Yet it was because of this very specific diagnostic result that Thomas's fingertips began to tremble.
He had some knowledge of medicine, but was not well-versed in psychiatry or psychology. Therefore, his thinking in this regard was like most people's. As soon as he saw words like "to be classified", " pervasive", "developmental", he would associate it with incurable diseases.
At that time, Shiller prescribed a lot of medicine for Bruce, some of which were placebos, so the list of medications was long and looked frightening. What's even more frightening was that the prescription was signed by Schiller Rodriguez.
Thomas was not a native of this universe, so he did not know about Schiller's renowned reputation in this world, but he did know that Schiller was the Joker.
The fact that Batman went to the Joker for medical treatment was tricky to state. If the Joker took it seriously and diagnosed a disease, that means Batman must be very ill. But if the Joker didn't find any illness, and Batman still paid for the prescription, then his condition must be even worse.
As the saying goes, if people don't agree to open the window, suggest removing the ceiling, then everyone will certainly agree to open the window.
If Thomas objected to his son becoming Batman, he could simply show him Bruce's terrible performance at school, a pile of mental illness diagnoses, and prescriptions. Then he would definitely agree to allow Bruce to be Batman.
After all, becoming Batman is better than being a mental patient. The tragedy of Martha had already fully illustrated this point to Thomas. Doing anything is better than being crazy.
A few minutes later, Thomas, sitting on the sofa, had not only these grades in his hand, but also numerous diagnosis papers and receipts. He then simply removed his mask, revealing his wrinkled exterior etched within time.
Jason, who had just finished his homework, ran downstairs for water, and saw Thomas looking worried.
Dick had been deceived by Thomas, thus he didn't trust him. Tim seemed somewhat afraid of Thomas, only Jason, he was quite interested in Thomas.
"What's wrong?" Jason stepped forward and asked, "Do you need help?"
Without waiting for Thomas' response, Jason moved closer, peeked at the large stack of papers in his hands, and then showed a look of revelation.
Thomas was observing his response. Seeing Jason's unsurprised expression, he asked with some doubt, "Have you seen these things?"
"Of course, I was there when the professor was writing the diagnosis. I even asked him for help with spelling."
Thomas hesitated for a moment, then he beckoned Jason over. Jason walked forward a few steps confusedly, sensing Thomas' lack of malevolence. Indeed, Thomas gently ruffled his hair and said, "Don't tell anyone, okay?"
"Who are you referring to?" Jason asked very bluntly, he didn't wait for Thomas to respond before saying, "Are you referring to the people at Wayne Manor? They already know."
"Bruce could never deceive Alfred. Everything of his is kept by the butler. Dick has the closest relationship with him, often entering his bedroom, and would have seen it. Tim is very smart and already knows everything from Dick."
"As for Aisha... I suggest you put these things away quickly, or else they will be in Aisha's stomach tonight. She is the most efficient paper shredder here."
Thomas stared at Jason with his wrinkled eyes. In Jason's eyes, he saw two completely different temperaments. There was the wildness from the chaotic streets of Gotham, a dark city, and there was the intellect from knowledge and philosophical thinking.
"There is no father who wants his son to be ill." Thomas began, he was about to say the next sentence, but Jason beat him to it: "Neither is there a son who wants his father to be ill. Do you think you're not ill?"
Thomas looked at him blankly. Jason put his hands behind his back, lowered his eyelashes, then said, "If you were not ill, you wouldn't have broken three of your own son's ribs, forcing him to follow his friends to other cities for treatment rather than being able to recover at home."
Thomas looked again at the diagnoses. He realized that he was really good at tolerating craziness. Whether it was the Joker, Martha, or Bruce, upon learning that they might have mental illnesses, Thomas's only hope would be for them to be able to live independently.
Thomas sighed deeply and stood up. He turned to Alfred and said, "Get me a plane ticket. I'm going to Kansas."
Before Alfred could respond, a loud explosion reverberated from the gate of Wayne Manor.
Instinctively, Thomas pressed Jason down. After the explosion, the dust dissipated, Thomas saw the gate of Wayne Manor collapse. In the night, a somewhat familiar figure stood outside the gate.
"Joker..." Thomas squinted his eyes, the instincts of Batman buzzed, but instead of Schiller whom he had met before, another Joker appeared outside the gate.
He was in a truck driver's uniform, holding a half-eaten chicken leg in one hand and a bomb detonator in the other.
"Hello, my name is Jack. A colleague of mine, oh, an ex-colleague, called me and told me that my little bat had found his father. I've been busy at work recently and haven't been able to visit. I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Batman."
Thomas wasted no time in small talk; pulling out three Batman darts from his waist, he threw them at Joker Jack. Joker Jack rolled on the spot, shook his head while laughing, "Great Mr. Batman, aren't you going to let poor Joker plead before you act?"
As Thomas was loading his gun and keeping his gaze on Joker Jack, his expression looked like he was saying "I really want to see what kind of nonsense you can come up with."
However, the next words of Joker Jack caused him to widen his eyes gradually.
Jack showed an exaggerated smile, limping over in front of Thomas. He pulled out a crumpled paper note from his pocket and confidently slapped it on the coffee table.
Thomas glanced at the note and then froze. At the same time, the words of Jack rang in his ear.
"You can't hit me, otherwise, by tomorrow, everyone in Gotham will know that the tyrannical Waynes owe money and don't pay, and they even beat up their creditors!"
"That's right, your son owes me 100 dollars and still hasn't paid! Here, this is the IOU, undeniable, hurry up and get him to repay me!".
Thomas's vision went black.