Chapter 6: The Ninja, the Cow Cat, Big Alfred, and Blue...
As a seasoned veteran agent, Alfred could tell that Thomas was serious; at least subjectively, he wasn't lying.
This made him furrow his brows deeply (even during street fights, his emotions hadn't fluctuated this much), and Alfred's worldview seemed to have been greatly shaken: "I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you mean. I could never lay a hand on Lord Wayne and Mrs. Wayne."
“Of course,” Thomas said. “That world is different from this one in many ways, and this is just one of them.”
"...I'm afraid I can't think of anything more different than this."
For example, the Wayne couple are villains, Bruce died a violent death, Gotham has an extremely low crime rate, most people have their hearts on the right side, and the president is a great person who cares about people's livelihood.
Thomas didn't say anything, and instead changed the subject.
"In short, for some reasons I can't tell you, I suddenly realized a few days ago that this could still happen, and out of distrust, I decided to act alone."
"Are you worried I'll do something?"
“That’s right. Because of my imperfect empiricism, I can’t properly distinguish the differences between the two worlds.” He looked down at his wound and reminded Alfred, “Remember to buy a new shotgun tomorrow. I tampered with that old one. It won’t feed properly and it will jam.”
"...Luckily, no mice got into the kitchen today."
“Now this has happened again, and it’s far from over.” Thomas Jr., expressionless, reset his dislocated right hand and forcefully steered the conversation back on track. “On the day I remember, Bruce also died.”
"Who did this?"
“I,” Thomas Jr. said without any attempt to hide it, “killed him with my own hands.”
Whether intentional or not, Bruce from Earth-Three did indeed die at his hands.
The room fell silent again, save for the sounds of Alfred bandaging Thomas and Bruce's slightly nasal breathing in his sleep.
"Why are you suddenly telling me all this?" Alfred, being a former special agent, immediately grasped the crux of the matter. "You still don't trust me, yet you're telling me all this? If you hadn't told me, I would never have known. And letting me know that you killed Bruce from another world seems utterly useless for our cooperation."
“Of course it’s because the matter hasn’t been resolved yet.” Thomas said with a gloomy face. “And I won’t die anytime soon. As long as a person isn’t going to die, they should find something to do.”
"What issue remains unresolved?"
Thomas Jr. did not answer him directly: "Even if there is a huge gap between the two worlds, similar events will always happen. For example, in my world, the Wayne family is still a wealthy family in Gotham, and has not become a beggar."
"so?"
"So I'm still worried that Bruce will die; no matter how you look at it, he's in danger."
The situation spiraled out of control, making Thomas a little anxious: "Bruce will definitely try to find out the truth about this murder, and he'll be willing to put himself in the tiger's mouth for it. If you and I stop him, he'll definitely take matters into his own hands and make things even more dangerous."
...This is probably the sentence Alfred agrees with most tonight. Young Master Bruce has a healthy body, a sharp mind, firm beliefs, love for his parents, and a huge sum of money in the bank. It will obviously be very difficult to stop him.
"If Bruce doesn't find anything, that's fine. But what if he does? Will he be silenced? So many eyes are on the Wayne family's wealth. What if someone wants to influence him, use him, or kidnap him..."
What do you need me to do?
“Be my agent, do things for me.” Thomas sat up straight. “There are some things I’m clearly not suited to do myself, like bribing congressmen, threatening newspapers, manipulating gangs…”
Alfred silenced him with a sharp gaze.
“I won’t do these things for you. I think they’re too much for a child who is only four years old in terms of physical age, and they would only bring more trouble to the family.”
"Okay, then I won't do it."
Thomas Jr. readily retracted the assignments, so readily that Alfred felt he had only said it to test Alfred's limits.
"I need a professional laboratory and a private office, and I also need your help to set up a technology company and a construction company."
This sounds much more acceptable, not difficult, and not dangerous. Tech companies and construction companies probably can't do much about it.
It's fortunate that Thomas Jr. made this request at this crucial moment. A few years later, Gotham would be overrun with mad scientists, and prisons and mental hospitals would be overflowing with highly educated criminals. At that point, Alfred would definitely not have agreed to his plan.
But Alfred was now alert enough: "May I know what your purpose is in receiving these?"
“Of course,” Thomas told him readily. “The reason I’m setting up the lab and the tech company is because I remember some cutting-edge technological advancements from another world and want to register patents in advance. I also suspect that a lot of buildings in Gotham will be destroyed in the next few years, and a construction company would help me participate in Gotham’s reconstruction and make a lot of money.”
"To protect Bruce, I need to establish myself at Wayne Enterprises, and I need to establish myself in Gotham."
In reality, aside from the part about protecting Bruce, the rest was all lies. The purpose of establishing their own holding technology company was to completely control the core patents, prevent internal problems within Wayne Enterprises, and incidentally, to secretly research some dangerous things.
The construction company was there to figure out Gotham's buildings and "hidden locations" like the Court of Owls, which would also allow him to tamper with things at certain "key points" and gain control of Gotham.
Alfred was skeptical of his claims, but Bruce didn't tell Alfred what Thomas had done in the alley, so he couldn't guess that Thomas was actually a nihilist with a strong tendency towards self-destruction, who would drag everyone down with him when he went crazy.
So he agreed.
"You actually believe me?" Thomas seemed somewhat surprised. "I've never been a trustworthy person."
“I believe in your love for Master Bruce, Master Thomas.” This was certainly true. He could not have witnessed Thomas’s past, but his extraordinary concern for Bruce was evident to all. “Besides, no matter what your past was like, you are now a child of the Wayne family.”
After hearing his words, Thomas Jr. remained silent for a moment, neither confirming nor denying it: "Really? I understand."
I don't know what he found out.
Thomas Jr. got through this hurdle, but Alfred wasn't so easy to deal with either. He gave Thomas Jr. a meaningful look and said, "So how do you plan to keep Bruce in check?"
“There’s nothing we can do; we can’t stop him. It’s just a matter of you and me keeping an eye on him,” Thomas sighed.
You can't exactly give Bruce some newspapers to tear up, can you? Bruce isn't a cat.
“Based on your acting skills, I have a better idea, young master Thomas.” Alfred finished treating Thomas’s wound, stood up, picked up the hot water and white towel that had been cooled, and said, “I will tell him that you have a serious mental problem and severe separation anxiety, and that you need him to stay with you.”
Alfred came up with a brilliant idea that would benefit both sides—from then on, either the black and white cat would watch over Beagle, or Beagle would watch over the black and white cat; in any case, being tolerant would never be a loss.
“That’s certainly a good reason, Alfred. In your mind, I could use this as an excuse to pester Bruce all day long. But have you considered this problem?”
Thomas's expression was colder than usual, which made Alfred feel that this was his true self without any pretense: "I was only involved in half of Bruce's life, but his parents were there for him the whole time."
"So, you don't think Young Master Bruce will choose you? Why?" Alfred asked, somewhat surprised.
Why would Isaiah Thomas think that way? To any normal person, living family members carry more weight than cold, hard truths, especially Bruce, who has always valued his younger brother.
“I don’t need anyone’s choice,” Thomas said, avoiding the topic, “but I believe Bruce is very likely to investigate the truth while I’m not looking.”
"There's no need to worry about that. I'll take his place as the detective."
Although both of them knew perfectly well that Bruce could not be stopped.
Bruce possesses the stubbornness inherited from the Wayne family; he's as stubborn as a Schnauzer and will find ways to do what he wants.
But at least for now, they have reached a consensus on the issue of Bruce's custody.
The two exchanged a glance.
"Please don't look at me like that, Alfred. I've only cried once since I was eight, four years ago, and I've almost forgotten how to cry."
Alfred looked away and took out Mr. Thomas's saline solution from the medicine box.
“I can’t cheat with saline solution forever.” Thomas took a deep breath. “From a clinical psychology perspective, patients with post-traumatic stress disorder may have a diminished response to emotional stimuli, difficulty experiencing strong emotional changes, and exhibit symptoms similar to separation anxiety, such as excessive dependence on attachment figures or fear of separation. So my performance was perfectly correct. And our script can be officially performed tomorrow; you can have a psychologist vouch for it.”
“I’m glad that your past world still had psychological research, young Thomas.”
"Obviously not, Alfred. At least I've never seen a guy in that world with the leisure to study psychology. Anyone who studies psychology in that world should first study themselves. Such a person is either the biggest fool or the greatest saint in the world. If such a great person really exists, I salute him from across the universe." Thomas retorted, "I saw this knowledge in the medical books in my study."
Alfred was clearly just making his daily British rant, but he didn't realize that Thomas's world was so... abstract.
He fell silent again, quietly soaking the towel in hot water and then wringing it out.
Thomas gently nudged Bruce: "Wake up, Bruce, dry yourself off, let's go back to the bedroom to sleep."
-
Bruce lay in bed, unable to sleep.
When he closed his eyes, all he could see were his parents lying on the ground and little Thomas with his head exploded.
Nightmares haunted him, so he simply got out of bed and walked through the dark Wayne Manor.
The once warm and cozy home is now as silent as a graveyard, as eerie and terrifying as a ghost.
Bruce seemed to have never known this place before. He stumbled through several rooms before finally finding Thomas's bedroom.
He opened the door and called softly, "Tommy, Tommy?"
Then, Bruce saw Thomas Jr., who was also having trouble sleeping, standing by the window and turning to look at him.
"!"
Bruce angrily yanked him away from the window: "Have you forgotten what you promised me, Tommy?"
Thomas, who didn't actually intend to jump off the building, was just suffering from insomnia and unusually sentimental and wanted to look at the moon: "...I remember."
Whether he lives or dies is meaningless to Isaiah Thomas; he doesn't want to commit suicide every day.
"Remember to sleep well!" Bruce tried to carry little Thomas back to bed, but then realized that his crib was a bit small and couldn't fit two people.
“We can go sleep with Alfred,” Thomas suggested.
Bruce also wanted to stay with Alfred, so he carried little Thomas toward Alfred's room.
"This is the first time I've ever seen you so disobedient, Tommy!"
“I’m sorry, Bruce, I worried you.” Thomas struggled a couple of times, but Bruce held him tighter. “I can walk by myself…”
“No!” Bruce immediately retorted, “Your leg is injured like this, you can’t move it around.”
So Thomas obediently shut his mouth.
And so, Alfred, who went out because he was worried that the two Wayne boys wouldn't be able to sleep, bumped into Bruce, who was holding little Thomas in the same way he was holding a cat.
The three of them stood facing each other in front of Bruce's bedroom.
A note from the author:
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Thomas Jr.'s role was probably... a kind of spiritual newspaper? He used his abstract behavior and superb acting skills to wear down Bruce's energy.
As I was writing, I felt that Butler was simply the ultimate ninja (eyes shifted). The cow cat was always ready to run out of the house (when he was a child, he sneaked out to investigate cat laws and locked himself up for a long time). Beagle was always planning to do bad things and his mouth was full of truths and lies, with hardly any useful words. He had the appearance of a delicacy and the soul of a great demon king!
And so, the cow cat, the beagle, and the ninja lived happily ever after (not really).
The psychology part was found online. It seems that using a technology company under one's own name to control core patents was something Tencent did? I forgot where I saw this case, but I just copied it here. Indeed, you have to look at real people for amazing operations.
My inspiration is really strong during finals week (eyes wandering). Just thinking about studying gives me the motivation to even write. I'm going to fail both Calculus and English, and I'm searching for "What are some Western literary figures with post-traumatic stress disorder?"... but in the end, I still can't find a suitable one for Little Thomas to act out.
I feel like it's impossible for this article to be approved. It's been completely disastrous, I'm so anxious [heartbroken]. The final verdict will probably be in the next day or two, and I still have to write a new story with a different premise, plus exams. It's so tough [crying].
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