Diana quickly ushered Clark away, seemingly unwilling to get involved in this family melodrama.
"I went to see Professor Shearer today, hoping to transfer back to the psychology department, but unfortunately, he no longer teaches at Gotham University."
Bruce explained to Thomas, but Thomas glared at him coldly, his voice filled with rage: "What I'm talking about is, how could you have allowed yourself to be expelled in the first place? Bruce, even though Martha and I may have neglected your education over the years, don't you have even the most basic sense of decency?"
"In my day, only students who had committed severe errors, including but not limited to engaging in serious crimes such as murder, rape, and kidnapping, would be expelled by their university professors. What on earth did you do?!"
Bruce opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the words. Thomas took a deep breath, looked into Bruce's eyes and said, "You'd better not expect anyone else to take responsibility for your actions. Sort things out with your professor, within a week at the most, make this incident as though it never happened. Or else I'll make sure you regret it!"
"My university academic record also..." Bruce raised his voice to argue, but Thomas cut him off halfway through the sentence and stepped forward, asserting his dominance.
"Bruce!"
"I don't want to talk about this!"
"Then let's talk about your Lamborghini tractor! What kind of land makes you personally need to farm with a Lamborghini tractor?!"
"I..."
Bruce instinctively wanted to explain, but he suddenly lowered his head, repeating in a confused tone: "Lamborghini... tractor???"
"Enough said." Thomas slapped the back of the sofa in frustration. "Dick's head of year told me, you've transferred him to six different schools in one year and not once have you visited his dormitory. There were three parent meetings in a year, and you missed one."
"Jason's football coach approached you twice, but you completely forgot about Jason's sports talent which he mentioned, and even missed the opportunity to register him for the youth football club this season."
"You also didn't attend the father-son surfing event held by Tim's father last weekend. He doesn't know more than ten peers, let alone forgetting about a series of detective books he wanted for the Wayne Manor library. It was Constantine who bought them for him."
"And Elsa. I went to her kindergarten last week and found out that you hadn't met her sensory training teacher! She had to call Selina, who's in Los Angeles, to find out that Elsa is starting primary school next year."
"Bruce Wayne!" Thomas called out Bruce's full name again, looking into his eyes, saying: "Did Martha and I raise you so carelessly? None of these children have joined more than two clubs, haven't learned etiquette, don't know how to socialize, and wander around Wayne Manor all day!"
"They should be going to astronomy club with kids their age to stargaze, playing football on weekends, hosting reading groups, taking care of ponies at the stables, or simply playing video games together at the very least!"
"Dick has been living a monotonous life like this for years, simply alternating between school and homework. He's already in middle school and hasn't even been to a summer camp!"
"No child of the Wayne family should suffer such neglect! I can't even describe how disappointed I am in you!"
Bruce opened his mouth to speak again, clenched his fists and raised his voice: "But I can't possibly revolve my life around these things. I have more important things to do! I will make this city better!"
Thomas crossed his arms and scoffed: "As if you've done well in other aspects by not spending time on these things over the past few years! How did you get expelled by your professor then?"
"I'm an adult now, I don't need you to tell me what I should and shouldn't do!" Bruce clutched the back of the sofa: "Stop meddling in my business!"
Thomas's face turned dark immediately. He took a deep breath and said: "Fine, you think I enjoy meddling in your affairs? The best scenario is you being able to handle yourself --- just don't use my hard-earned money!"
"I will freeze all your bank cards. Alfred, pack up Master Wayne's belongings!"
After saying this, he slapped the back of the sofa forcefully, casting a cold glance at Bruce before heading upstairs. Bruce stood still in shock, seemingly unable to believe that even in his twenties, his family would still restrict his expenditures.
Alfred walked up and patted Bruce's back: "In order to maintain the status of Wayne Enterprises and cover the company's deficit, Lord Wayne has been working overtime for three consecutive days. Work fatigue might have made him a bit irritable."
"Also, he does have a point. Miss Elsa will start primary school next year. Have you chosen a good school for her yet?"
"I don't want to deal with these things!" Bruce waved his hand irritably, avoiding Alfred's attempt to help him with his coat, and headed towards the basement door, stating: "I'm going to the basement to conduct experiments now. Nobody disturb me."
After he finished speaking, he rushed into the basement and shut the door behind him forcefully. Tim, watching his retreating figure, squinted and turned towards the garden.
Bruce, having reached the basement, stared at the sparse equipment in the empty basement, baffled. He walked towards the nearest filing cabinet, beginning to search through the contents.
In the first drawer was a stack of blank papers, in the second were some documents with writing, mostly maintenance instructions for lathe components. The third contained some common tools, and the fourth had handwritten notes - discarded drafts of psychology research papers.
When he checked the shelves, apart from the dusty small parts, there were several spare Batmobile tires, a Batmobile hood, all sorts of waders and gumboots, and a pile of plastic bags.
In one corner of the basement, covered by camouflage cloth, was a pile of weapons, but most were commonly found firearms, not even fully stocked with bullets. In another corner lay brightly painted parts of a children's slide with two rows of tooth marks on it.
Bruce moved to the machine side, turned it on, and found it to be basic machining equipment. The machine had no abnormalities when it was turned on, but from the sound of the gears grinding, you could tell it had not been used for a long time and lacking lubricating oil. Without proper maintenance, the parts would definitely wear out.
Apart from this, the entire basement was empty. As Bruce stood in the middle of the basement, surveying the surroundings with a tight-lipped displeasure, the basement door swiftly opened. Alfred brought in hot tea, but Bruce interrupted and asked, "Where's the Batmobile? I need to go out."
"It's in the backyard."
Before Alfred could finish his sentence, Bruce had already sprinted up the stairs straight into the backyard. Then, everything clicked, and he understood what all those Batmobile parts in the basement were for.
The Batmobile parked in the backyard only had two tires. The left front and right rear ones had disappeared without a trace. The front hood had vanished, exposing the complex machinery underneath to the rain. A wrench and screwdriver lay scattered on the side.
Walking over, Bruce noticed further damages. The front bumper seemed to have suffered a collision, as it was completely tilted. And a large chunk of the vehicle's rear end was missing. Even considering Gotham's traffic condition, this wasn't a car you could take out on the road.
As Bruce reached out to tug at the car door, a strong electric pulse surged out, and a shout drifted from behind the trees, "Hey, Bruce, what are you doing? You forgot about the security system you installed on the door, didn't you?"
Jason emerged from behind a tree, with Harley trailing behind him. As they attempted to pass Bruce, he grabbed Jason's shoulder and asked,"Where are the other cars?"
"What other cars?" Jason asked with a bewildered look on his face.
"Are you saying the only car in Wayne Manor is this one? I mean, I might have too many cars that I've forgotten where I parked them all."
"Too many cars?" Jason blinked at this, looking at Bruce, "You don't remember selling off all your luxury cars? The buyer was disappointed because some models were unique worldwide, but you sold them all off anyway."
"See, I knew this rich man would regret it," Harley commented to Jason. "He should have kept that pink 'Crystal Shoe' one. It was so cool. I didn't even get a chance to ride in it before he sold it!"
"So, I'm without a car now?" Bruce's voice held a hint of anger. Jason, however, casually shrugged and said, "You could hail a taxi, or ask that truck driver to pick you up. After all, you're heading to the East District this late, aren't you?"
Steven furrowed his brow. "Why would I go to the East District? I need to go to the Batcave on the outskirts. I have an experiment to work on."
"But, you can't even get into the Batcave right now. Doesn't it have a curfew or … a paper lock?" Harley checked her wristwatch and pointed out.
Jason burst into laughter at this. Harley glared at him asking, "What are you laughing at?"
"Reminds me of how someone hasn't finished their language arts homework. Want me to read out the essay you wrote last week that the literature teacher dubbed a literary masterpiece of Gotham?"
"Jason! We agreed never to speak of that!" Harley screamed.
Disappearing in their playful banter, Bruce stood in the yard, feeling utterly bewildered. Suddenly a gust of wind swept overhead, and Dick, dressed in alternating blue-black, landed gracefully in front of him.
"Finished my homework. Fancy a ride?" he asked.
"I need a car right now!" Bruce restrained his temper and stressed to Dick, "I need a car to go where I want, and I have no time to play house with anyone!"
"There's indeed no car available in Wayne Manor at the moment." Dick shrugged,"Alright, I'll call a taxi. So, are you still going to the East District tonight or not?"
"What's in the East District?" asked a baffled Bruce.
"Nothing much. Just that the truck driver and Big Crocodile often invite you for barbeque and cards. If you're still going tonight, remember the usual - ten beef tendons with extra pepper, and a portion of lamb chops from the blue wave packaged shop. Their ribs have no fat. I don't want to gain weight."
With that, Dick walked past Bruce, entered the hall to place the call. A while later, a taxi parked in front of the Wayne Manor. Bruce got in, just as he shut the door, the driver enthusiastically asked, "Where to, sir?"
Bruce relayed his destination calmly and thereafter remained silent. The driver, on the other hand, continued chattering about all sorts of news from Gotham. But Bruce paid little attention. Upon reaching his destination, he tipped the driver and stepped out.
Bruce found the entrance to the Batcave. A voice came from behind the door, "Password".
"Go write your paper!"
"Access denied during this time."
"...what time is allowed then?"
"Password."
"Go write your paper!"
"Access denied during this time."
"At what time does he not write the paper?!"