The process of leaving the children's home was indescribable. In any case, by the time Avery returned to the top-floor luxury apartment of Wayne Tower at 1:08 in the afternoon, Bruce was already sitting in the black office chair by the floor-to-ceiling window, fully absorbed in whatever he was looking at on his computer. His nimble fingers continuously tapped the keys at lightning speed, producing a rapid "clack clack" sound.
"You're finally awake. I almost thought you had passed out in bed," Avery remarked.
He had come back around noon, expecting Bruce to be up by then, but to his surprise, Bruce was still asleep. So Avery went back out to investigate a few things.
Honestly, as someone whose need for sleep had never been fully satisfied, he couldn't quite understand some people's habit of staying in bed for too long.
Bruce sat there steadily, unbothered by Avery's sarcastic tone. "I was awake at noon, but by that time you had already gone out. Speaking of which, where did you go?"
Avery placed the newspaper he'd been carrying on the table. "And what are you working on now?"
As he spoke, he walked over to the other side of the desk to look at the computer screen and saw a familiar face—none other than the man who had stolen children last night.
The man had extremely short hair, a wide forehead marked with three deep lines, sparse eyebrows, and eyes that had more visible white than iris. Even through the photograph, his entire demeanor exuded a strong sense of decay and hopelessness. His mouth was downturned, his jaw was broad, and he had a prominent hooked nose. He stood about 1.8 meters tall and looked to be in his thirties—definitely not the kind of person one would find easy to deal with.
In fact, he wasn't a good person at all.
Avery glanced over at Bruce. "You're investigating him now—did you find some hidden clues?"
Bruce looked back at him. "Don't tell me you didn't notice. I interrogated him last night. He played dumb for almost the entire time, but eventually, he cooperated."
As he spoke, he loosened the slightly tight buttons at the collar and wrists of his shirt, giving himself some relief. His clothes had been burned along with everything else, and this outfit wasn't tailored to fit him, so it was clearly a bit uncomfortable.
After that, he turned the computer screen toward Avery.
A series of identity details appeared on the display.
"Hans Cole, thirty-two years old, blood type B. Born in Gotham City's Burnley district. His mother, Lisa Cole, was a textile factory worker, and his father, Blake Cole, worked at a steel plant. Seventeen years ago, Blake's entire right arm was caught in a machine during an accident. Due to negligence by the staff at the scene, he didn't receive timely medical treatment and ultimately died from excessive blood loss."
"After that, Lisa Cole was devastated and developed a lung disease. At its worst, she had to resign from her job to recover at home, which forced Hans Cole, who was still in high school at the time, to drop out and start working to support the family."
"A few years later, Lisa Cole passed away. Hans Cole became a car washer and eventually married a woman named Anna Camorra, enjoying a relatively happy life for a while."
"However, a year later, Anna Camorra, who worked at a convenience store, was caught in a crossfire after her shift and was tragically shot and killed. She was also carrying a baby that was less than three months old at the time."
"After burying his wife, a heartbroken Hans Cole began to spiral into self-destruction. He quickly developed addictions to alcohol and drugs, blowing through all of his savings in no time. And that led us to last night's events."
After reading the information on the computer, Bruce Wayne fell into deep thought. "What I don't understand is why, when Hans Cole hit rock bottom, his first instinct was to resort to child trafficking for profit. No matter how you look at it, there has to be a reason for that."
"From the information, he seems like an ordinary person and has never truly been involved in the darker side of the world. Even if he managed to steal children, where would he have the connections to sell them? Or rather, how did he even learn that such a market existed?"
Hans Cole himself wasn't the main target. Batman was after the hidden human trafficking market or syndicate operating behind the scenes.
Having listened to the entire explanation, Avery couldn't help but comment, "Master Wayne, if one day you slip up and get caught by the Gotham police, and the charges against you don't include violations of privacy and defamation, I'd have to commend you on your impressive evidence-destroying skills."
"If I ever get caught, you'd be my accomplice and end up living in the cell right next to mine," Bruce retorted without missing a beat.
Avery didn't take the remark to heart at all. If that day ever came, there was no way he'd sit quietly in a cell. Live next door? Not a chance.
He chuckled. "So, did you find anything else?"
Bruce replied, "Not yet. I'll need to keep investigating the people around Hans, one by one. I'll be heading out shortly."
As he spoke, Bruce was already thinking of asking Alfred to prepare some new disguise tools for him. His previous makeup kit had clearly been destroyed along with Wayne Manor.
But at that moment, Avery said thoughtfully, "No need. While you were resting, I already went out and investigated."
Bruce paused mid-action. "Seems like you've made some real progress," he said, impressed by Avery's speed and patience—waiting until now to reveal it.
"Care to share?"
Avery hesitated playfully. "I could... but—"
He glanced at the empty space around them, gesturing, "Do you really expect me to stand here and explain everything? This isn't a quick conversation. Honestly, this feels like some sort of punishment."