Chapter 53: Theft is Not a Good Habit
A bird of prey had entered the gloomy forest known as Gotham.
Bruce Wayne wanted to know the other party's identity.
But the button was pressed.
The screen displayed the words "No Information" in stark red.
In front of the computer screen, over a hundred inches wide, Bruce frowned.
"No prior convictions, no driver's license, no consumption records, no entry records..."
Either this person had lived in a primeval forest since birth, or, like him, they were using a fake identity.
...
Holding an umbrella and walking on the bustling streets of Gotham, David touched his face.
With his superior vision, he noticed the pinhole camera on Batman's chest but paid it no mind.
His face was his real face.
Although it had been slightly altered compared to before.
"A person's face has over forty muscles, divided into facial expression muscles and jaw muscles."
Facial muscles, along with blood vessels and nerves, were intertwined with cartilage and bones, with smooth skin adhering to the muscles. These tissues were interconnected and interacted with each other, allowing for various movements and expressions.
"Few people can control these; exceptionally talented performers can control more facial muscles, making their faces slightly stiff and presenting a subtly different appearance, imitating others, but they can't achieve control over all of them."
It was impossible for ordinary people to do such a thing, but he happened to be no ordinary person, not even entirely human.
As a variant of Thanos's Eternals, he possessed the ability to precisely control his entire body's muscles at will. This could be used for practicing combat, controlling strength, or altering his facial appearance.
"Thanos probably never used this ability.
Firstly, the Dark Lord likely disdained hiding himself, and there were better means of concealment, such as magic and technology.
Even his two to three meter tall body and distinctive purple potato head were impossible to hide."
Passing by a street, he caught sight of a set of high-voltage power lines.
David remembered Avery's arrival in Gotham.
As the future Superman, he didn't believe Clark would easily lose his powers permanently.
Furthermore, Superman's abilities came from his genes, from his very being as Clark Kent, and it was likely not that easy to take them away.
"If I can capture Avery and recreate the accident, perhaps his powers can return to Clark, meaning Kryptonite amplified by a strong electric current."
If that didn't work, he could try to attract lightning on a rainy day.
But the prerequisite for all of this was to first find Avery in Gotham and bring him back.
A thoughtful expression flickered in his eyes.
"I should find a couple of local informants first to ask about recent news in Gotham?"
Bang!
Not far ahead, a hurried figure collided head-on with a woman walking with an air of arrogance, carrying a designer handbag.
"Sorry."
The girl with beautiful brown hair was walking in a hurry, as if she had something urgent. She muttered an apology with her head down, then quickly turned and disappeared around the street corner.
The woman cursed a few times and continued forward without giving it further thought.
David's eyebrows twitched, but he noticed that the sapphire ring on the woman's hand was gone.
First witnessing a robbery, and then encountering a theft without even walking a block, it wasn't entirely strange, especially in Gotham with its "simple folk."
But the instantaneous theft of a ring from someone's hand during that brief collision, without anyone noticing, showed an unusual level of skill.
His expression held a hint of surprise.
As a thief, it was difficult not to interact with various social strata, especially needing some special channels for fencing stolen goods, making them good local informants.
"A good candidate to gather information."
...
"Young master, I don't know if you remember, but above this cave is Wayne Manor."
An elderly man with graying hair, dressed impeccably in a butler's uniform, his eyes carrying the vicissitudes and wisdom of years, approached slowly with a glass of iced coffee on a silver tray.
"Of course, Alfred."
Taking the coffee, Bruce Wayne took a sip and continued operating the computer.
"How could I forget something so simple?"
"But ever since you returned, you've been hiding in this Batcave. You've hardly gone up to the manor, which is so close by."
A hint of helplessness flickered in Alfred's eyes.
"I have many things to do, Alfred."
"Many pressing matters."
A computer intrusion downloaded the withdrawal records from Gotham National Bank, searching for any clues. The results showed that the card used belonged to a subordinate of a small Gotham gangster boss, and that boss had been dead for over a year.
Bruce Wayne frowned.
He glanced at the death records: his neck was snapped, and the body was found in the gang's temporary hideout, along with over a dozen other gang members.
Some had died from severe head trauma.
"The Hyena Gang?
A few members survived, but they became vegetables."
In the same time period, dozens of gang members across Gotham died from severe head trauma, and seven or eight suffered brain damage and became vegetative.
Beyond that, nothing else could be found. The current leads seemed to have run dry.
"Young master, I understand how you feel.
But you're too impatient, and I'm a little worried."
Seeing his young master's slightly displeased expression, Alfred bowed slightly and offered his advice.
"In 1840, your ancestor, Solomon Wayne, invested in and established Gotham's current industrial and commercial districts, giving rise to Gotham's prosperity.
But you must know, these things weren't accomplished in a single day."
"Rome wasn't built in a day, I know, Alfred."
Rubbing his temples, Bruce Wayne confided in the old man who had raised him.
"I've been through near-death trials, and the hellish training I received was enough to drive many people mad. I once thought I was ready.
But when I returned to Gotham, I realized I was still lacking many things."
"Infiltration, sabotage, assassination, and blending in, investigation, protection – they're all vastly different."
He stood up and walked to the workbench, using tools to sharpen his batarangs, the sparks reflecting in his pupils.
"Alfred, I have advanced technology, powerful weapons, but some things cannot be replaced by technology.
I need to be more precise, stronger, faster..."
Like a bat in the night, appearing and disappearing without a trace, precisely preying on its target, striking true, cold and efficient, never making a mistake!
"I must interrupt you, young master."
Alfred shook his head.
"I don't know how long it will take you to achieve these things, but you'd best protect what you already have first."
"What do you mean?" He stopped his actions, turned his head, a look of confusion on his face.
"If you continue like this, the top-secret technology from Wayne Enterprises' R&D department and your powerful weapons might be taken from you."
Alfred didn't want to see the child he watched grow up pushing himself so hard, not giving himself any breathing room for the sake of the city.
"Then you won't have any cool, advanced Batmobiles or Bat-suits to play with."
And there were indeed more pressing matters now.
Bruce Wayne's eyes showed a hint of inquiry.
"William Earl has been managing and controlling your family business for many years. After you disappeared, some of his actions gradually became out of line.
Recently, as the chairman of the board, he's been lobbying other directors to take your family business, Wayne Enterprises, public."
Listening to Alfred's account, Bruce Wayne's face darkened.
For ordinary companies, going public might bring various benefits, but for Wayne Enterprises, which had coexisted with Gotham for nearly two hundred years, those benefits were insignificant.
There was only one point: once the company went public, changes in stock ownership would become very easy. For example, diluting the shares held by a certain missing member of the Wayne family and kicking him off the Wayne Enterprises board of directors.
"You're right, Alfred.
Perhaps it's time Gotham knew that the son of Wayne has returned."
The sharp batarang flew over ten meters, hitting the bullseye precisely. His gaze was focused as he said slowly.
...
Winding through narrow, unpaved alleys.
A young girl in tight black denim jeans and a blue-striped women's shirt, her loose brown hair covering her fair, swan-like neck, her bright, intelligent eyes like jewels hidden behind unfashionable square-rimmed glasses.
Her attire made her look like a studious, unsociable female student from college; no one would be wary of such a bookworm.
She first tucked the casually stolen wallet into her waist bag, then put on the jewelry, her eyes shining as she admired the sapphire ring she had just stolen.
"A standard star sapphire, its quality ranks in the top ten or so among my collection."
Pushing up her glasses, a flicker of joy crossed Selina's eyes.
Today seemed to be her lucky day; just walking down the street, she managed to find a beautiful sapphire ring.
"Stealing isn't a good habit."
A young, magnetic voice came from behind her without warning.
She immediately became like a startled cat, nimbly hiding the ring and turning to look.
"Who?"
[Tension from Selina Kyle +18...]
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