Chapter 76: Batman is a Psychopath
"The reality is that in most cases we still have to rely on force to ensure that others give us the opportunity to use our brains."
Chuck made his move and said, "Spencer, we only have the choice of whether we want to or not, not whether we can or not."
"But I really want to but I can't."
Reid smiled bitterly: "I've tried many times."
"That means you don't want it enough."
Chuck looked at him: "You said we're the same kind of people, and we are, but I work harder than you, because if I don't work hard to stay in shape, I can't even sit here and have a normal conversation.
You can live a normal life without that extra step, so you don't have such an urgent need in your subconscious mind, and you can't push yourself to the level of training I do."
"That's probably true."
Reid thought about it and nodded in agreement.
"You have a powerful brain and imagination. Next time you go for firearms practice, imagine this scenario,"
Chuck said. "You're in the BAU, constantly encountering dangerous criminals. When your teammates are down, you're the only one who can save them and yourself and bring the perpetrators to justice.
But because you can't pass your firearms qualification, you're powerless, helpless, and can only watch as tragedy unfolds before your eyes.
You should understand that the criminals you face are essentially psychopaths. Imagine the torture worse than death that your teammates and you will endure because you refuse to push yourself harder.
If these images don't motivate you to train harder, then I suggest you leave the BAU and return to academia to become a pure researcher. This is likely what you'll face in the future—for your own good and for the good of your teammates."
Reid's mind flooded with images, his face going pale.
He was known as the FBI's walking criminal database, and those horrific crime scenes were burned into his eidetic memory. Even trying to match them to Chuck's descriptions was more than he could bear.
His gift of perfect recall and hyper-intelligent mind, like a recurring nightmare, now became a burden.
Gideon watched his protégé's face pale at Chuck's words, narrowed his eyes, and said nothing.
He knew Chuck was right; a little pressure on Reid would help him grow.
In their line of work, besides talent and ability, the most important thing was psychological resilience. While bearing witness to victims' suffering, one also had to endure the crushing pressure of potentially becoming a victim themselves. Failure to develop that resilience would inevitably lead to departure, either voluntary or forced.
"Batman is a fascinating character," Gideon gazed down at the chessboard for a moment.
Without rushing to make his move, he looked up at Chuck and smiled. "Batman is a billionaire playboy by day, but by night he transforms into the Dark Knight. Dr. Wolfe, what's your take on him?"
"He's a psychopath,"
Chuck said, studying the chessboard while casually offering his assessment of Batman.
He knew Gideon was probably having one of his profiling moments, wanting to understand him better.
He didn't mind.
"Oh?"
Gideon looked at Chuck with interest, waiting for elaboration.
"During the day he's Bruce Wayne. With the resources and influence he possesses, he could accomplish things that Batman never could if he wanted to, and truly change Gotham City from the ground up."
Chuck said, "But he doesn't want to do that. Instead, he transforms into Batman at night to fight criminals personally. The criminals get hurt but not killed. The more he beats them, the more there are. The more he arrests and imprisons them, the more twisted they become. They escape from prison regularly, bringing greater suffering to Gotham's citizens.
Can't Batman figure this out with his supposed genius-level intellect?
Of course he can.
So why doesn't he change his approach?
Batman's greatest assets—the Batsuit, Batmobile, Batwing and other high-tech equipment—all depend on Bruce Wayne's fortune.
So, ultimately, there is no Batman. There's just a psychopath named Bruce Wayne, who uses his wealth to enjoy ultimate luxury in the daylight and a thrilling, dark existence at night. He's no different from those wealthy elites who attend underground fight clubs, like modern versions of Roman gladiator spectacles, dropping their civilized masks, contorting their faces, and roaring with bloodlust as they watch the violence unfold.
It's just that he's rich and indulgent enough to expand these small-scale underground fights to encompass all of Gotham City. He uses his fortune to hire professional trainers, spend millions on equipment, and then personally terrorize ordinary people."
"..."
Reid opened his mouth, speechless.
He hadn't expected Chuck to view Batman that way. Did that mean his earlier comment about Chuck resembling Batman wasn't actually a compliment?
"There's a thin line between genius and madness."
Chuck looked up at Reid. "We're all geniuses, with a touch of mental instability. It's normal."
In the world of crime fighting, you couldn't be called a genius without a few quirks, and you couldn't be called a super genius without some psychological issues.
Reid was instantly relieved, his smile returning.
This was why he respected and admired Chuck; they were cut from the same cloth.
His biggest fear was that his mother had paranoid schizophrenia, a hereditary condition, and he often worried he might develop it too.
But when Chuck spoke, he was able to address it openly and face it head-on. Being around Chuck was truly liberating.
Monica's apartment.
"Please, could you stop grinning like that?"
her best friend Rachel complained enviously. "Did you forget to take your toothbrush out after brushing?"
"Are you sure it's your toothbrush?"
Chandler quipped, as usual.
"Shut up!"
Monica, disliking the suggestive joke, pointed at Chandler, but she was so happy that her smile remained plastered across her face.
"Is that really necessary?"
Ross rolled his eyes.
"You don't understand,"
Monica replied, still unable to control her smile, glancing at her phone on the table.
"He hasn't called you yet?"
Phoebe asked with obvious curiosity.
"No."
Monica tried to act nonchalant.
"It seems like you're very satisfied with him, but he might not be satisfied with you."
The lothario Joey flashed a knowing smile.
He'd been in this situation many times before.
"Don't compare Chuck to you!"
Monica glared at him: "He's not that kind of guy!"
"Hey!"
Joey protested indignantly: "All the women who've been with me graduated from the Joey Tribbiani school of romance. They learned a lot, okay!"
"Don't worry, he'll call you."
Phoebe reassured her: "By the way, are you sure everything's okay with you?"
"Yes..."
Monica nodded quickly, then seemed to think of something and hesitated.
"What's wrong?"
Phoebe asked immediately.
"Nothing..."
Monica shook her head, seeming reluctant to speak.
"You can tell me in private."
Phoebe glanced at the three guys and came over with a smile.
"And me!"
Her best friend Rachel wasn't about to miss out on this gossip.
"How can I be left out?"
Chandler also moved closer with mock seriousness.
The three girls: "..."
(End of Chapter)
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