In the spring of 1992, just when the snow had started to melt and the city was starting to recover from the last disaster, the streets of Gotham were finally coming back to life, especially the bustling business streets where pedestrians and cars were constantly passing by.
People stepping out onto the streets again were surprised to find a new shop tucked away in the most flourishing business street. What shocked them even more was that it was a bookstore.
Opening a bookstore in Gotham? It sounded like a less-than-funny joke riddled with absurdity.
Yet, this bookstore had positioned itself in such a prime location, not making any attempts at promotion despite its apparent lack of customers.
Most shops, upon reopening, would hold various welcoming events. A plump lady stood outside the bakery next door, offering passersby free samples of bread, while a hair salon on the other side had hired several children to distribute flyers.
But the entrance of this bookstore was desolate and quiet, with no sign of any promotional activities, which led people to wonder how this business, presumably run by a business genius, hoped to cover the sky-high central city rents with just a bookstore.
However, soon enough, those onlookers curiously sizing up the bookstore noticed that it did have customers, but they all seemed rather mysterious.
Typically dressed in dark trench coats with scarves covering half of their faces and the brim of their fedoras pulled low, these customers neither rode bicycles nor took cars but walked to the bookstore from some back alley.
Despite these disguises, it was clear from certain details that those frequenting the shop were either wealthy or noble, apparent from their immaculately-kept clothes and the fact that many held umbrellas or walking canes.
Rarely did these patrons come or leave alone, always followed by a sturdy, emotionless figure who'd continue to guard the entrance once the patron had entered.
Many of the experienced neighborhood folk warned their children never to mess with this bookstore, able to discern the origins of its patrons.
"I really didn't expect you to come this early," Shiller warmly greeted as he stepped forward to embrace Evans, then lightly hugged Evans' wife. Evans had been married for several months, and the couple seemed to be both well-matched and deeply in love.
Evans burst out in a radiant smile, saying, "Professor, it's your shop. Of course, I'd have to support you at the earliest opportunity. Isha and I got up early. We must be the first to arrive, right?"
"Of course, the only ones who came earlier than you were the newsboys who deliver my breakfast." Shiller indicated the half-eaten breakfast on his desk. Now the godfather's wife, known as Isha to Evans, laughed. "I'm sorry, professor, for interrupting your breakfast. I asked Evans not to be so eager, but he wouldn't listen."
"No problem," Shiller shook his head and looked at her kindly. "I heard you came from Metropolis? You two met during a theatre rehearsal?"
Isha blushed slightly and nodded. "Yes, I'm a small-town girl. My family runs a dairy farm, and I graduated from the Metropolis Art Academy just this year."
Evans spoke excitedly, "The Gotham University cheerleading team wanted to perform traditional plays at the school celebration, so they invited teachers and students from the Metropolis Art Academy for rehearsals. That's when Isha and I met."
"That sounds like a special fate." Shiller commented. "Not many girls have the courage to come to Gotham."
Isha smiled, "Actually, it's not that bad. My classmates are very curious about this city. The hip-hop culture here is just mind-blowing. It's the place with the most vibrant street culture on the East Coast. If the cost of living weren't so high, they'd all want to travel here."
Shiller raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Aren't they afraid it's not safe?"
"Didn't you know? An intern reporter from the Metropolis Daily published a travel guide to Gotham, outlining a safe tourist route. People have already tried it out, and as long as you follow the guide, it's not only safe, but you can also experience the city's unique features."
Evans couldn't hold back his laughter, "Professor, could you believe it? The attractions in his guide include staying awake in one's hotel room late at night to wait for Batman to appear!"
Shiller paused, then joined Evans in laughter, "Are you saying Batman's become one of Gotham's special tourist attractions?"
"Absolutely! He's fascinating!" proclaimed Isha excitedly. "You could be in any city worldwide, yet you'd never see a man with such a perfect physique in gear worth hundreds of millions of dollars, perched atop a billion-dollar building, gazing into the distance."
"My classmates and friends from the academy keep asking me what hotel room has the best view of him. They're absolutely smitten by his jawline!"
"But I heard, his reputation was a bit... not the best..." Shiller questioned with a hint of doubt, causing Isha to pause before responding, "A bad reputation? What's wrong with his reputation? And what does that have to do with the tourists? People just want to see him because he's handsome."
Shiller nodded and said, "That's true."
Isha looked inside the bookstore and said, "I believe your bookstore would be quite popular among them. University students have a preference for European literature to seem sophisticated, especially when it comes to hardcovers. Even if they don't read them, they can collect them."
Shiller's eyes sparkled as he looked at Isha and said, "I've been worrying that my bookstore would lack customers. After all, you know, as Gothamites, many of them are not particularly fond of reading. Fewer still enjoy buying hardcovers, let alone those collectable books. I would be more than happy to discuss with the students if there's an opportunity to expand my business..."
Evans gave Isha a look, but Isha displayed a look of difficulty. She turned to Shiller, saying: "Evans has told me about the many ways you have taken care of him. I'd also like to publicize your shop, but I'm just an art school student with no influential background. My voice doesn't carry much weight…"
After some thought, Isha had Evans tear a piece of scrap paper from the door. She then picked up Shiller's pen, wrote down a series of phone numbers, and handed them to Shiller. Then she said:
"This is a contact from Metropolis Daily. You can call him to find out who the intern journalist behind the travel guide is. If you get your bookstore included in the travel guide, tourists will sure love to come to check it out."
Shiller took the note, carefully read it, and bookmarked it. After the Evans couple left, he moved to the telephone by the door to call the number on the note.
Meanwhile at Wayne Manor, Bruce was sitting on the sofa looking exhausted. The bottle of Mad Liquor on the table in front of him was already half-empty.
Apparently, the journey inside Dick's mind was far from smooth. Bruce did find Dick in his dream world, but Dick fled as soon as he saw him. Furthermore, he was too swift for Bruce to catch up with.
More importantly, that Dick was clearly showing signs of abnormality. While his face and figure hadn't changed, his ears had transformed into pig's ears. On one of his ears, Bruce noticed an uppercase "V" was marked.
This implies that Dick had indeed been influenced, by this mysterious person named V.
If this were in another person's world, Bruce would have taken military action without hesitation. But within Dick's mind, he couldn't do so. Any damage might directly cause irreversible mental trauma.
Over the past few days, Bruce made numerous attempts to tackle mysterious V's influence on Dick without hurting him, all ended in vain.
Just as Bruce was at his wits' end, Alfred came in and reported: "Sir, Mr. Kent is here. Would you like to see him?"
"Kent? Clark Kent?" Realising, Bruce hesitated for a moment, then told Alfred, "Let him in."
Clark, who walked in, was as usual- wearing a white shirt, carrying a shoulder bag, wearing black rimmed glasses. He shook hands with Bruce warmly, then said, "I heard you're studying for your Master's degree now? That's a superb decision. I had always wanted to study further too, but I needed to start earning money early, hence chose to work instead…"
Bruce had a vague conversation with him. Aware that something was not quite right with Bruce, Clark glanced at the half-empty bottle of liquor on the table and his eyebrows furrowed.
"Bruce, I must advise you that no matter the troubles you face, thinking you can drown your sorrows in alcohol is the most negative approach! Being intoxicated can only hinder your genius mind from functioning optimally. You need to lift your spirits!"
"Are you kidding? Can you not tell that that's not ordinary liquor?" another voice chimed in, more sulky than the previous. A small, black head emerged from the gap in Clark's bag. Bat Cat stared at Clark with blue eyes: "Clearly, this guy is facing a problem that he can't solve."
Clark unzipped his bag and took out Bat Cat. Seeing Bat Cat again, Bruce blurted out his first impression: "…why have you become as round as a ball?"
Bat Cat sneered at him, baring two small fangs. Clark was cradling Bat Cat, looking down at him, "Has he gained weight? I don't think so. For a cat, isn't his size just about right?"
Bat Cat glanced down at his belly. He was not exactly plump. He had just gone from a trim, well-muscled feral cat to a more homely pet cat.
Clark scratched the chin of Bat Cat, which made the cat squint his eyes. Then he explained, "After I graduated, I took him back to my family's farm. My parents are both very fond of him and they might have fed him a tad too much... But no worries, as long as he exercises, he'll slim down soon."
While looking at Bat Cat, a spark lit up in Bruce's eyes. He didn't voice out his thoughts, instead he turned to Clark: "Was there something you needed from me?"
Clark didn't expect him to pivot the conversation so quickly, he showed an awkward expression, shifted his sitting position, and started rubbing his hands together. He looked at Bruce and asked:
"Did you stop patrolling recently?"