and controlled the gang, but also occupied Gotham's Court of Owls, becoming the de facto ruler of Gotham.
It was very difficult, extremely difficult, but he actually did it.
To understand how he did it, we seem to need to look further back, to... about fifty years ago.
Thomas wasn't even in this universe back then.
He comes from Earth 3, a bizarre universe where good and evil are reversed.
A note from the author:
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