The Next Day
The following morning, Anton arrived at the Daily Bugle only to find a throng of colleagues gathered at the entrance. He hadn't expected such a crowd and felt a wave of apprehension wash over him.
"Mr. Anton, do you admit what is said on the Internet?" one reporter shouted as he stepped out of his car.
"Are you Batman?" another asked, eyes wide with anticipation.
"Batman's global box office has exceeded 600 million! In the Continental Hotel incident in New York not long ago, a real Batman appeared. Is there a connection between you?" The questions came fast and furious, each one sharper than the last.
Surrounded by the media swarm, Anton felt like he was being cornered. They bombarded him with questions, their voices blending into an overwhelming cacophony.
"Everyone, Batman is just a coincidence," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady despite the tension in the air. He paused, looked at the reporters, and added, "Bruce Wayne is just a character I created; there is no such person in reality. Why does a Batman appear in real life? I can only think that he agrees with all my ideas about Batman."
"Then how do you explain that the killers Batman dealt with at the Continental Hotel actually came to deal with you and the Daily Bugle?" one reporter pressed, not backing down.
The intensity of the questioning grew, with reporters eager for any slip of the tongue. "Also, why did you just arrive in San Francisco, only to have Batman show up there as well? He personally sent the founder of the Life Foundation, Carlton Drake, to the police…" another interjected.
"Mr. Anton, can you explain it?" they demanded, the camera flashes capturing every moment of his discomfort.
"This is just a coincidence," Anton repeated firmly. "Coincidentally, no matter how you explain it, it's hard to tell." He knew he was treading dangerous waters and didn't want to provide them with any more fodder.
After delivering those words, he pushed through the crowd and entered the Daily Bugle building, finally escaping the relentless barrage of questions.
Once inside, he spotted Betty, who was clearly amused by his earlier predicament. "Anton, that was the most embarrassing way I have ever seen you," she teased, a playful smile on her lips.
"If you could pour me a cup of coffee, I would be very grateful," Anton said, his mind still reeling from the encounter. He glanced back towards the entrance, feeling a headache coming on from the thought of the reporters lingering just outside.
He had underestimated Batman's influence, and it was becoming increasingly clear. Currently, in the system space, Batman's fan value had exceeded an astounding 14 million. This was a staggering figure, especially when considering he had previously spent 9.98 million on the master template of Batman.
If the 14 million fan value could be converted into a template for other heroes, he might not be far from the goal of creating another identity. The fan value wasn't just a number; it had real potential.
Whenever he fought opponents as Batman, the armor and equipment would sustain damage, meaning the fan value would be crucial at that time. Of course, at present, 14 million was a significant amount, and it was still increasing.
"Although I anticipated that Batman's identity would become a well-known secret, I did not expect this day to arrive so soon!" Anton rubbed his temples, trying to process the whirlwind of events.
Online public opinion suggested that as many as 80% of people believed he was Batman. However, there were still those who vehemently denied it. The best way to refute a claim, he reasoned, was to sever the connection between the fact and its implications.
The primary evidence supporting the belief that he was Batman revolved around two key points: Batman's deep ties to the Daily Bugle and his uncanny timing in appearing wherever Anton was. These two facts provided fertile ground for speculation and reasoning.
To eliminate the connection, the first point was easy to handle—he could continue to deny any association. However, the second point required more finesse.
Suddenly, an idea struck him. Jim scheduled to host a party in Los Angeles in just a few days, and the media would surely be watching. If Batman were to make an appearance at the same time, Anton could effectively distance himself from the character.
It was the perfect opportunity to "disconnect" from Batman publicly.
To achieve this effect, he would need a "prop" or a special suit. With his current justice value, he could easily afford the armor. He touched his chin thoughtfully, realizing that he needed to act decisively.
Unlike Tony Stark, who openly declared himself Iron Man, Anton preferred to stay out of the limelight—for now, at least.
This was a temporary arrangement; with the rapid growth of the DC company he had established, he understood that the more heroes emerged, the less he could remain hidden.
Like fireflies illuminating the night, the attention would inevitably shift toward him. But until he was fully prepared, he didn't want to expose his identity to the public.
Maintaining his identity as Batman within a limited circle seemed like the best way to avoid trouble. Anton admitted to himself that he feared nothing more than unnecessary complications.
As the workday drew to a close, he asked Betty to check if there were any reporters lingering at the entrance before he left the office. He was determined to avoid being cornered again.
There's a saying that reporters are the only creatures more annoying than flies, and Anton now fully understood that sentiment.
Once he was given the all-clear, he cautiously made his way out of the building, keeping an eye out for any lurking journalists. Soon, as he opened the car door, he was taken aback by the sight of a short-haired woman seated inside.
After a brief moment of surprise, he composed himself and slid into the back seat next to her.
"High Table person?" he asked, curious about the woman's identity.
"Yes, I am the adjudicator of the High Table," she replied, introducing herself. "Aisha Kate; you can call me Aisha."
Anton's tone remained calm, but he could feel a hint of impatience creeping in. "I hope we can clarify things in the shortest possible time."
"Of course," Aisha agreed. "I came to see you today not only to express apologies but primarily to discuss one request."
"A request?" Anton's interest piqued, though skepticism laced his voice. "If it's an unreasonable demand, you can leave my car now."
"It's not so much a request but a proposal for cooperation," Aisha explained.
"What kind of cooperation?" Anton's frown deepened. He had a feeling that the High Table was being overly cryptic in their approach.
Aisha paused before continuing. "We want to ask you to kill someone."
"What?" Anton was taken aback. "The High Table itself is a top killer organization. If you can't handle it, why do you think I can?"
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