Batman was enduring the longest of days.
Later that day, Batman managed to complete Wayne Enterprises business as quickly as possible. His meticulous personality had him examining all the business conditions over the past three months, adjusting numerous details. Although his efficiency was at an all-time high, by the time he had finished, it was already late into when night ight.
A light was left on for him in Wayne Manor. But when he stepped into the hall, he saw a sight he had never seen before.
If Batman had to describe this scene, his artistic sensibility, not inferior to a human's, would call it "lively remains" or "warm ruins".
The fire in the fireplace had gradually died off. As the blackened logs lost their final glow, and ashes rose up the chimney, their shadows cast on the sofa by the faint firelight resembled a swarm of jellyfish ascending in the faint light of the deep sea.
There was a noticeable dent on the fabric sofa. This detail, perceived through Batman's instinctual detective sight, revealed to him the familiar figures that sat around the fireplace; his Robins, Damian, a few other children, and Bruce seated on the sofa opposite the fireplace.
In the intermittent firelight, they were leaning forward, engrossed in the drawings on the coffee table. As Batman approached, he saw several slender white hands, belonging to teenagers or immature children, expressing themselves on the paper.
Now the people had left. Only the densely drawn football formations on the paper lying on the coffee table told the story of the lively discussion that had taken place around an hour ago here.
Porcelain cup and saucer were set separately; on it, the traces of spilled water suggested hastily consumed sips, implying the urgency to speak the next word.
Biscuits crumbs scattered from the edge of the coffee table to the floor, indicating eating while watching. Of course, hands with leftovers were also used to grab the paper and nudge the person next to them.
Many footprints were left in front of the coffee table, indicating the constant leaning forward, the serious listening, and the intense discussions. Two older boys twisted and turned on a single sofa, only to view the tactical formation drawn by them from the best angle.
At this moment, it was silent here. Batman felt himself being surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his imagination, just like every time he stepped into the deepest darkness before dawn and returned to the Batcave. He sees the traces left by the birds' all-night activity in their nests.
Usually, that would be more fragmented, like scattered sparks. But this time someone had gathered them together. So, the crackling sound of the burning firewood was deafening in Batman's imagination.
"They had a great time." the voice of Alfred came from behind Batman. He brought a cup of hot tea for Batman and said, "They stayed up till eleven o'clock. No one was able to convince the other. So, they plan to host a mock football match on the lawn in the garden tomorrow."
The moment Batman reached for the teacup, his fingers hesitated. He lowered his eyes to blow the steam off the tea and asked, "Do they have enough people?"
"Of course not, but Dick has decided to invite his classmates. He made some friends in his high school summer camp, and also the classmates from his ballet class."
"In the garden?"
"Yes, the east-side lawn. I will clean it up in the early morning tomorrow. Sir Thomas said they will come back early in the morning and we will still have breakfast together."
"This is good, Alfred."
Batman nodded. His expression was somewhat inexplicable, not often seen by even Alfred who knows Batman best.
Maybe it was... envy?
Alfred knows best when Batman would let go of his seriousness. He had seen more than once the Batman, slightly tired, returning at dawn, throwing himself onto the sofa like a normal human, sipping hot tea, observing everything in the Batcave.
Alfred knew he was not looking at those equipments or furniture, or even the astonishing collection in the Batcave. It was as if the bat's inaudible-to-humans sound waves let him see what humans could not.
Perhaps to Batman, time was not necessarily continuous. His amazing observation ability allowed him to see every detail of the Robins' activities in the Batcave, and his extraordinary brain, which had already grown beyond human capacity, could turn all the traces into real scenes to replay around him.
In this way, he seemed to be immersed in this bustling environment, weaving through the flock of birds, squeezing past the fluffy feathers, the bright and smooth young beaks, and slept until dawn.
But the inclusion of a younger version of himself in such fantasy would inevitably surprise Batman that he could still scrape a bit of humanity out of the solid rock wall he had forged for himself. He experienced a peculiar sense of jealousy.
In the past, such bustle was only prepared for him, because only he could see it. only he could imagine it. only he could remember it.
Even these birds are no exception, they treat each day here as an ordinary day, not something to dwell on, let alone to remember deeply, because they are creators, they have it from the moment of creation.
But Batman observes and collects it later, so he selects carefully, repeatedly constructs, and finally preserves with caution.
He can't have it because if he joined it at that moment, these lively and warm creators would scatter and flee due to tension and fear.
Batman understands the cause of this situation more than anyone. It is he who chooses to make himself a symbol of fear. Fear is an extreme emotion, there is no room for being at ease, either you can deter everyone or you can't deter anyone.
So he chooses to stay away, to observe, collect, and reconstruct, to enjoy the lively and warm family atmosphere in a field that is more psychiatry than social engineering, he thinks this is good for them.
But now there is a bat like this, Batman can't even say he is a bat, he looks exactly like a bird.
Even without showing disrespect, Batman could only say that this guy is more like Nightwing when he is not at odds with him, he sneaked into the flock of birds like this, creating and enjoying the excitement with them.
He didn't even swoop through at a high speed like a thief, or sneak in stealthily, he just swaggered in and slammed into the bird's nest with his wings spread wide open, making a bigger noise than even a robin or cuckoo, like the praise leader who leads the birds in singing in fairy tales.
Batman looked up, he saw Bruce standing quietly in front of the atrium on the second floor, one hand on the railing, the other hanging at his side - sorry, Batman could only think so, if Bruce didn't laugh, he wouldn't be able to tell Bruce from Nightwing at first glance.
Bruce smiled, but Batman thought he might as well not smile. Now couldn't he tell him from the Joker?
"Our conversation is enjoyable." Bruce leaned forward, forearms stacked together on the railing, smiling at Batman: "We decided to have a friendly game tomorrow morning, right after breakfast, to be precise. I decided to name it the 'first Wayne Cup'."
"Of course, there will be a Wayne to referee, we only need one, I think it should be Thomas, what do you think?"
Batman looked up at him quietly, then opened his mouth after a while and said: "You are me, we both know what kind of person we are, disregarding the tragedies that have already turned your life upside down, do you think you can never give yourself away?"
Bruce's smile faded a bit, the moonlight coming in through the long gothic windows on both sides of the atrium just fell on both sides of his body, like a pair of narrow elongated wings spread out.
"Anti-social personality, manipulative tendencies, psychopath, we both know there's no essential difference between us and that madman."
Bruce extended one hand, the thumb and index finger of one hand making a shape of a gun. He pointed at his own head with the index finger and said: "We are the madmen we hate. You chose to turn your will and wisdom into the roughest iron chain, firmly locking up those mad parts, only wanting the advantages brought by high function."
"And you chose to become one with them," Batman's low voice echoed in the hall: "You accepted them, utilized them freely, like those madmen, enjoyed manipulating and mentally abusing others by attracting their attention without considering means."
Batman stared directly into Bruce's eyes and said, "You're not really interested in soccer, and you don't care about their adulation and enjoyment of excitement. What really excites you is going against me, taking something from me, this is the most typical behavior of a psychopath."
The smile on Bruce's face disappeared completely, leaving a somewhat cold expression. He walked down from the second floor in his slippers, hugging his arms and clicking his heels.
As his footsteps crossed the light cast by one window after another, he seemed to be descending from the stairs of heaven, sinking from light into darkness.
Until he stood in front of Batman, Batman could see through his blue eyes a figure of him with blood-colored pupils standing inside this body.
They were completely one, this was the worst news Batman had heard recently.
It's not that Joker and Batman became one, but Batman's own sanity and madness, indifference and excitement, darkness and light, imagination and logic, absurdity and reality - all that constitute the tragedies and comedies in Batman's life, completely merged into one.
He was no longer a knight bound by a creed, but a lunatic accepting reality, no longer an embodiment of any extreme emotion, but an ordinary person who had completely reconciled with himself.
The time it took him to make this change was not long, Batman could tell that this was not exactly the same Bruce he had seen in the Tower of Thought by Shiller. He must have been in a state of silence for a while, completing the spiritual integration and transformation.
Brilliant, Batman could only comment like this.
But Bruce was obviously more brilliant than he thought, because the next morning, he got up and made breakfast.