The dark alleyway was not completely obscured in Batman's line of sight. His night vision equipment installed on his mask had long been activated, allowing him to clearly see the man falling from the air in front of him.
The moment he saw the man, countless pieces of information filtered through his brain. Batman stared at him, asking, "What are you allergic to?"
His tone wasn't extraordinary, it was Batman as usual, expressing himself with a question that revealed a certain fact and not expecting anyone to respond.
'None of your business.', The man surprisingly reciprocated with a resistant attitude. Batman stood still, then probed another question:
`How many people have you killed?`
Indeed, this was not a question either.
After an inquiry that the other party could not answer receives a negative response, immediately following up with a lethal question, a kind-hearted person with a conscience would feel guilty for answering the first question, hence would seriously ponder whether to respond to the second.
Even if there is still no answer, the hesitation displayed in that moment would be evidence enough, a frequently seen negotiation tactic.
Batman did not feel tense; his attitude seemed slightly odd.
Like he was twirling a fork dreamily after a filling meal, only to discover one last piece of dessert on the table, or like during the sunset while strolling back home, spotting a cat rummaging through a garbage can, and sparing a moment of leisure to contemplate the philosophical meanings behind city life and the natural world.
Batman observed that the man's first move after getting up from the ground was to grab his loose tie and pull it out from its irregularly tied form. Then he took off the tie that was slightly wet from the rain.
"You're preparing your weapon."
With the same affirmed tone over and over again, even as the man put the tie back on, Batman didn't waver.
"A detective or killer who has just returned from Mexico, dumped from a height of three meters, remembering something about the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and also a teacher who has just finished preparing a lecture."
Batman unusually expressed in a long sentence. It was an affirmation, yet it came across as a question.
The screen in the Thought Palace froze on those blue eyes underneath the mask. Barry jumped up and ran towards the screen, pointing at Batman's face and complaining indignantly, "You see, that's him! He always seems to know the future!"
"Is he the Batman of your universe?" asked Bruce. It was merely a question, but it made everyone in the room feel a tad uncomfortable. After all, Bruce and the Batman on the screen had similar voices and tones, but their styles were strikingly different, creating an eerie sense of déjà vu.
Barry nodded and said, "When you said that Professor Shearer would easily escape, I had no choice but to go on the track I know best."
Bruce nodded without saying another word, but Clark, who had just been brought to the theatre, looked bewildered. He spread his hands and asked, "Can someone explain to me what's going on? Didn't we agree to treat Professor Shearer? Where is he? Can you tell me what happened, Bruce?"
"Haven't you figured it out yet? He has a treatment plan of his own," Constantine, sitting in front of Clark, turned around and said. "He's placed your beloved professor in another universe."
"But aren't we in Professor Shearer's Thought Palace right now?" Clark seemed a bit slow to catch up. "Are you telling me we've also travelled to another universe?"
"You could understand it that way. Professor Shearer went back to his Thought Palace due to his allergy to broccoli while his body was still in the fields of Mexico," Bruce explained.
"Barry used his Divine Speed to bring Shearer's body across universes to another one with Batman. Naturally, the Thought Palace in his soul also traversed universes."
"But, there's a hole linking the Dreamworld at the bottom of Shearer's Thought Palace. After Dream God Morpheus left, he transferred part of his authority to me," Constantine continued. "So, our souls can reach the bottom of the hole through the Dreamworld and enter Shearer's Thought Palace."
"And there is more than one Shearer in the Thought Palace. When I and another Shearer with higher authority opened the door for you, you naturally walked in," said Greed while tossing a popcorn into his mouth."
"So right now, it's as if our souls were carried to another universe by Shearer's body?" Clark summarized after careful consideration.
"That's the case for everyone else, but you are different," Lucifer, sitting in the front row, brushed the feather on his wing gently. "Your soul is special and cannot entirely enter; otherwise, the high tower would collapse. So, only you and I here are somewhat consciousness projections rather than whole souls."
Clark nodded in acknowledgment, but then he raised his voice, "Isn't this extremely dangerous? What if something happens to Shearer's body, wouldn't all our souls be in danger?"
"Didn't you hear what I said earlier?" sighed Constantine. "There's a hole on the ground of Shearer's Thought Palace that leads directly to the Dreamworld. If something really happened, wouldn't we run away?"
"What? You're actually planning on running if Professor Shearer is in danger?" Jason turned around and glared at Constantine. "You awful person!"
"Is this your first time meeting me?" Constantine retorted. Then he murmured under his breath, "If he's in danger, we should definitely run. Wouldn't he ditch us anyway?"
"Coward!" Harley confidently voiced her judgment. Then she and Jason flanked Constantine with menacing glares.
Constantine took a sharp breath and looked at them, "How can you be so presumptuous? Do you know what I've been through?"
"Alright, enough bickering. Looks like someone is about to get into trouble," Greed laughed and cued.
"Good evening, Batman, the clairvoyant."
Batman heard a hoarse voice. From the very breath between words, he could tell that the other party wasn't doing particularly well. What struck him as puzzling was that the person on the other side was not trying to hide this. The feeling of weakness was persistent.
"Did you just see how high the place was from where I fell?"
"Over two meters."
"Thank you."
Batman saw the man across from him lift his head and let out a breath, leaning against the wall with one hand, seemingly unsteady. Observing this, Batman spoke:
"Your heartbeat and breathing are normal, and there's no abnormal skin reaction, so this isn't a physical allergic reaction. You might want to see a psychologist."
With that, Batman turned and walked away.
In the theater of the Thought Palace, Bruce raised an eyebrow. Greed, sitting next to him, passed the popcorn bucket towards him and said while smiling:
"Strange, isn't it? You clearly recognized Shiller as a potential serial killer, with a suspicious background, but you simply turned and walked away, not wanting to meddle. This doesn't seem like you."
Bruce turned to gaze at him, seemingly anticipating some profound comment. Greed turned his head back, continuing to watch the scene on the screen, stating, "But this is precisely the skill a seasoned hunter must master."
"Hunting is not a picnic. Before the hunt begins, a hunter should understand what his biggest target of the day is. After he fulfills his target, he should stop, rather than continue to venture deeper solely because he still has bullets in his gun."
"On the way home, if you happen to come across a few rabbits, you might take the opportunity to shoot them. But if you see something similar to your hunting target, or an even more cunning fox, the best approach is to remember their characteristics and whereabouts. Then, when adequately prepared, you return next time."
Jason shivered upon hearing these words, and Greed let out another laugh, inquiring:
"Sounds creepy, doesn't it?"
"Because hunters and prey are different species. The hunter is well aware of this. He knows that no matter how sharp a fox's fangs and claws are, it can never defeat a hunter armed with modern weapons. Backing down isn't a matter of 'if' but 'when'. So why the rush?"
"Long-held grudges will transform into something else." Greed extended a hand and pointed at his own forehead, saying, "A heightened form of scorn and derivation, a genuine coldness. The aloofness and composure that comes with this is entirely different from outrage, impulsivity, and hot-headedness... this is the real Batman."
Bruce silently stared at the Batman on the screen. Batman's movement to turn around was firm, his steps without hesitation. It didn't look anything like a withdrawal.
From Shiller's perspective, the oppressive nature of Batman's silhouette was even more potent.
The Dark Knight, with unparalleled calm and elegance, was reminding the criminals watching him: you're being watched. Every move you make, every word you say, will only hasten the day of your execution, like the ever-present Gotham Night Bell reverberating through each street, each shadowy corner.
"Wait a minute." The voice came from behind Batman, halting his steps,
Followed by his definite query, "... You're not from Gotham?"
"I know, Gotham's criminals have rules. I shouldn't be stopping you now. It's quite the atmosphere killer."
As Batman heard the slightly painful panting intensify, he turned around to look at the man leaning against the wall.
Batman slightly furrowed his brows, apparently gauging whether his previous judgement was off. From the front, this unexpected visitor appeared to be a Gothamite, but he didn't play by the rules.
"It's not that I don't know the rules, I'm just not able to follow them now. So, kindly Batman, could you help me out?"
Batman looked at him silently and said, "As I stated, you should see a psychologist."
"I am a psychologist."
"Inadequately trained?"
Another definitive statement. When Batman saw the man across from him clench his fist slightly, he knew he had found his next hunting weapon.
"Could you do me a favor and take me to a hospital, Batman?"
Hearing the gritting of teeth in the other's voice, Batman didn't pause. He strode forward, supporting the suspicious stranger, propping up one of his arms, and helped him into the car.
"Feeling a bit surprised?" A deep voice sounded from behind Bruce. As he turned, he saw Morbid Shiller, dressed in a dark green striped suit, walking towards him.
The popcorn-holding Greed shrugged and said, "You guys chat. I'll go inquire about Hal's Green Lantern energy."
Bruce remained seated, only turning to look at Morbid Shiller, who had leisurely taken the seat next to him. Morbid Shiller rested his hand on the armrest of the chair, lightly raised a finger, and pointed towards Bruce's collar.
Bruce looked down to see a small piece of popcorn on his collar.
Alarms bells rang in his head a thousand times over, but it still felt like a father reminding his carefree child. A gesture too natural, too intimate, leading to guilt for feeling discourteous if he did not react.
"Sorry, I didn't do it on purpose..." Morbid sighed and began to focus on the screen again, saying, "Let's talk about Batman."