Chapter 87 All Evil Birds Are Evil ( )
"So what are you doing here instead of sleeping? Waiting to watch the sunrise?"
Thomas Jr., dressed in pajamas, stood behind Bruce with his arms crossed, speaking in an unfriendly tone.
“Probably just getting some fresh air,” Bruce said, standing on the terrace with his hand on the railing. “How did you know I was here?”
“It could be telepathy, or it could be something like the unspoken understanding between brothers…” Thomas said expressionlessly, “Of course, it’s definitely not because I watched the surveillance footage.”
Bruce glanced back, then turned back around.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm sure the person standing behind me right now isn't Alfred Pennyworth, but Thomas Wayne Jr."
“Thanks, at least this time you didn’t say anything about teenage,” Thomas stepped closer, “Aren’t you worried I’ll kick you off the stage?”
“Why should I worry about that? Everything I just said is the truth,” Bruce said calmly. “Besides, I’ve learned how to quickly adjust my center of gravity after falling from a height and how to dissipate the force upon landing. Even without any equipment, falling from this height would at most result in minor injuries.”
“‘Just a minor injury,’ and tomorrow morning you’ll be facing all sorts of questions,” Thomas said, lifting his foot, itching to strike. “You should thank me for giving you guys more opportunities to spend time together…”
Bruce was unsure whether his earnest tone was true or false, and could only hesitate before taking a step back and leaving the railing.
Thomas Jr. stepped forward, took the spot where Bruce had just been, and leaned against the railing, facing Bruce.
"So you really want to see the sunrise?" He gripped the railing, leaned back forcefully, and looked up at the dark night sky. "We won't even see the moon tonight. I bet it'll rain heavily tomorrow."
The two remained silent for a while, neither of them speaking, only the howling wind could be heard.
“What do you think I should do, Tommy?” Bruce asked hesitantly. “I’m hesitant about whether to tell them the truth.”
"You're actually asking me?" Thomas Jr. snapped out of his daze. "How could I possibly know?"
I was four years old when they died, and I was eight when I killed them.
“Who else can I ask?” Bruce pulled Thomas, who was halfway over the railing, back in. “The other members of this family seem to have a bias against Batman, so I don’t think they can give fair and objective advice.”
“Alfred,” Thomas thought for a moment, “I think Alfred should be able to do it.”
I can't possibly be fair and objective in my opinion of Batman; I really have a grudge against him.
“I’ll ask him, thanks for reminding me,” Bruce said, pulling Thomas further away from the railing. “Don’t you have any better suggestions?”
"I have no idea what you're thinking."
"Guess for yourself."
“Okay,” Thomas said casually after a moment’s thought, “you’re worried they’ll interfere with your future career plans?”
...what is that?
“I didn’t want them to worry about my safety. It’s ridiculous that I only remembered that when they were worried about you just now,” Bruce said quietly. “It’s strange that I’m even starting to understand your thoughts now, Tommy, when I was questioning your mental state just a day ago.”
Is my thinking really that unreasonable?!
“Why worry about that? We’re all going to die anyway. Maybe I’ll choke to death on a pickle sandwich tomorrow, and you’ll fall down the stairs and die,” Thomas said irritably. “Every living person should be prepared to die at any time.”
"So your conversation strategy is to make people so angry that they can't remember what they were worried about before?"
"I suggest you tell the truth."
“No,” Bruce quickly rejected Thomas’s suggestion. “If I told the truth, they would worry all night.”
"Then you're lying."
“Lies won’t work either. What if I really die one day, and Alfred tells them my true identity at my funeral…” Bruce sighed. “What should I do?”
“Okay,” Thomas said, getting a little more serious, “then why don’t you give up being Batman and actually become a private detective who helps people find their cats?”
This is an absolutely perfect idea. If Bruce really decides to quit being Batman, every adult in this family will applaud and celebrate the good news.
This naturally includes Thomas Jr., because it means he can deal with one less Batman in his plan to destroy the world.
"I can't abandon Gotham; Gotham needs me."
“This is a bit of a problem. You don’t want to give up your identity as Batman, and you don’t want Martha and old Thomas to worry. Now you don’t know whether you should be honest with them or not…” Thomas looked at him, “but I have a good suggestion.”
"What?"
Bruce perked up. He wasn't really convinced by Thomas's "good advice," but at least he was willing to believe in Thomas's intelligence.
"Go to the kitchen now and steal me an ice cream."
"And then? Is this the exchange for letting you offer suggestions?"
“And then? There’s nothing then,” Thomas stared at him. “I just wanted to test whether you were going to reject every piece of my advice.”
“You know what?” Bruce stared at him too, “In pedagogy, corporal punishment is clearly considered an unscientific and inappropriate form of education, but sometimes I really want to beat you up, Tommy.”
“You’ve never taught me anything,” Thomas said quietly, then quickly changed the subject (not in a physical sense, of course) when Bruce actually tried to teach him. “It’s really simple: if you can’t tell the truth, just tell a few nice lies.”
"for example?"
“For example,” Thomas Jr. gave a slightly mocking smile, “I love everyone in this family, Bruce, I love you all!”
?
"Are you lying again?"
“Who knows? You can guess for yourself,” Thomas said, his smile fading. “Anyway, you’re not in the mood to worry about anything else right now.”
He left the terrace.
The sunlight struggled to peek through the thick clouds; dawn was breaking.
-
"This morning, as the morning light bathed Gotham, a rare guest arrived at Wayne Manor."
The crowd surrounding Wayne Manor was driven away by strong and dutiful "bodyguards," and an elegant limousine pulled up in front of the main gate.
The maid got out of the car first and opened the door for her charming, bird-like employer. A clean, white hand reached out…
"So who exactly came? Can't you let me sleep a little longer?"
Bruce squinted, trying to adjust to the bright light, and his voice was rather muffled: "I just fell asleep."
He tried to sit up in bed, but obviously failed. Bruce tripped over his slippers, fell back onto the bed, and closed his eyes again.
“Actually, it’s the Penguin,” Alfred revealed the visitor’s true identity with a blank expression. “He said he was looking for young Thomas.”
"...Do you have to use those adjectives to describe the Penguin, Alfred?" Upon hearing "Penguin," Bruce struggled to sit up on the edge of the bed.
“Yeah,” Dick said quietly, standing at the door watching the commotion. “I’m feeling a bit nauseous now.”
Although it was he who gave Alfred the idea.
Incidentally, Jason volunteered to write the article.
“I just think this narrative style can be more shocking when revealing the truth,” Alfred said, looking at Bruce who had regained his senses. “Narrative trick.”
“Great, so now Wayne Manor has an Alfred who looks like Thomas and a Thomas who looks like Alfred,” Bruce said, haphazardly putting on the clothes Alfred handed him. “Honestly, I have no idea which one is more terrifying.”
“I don’t know either,” Alfred glanced at the clock, “but I think that young master Thomas, who looks like Alfred, is still asleep. To be efficient, could you please wake him for me?”
“Can we join in?” Dick grabbed Jason and put his arm around his shoulder. “For the sake of efficiency, maybe Thomas needs more help.”
Alfred glanced at the clock again.
"I'll need about three minutes to make the bed for Master Bruce."
"Yay!"
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Author's note: I watched Two Earths Crisis again, and that owl was either completely drooping its mouth or laughing ( ) It's a cat with a completely unpredictable mood.
Batman rarely smiles in this movie. According to my count, he only smiled once at the very end (and only one corner of his mouth turned up) (maybe he was too busy to smile). He was a completely serious and solemn cat.
-
I hate going to my relatives' houses; the more than one-hour car ride makes me so dizzy...
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