Beihan looked at Bruce with some surprise as Bruce, standing at the top of the descending staircase, beckoned to him.
Beihan pressed gently on his freshly cracked wound, but found that the blood had almost clotted and it wasn't very painful, so he walked over to Bruce.
"You didn't bring your equipment?" Bruce asked.
"I did, but not much, and all the stuff that requires remote control or has communication functions is useless now," Beihan sighed, "There's a special magnetic field on this ship that's interfering with the signals."
"You should learn more from that 'Batman'," Bruce said, "Old-fashioned equipment often comes in handy in situations like this."
Beihan didn't seem to catch the sarcasm in Bruce's words, and seriously said, "I haven't been Batman for long, all the equipment is still being field-tested. It's been enough for use in Gotham City, but obviously, I'm facing more trouble now than ever before."
"Did you make your equipment yourself?"
"Not all of it. I have a team of scientists," Beihan adjusted his collar, "They usually work for Wayne Enterprises but I get along well with them and they help me out occasionally."
"That's good to hear, have you considered finding a sidekick?"
Beihan paused for a moment and looked at Bruce, "From what you say, it seems like you have someone in mind?"
"I have to travel out of town for a while. My other kids are fine but my daughter is too young to go without supervision."
"Oh, how old is your daughter?"
"Almost 7," Bruce said, "You've met her before."
"She seemed younger, but she's pretty cute. I don't have experience with kids, but if you really need it, I will hire a professional nanny team for her."
"No need for that, just someone to look after her will suffice, Alfred would be best. Do you have a girlfriend?"
Beihan uttered an embarrassed "uh" sound, and Bruce turned to look at him, then Beihan suddenly realized and said, "Now is not the time for that, is it? What's the deal with Shiller?"
"What exactly are you asking about?"
"Everything. Why has he lost control? Why is he attacking everyone he sees? And why is he so much stronger than when we last encountered him?"
"You're most interested in the last question, aren't you?"
Beihan nodded.
"Don't worry, let's find a place to sit and talk."
It was then that Beihan realized in the course of their conversation, they had descended two floors down the staff corridor; they had been on the first floor before, but now they were obviously inside the cargo hold below the deck.
Indeed, after leaving the staff corridor, the hallway was much narrower with doors to small rooms on both sides, which seemed to be employee dormitories. As they walked further in and turned a corner, they opened a door to a fairly spacious staff lounge.
To Beihan's surprise, there were already three people there—two black men and a white man, who did not seem like the sort of people Bruce Wayne would know.
"Let me introduce you," Bruce stepped forward, pointed at them and said, "This is Tupac, this is Christopher, and this is Eminem. These two are from the West Coast, and this guy, like me, is from the East Coast."
Beihan was a bit bewildered. East Coast, West Coast, don't people usually introduce others by their state? And what are these three doing? They don't look like fighters to me?
"Uh, nice to meet you." Out of politeness, Beihan still shook hands with each of them.
Bruce spread his arms and said, "As you can see, we've set up a rap club here, just having a small gathering for now. The atmosphere's not bad, right?"
Beihan blinked, then took a deep breath and said,
"You mean, right now, the whole ship's power is out, we can't start the boat, there's a psychotic serial killer wandering above us, hundreds of people are trapped in a cabin on the second floor, drug dealers and Federal Bureau of Investigation agents are on the prowl, and you're down here hiding with three rappers making music?!?"
"There's always time for music," Bruce said as he sat down beside the three, looking at Beihan, "Now we're inviting you to join us, what do you say?"
Beihan covered his eyes.
From his lateral comparisons in Battleworld, Beihan knew that as Batman, he was one of the weaker ones, mainly because his heart wasn't fully in being Batman, most of the time he was still Bruce Wayne.
But this Bruce... how can he be even more out of tune than me? Chaos all around and you sleep, the house is on fire and you're taking photos. Never mind anything else, aren't those trapped on the second floor your tourists from Gotham? No longer interested in tourism, huh?
Beihan voiced his doubts and Bruce sat cross-legged in an armchair, grabbed a pen from Christopher, who was writing lyrics, and said,
"Do you know how much effort we put into gathering this crew on board?"
Beihan squinted his eyes.
Bruce yawned and scratched his head with a pen as he said, "Did you see the fire in the North District on your way to the docks?"
Beihan recalled for a moment and nodded, "I heard from the people here that the area is home to mob bosses. Are they fighting over territory?"
"Fighting over territory doesn't mean burning down your own house." Bruce twirled his pen, leaned in to glance at the lyrics Christopher was writing, and added, "The previous ruckus destroyed the estates of most mob bosses, along with the antiques they had in there. They were counting on selling those off."
"It's obvious that those stubborn bosses who refuse to go legit are now cut off financially."
"Coincidentally, at this time, the Godfather disappears and Cobblepot says someone out of spite has kidnapped the Godfather, demanding a search of their estates. Even former mob bosses who've gone clean and who also rely on the Godfather to bolster their ties with the city government and Wayne Enterprises are shouting their support. Then, the two sides started fighting."
"So, what's this got to do with this ship?"
"How could the obstinate faction ever defeat the Generation Faction? Many of them, due to their stubbornness and stupidity, have weakened their gangs, while the keen, rejuvenated Generation Faction has ample funds from legitimate business. It's a complete rout."
At this point, Beihan understood because he'd thought of the gambling rules on this ship. Those who were desperate or in big trouble could board while the ship was docked. It offered them a temporary escape from their troubles and a chance for a turnaround.
The mob bosses of the obstinate faction were being slaughtered in the North District. Those men wouldn't reflect on whether they'd missed any opportunities leading to their current predicament, they'd merely think their rivals were just luckier and that, given another chance, they could definitely turn things around.
And just then, a gambling ship that claimed to fulfill any wish appeared at the docks of Gotham. Even if they couldn't make money, boarding would guarantee temporary safety. Why wouldn't these frantically fleeing bosses jump at the chance?
Beihan had an epiphany but then frowned again, "But surely not all the regular passengers on this ship are drug dealers, FBI agents, and mob bosses, right?"
"Of course not, it's just that a war broke out inside our cosmos not too long ago between magicians and vampires, with nearly all the vampires annihilated, but some magicians survived."
"The mystic world knows much more about this ship than we do. It's only natural that magicians who've lost their power and can't pay their debts would board."
"But the passengers on this ship can't all be troubled drug dealers, FBI agents, mob bosses, and magicians? Surely there are those who just want to come on board for tourism and entertainment, right?"
"Of course, there are. However, before that, I launched the Gotham architectural renovation project. You know, with all the hands it passes through, the processes and personnel get quite complex. Construction is always seen as a lucrative job."
"It's easy to imagine how many hands are outstretched in the process of nearly leveling and rebuilding half the city's structures. I can turn a blind eye to some asking for a little, but those who are most greedy are holding piles of money."
"With most mob bosses going legit and the rest not big enough to launder their money, what's the lowest-end but actually most accessible method of money laundering that you know of?"
"Gambling," Beihan sighed. "Ten bucks. Three to bribe other horse owners, two for the entry fee to the banker, the remaining five bet on the highest odds, harvesting small investments to wash eight clean, and with some luck, even eleven. Efficiency and ROI are low, but it's easy to do."
Bruce spread his hands and said, "They don't dare bet in the land-based casinos, since I have stakes in those, and they know that most of the mob bosses who are brave enough to run their own betting rings are short on cash and fear being scammed. Finally, a floating gambling ship arrives, and the banker's backing is so substantial that even a three-party coalition can't touch them. If not now, when?"
Beihan then covered his eyes, but still said, "So aside from drug dealers, agents, mob bosses, magicians, and corrupt officials, there has to be normal people on this ship, right?"
"Yeah," Bruce replied. "But you just referred to him as a super serial killer."
Beihan was stunned.
"You mean Shiller???"
Bruce nodded.
Beihan was about to argue but after thinking it over, he realized that if Shiller weren't out of control, he might indeed be the most ordinary person on board, boarding for a plain reason just to accept a challenge, doing the most ordinary things, simply participating in the games, and encountering the most common mishap, getting seasick like a normal person.
The question came full circle.
"Why would Shiller lose control?"
"Because he gets seasick."
"Huh?"
Bruce patted the seat next to him for Beihan to sit and have a detailed chat. Meanwhile, Christopher and Eminem were engrossed in their lyric discussion, clapping to the rhythm, and Tupac fell back into contemplation.
Beihan realized there were only these three good guys on the ship, so what more was there to say? Better to share the joy. Time for music.
He sat down, took the paper and the book from Bruce, and said, "I never expected you to be more into rap. I prefer jazz, know a bit about classical music, and even learned piano from Malati for a while."
Suddenly, Beihan felt the intense gaze of three pairs of eyes upon him. He looked to the side and saw two black and one white intensely focused on him.
Bruce gave Beihan's uninjured shoulder a strong pat, pushing him forward and said.
"See, I told you I've got plenty of talented musicians around here. Now, reconsider joining my label!"