Chapter 88: Batman’s Night Raid [please Follow-up Read]
Night had already fallen thick.
Ian’s nib was still dancing madly on the paper. He was diligently drawing a comic about the origin of the Sentry. The awakened writer’s profession made the youth feel that his drawing skills had become even more exquisite.
“As expected of me, and my pendant system.” Ian deeply understood Ying Xue’s true essence, knowing that all the credit should be attributed to himself. Due to awakening a new profession, he felt his thinking was exceptionally clear.
【Writer】 This unexpected ordinary profession allowed Ian to recall the story’s plot more clearly, and when he picked up the pen, it was as if countless inspirations surged forth.
However, Ian didn’t dare to improvise freely with this comic. When drawing the black robe, he couldn’t quite control himself, adding quite a few details that he believed far surpassed the original work.
“Sometimes being too talented is also a troubling thing. This drawing skill, this paneling—Marvel would kneel upon seeing it, exclaiming that it’s full of the kindness I bestowed.”
Ian licked the corner of his mouth and casually wiped off the ink pigment that had splashed onto his face.
The dirty paper was naturally stuffed into the trash can.
“I…”
The box was opened, then closed. The demon head didn’t have time to say anything before it tasted the toilet paper—fortunately, it only contained the flavor of pigment and nothing else.
Ian’s hand speed rivaled a humanoid printer.
Living person printing technique.
Pages of comics stacked up like magic.
And just as he felt himself getting into the groove.
“Ding ding ding~”
The mobile phone rang.
That gift from the Gotham freak.
“Good evening, Mr. Batman.” Ian smoothly answered. The call had no number, so without waiting for the other side to speak, he politely greeted the Gotham freak.
“What are you doing right now?”
Batman’s question carried a hint of vigilance, as if facing a great enemy.
“On a macro level, I’m drawing a comic, and on a micro level, I’m seemingly providing voyeuristic material to a peeping tom.” Ian maintained his good upbringing, his voice light and cheerful.
His hand continued drawing, but he couldn’t resist adding two perky ahoge hairs to the Sentry—this damn hand seemed to have too many ideas of its own! Ian frantically shifted blame in his mind. To be honest, not adding two lumps of frontal baggage to the male Sentry was already a sign of his sufficient respect for Marvel.
If this got out.
He would probably be cyberbullied to death by certain popular groups in the West.
“Huff huff huff~”
Batman started panting heavily on the other end of the phone again.
Ian guessed that this master might have overdosed on drugs in his youth.
“If I may be so bold, Mr. Batman, could you share your bat camera’s network hotspot with me? As you know, my father won’t spring for ultra-high-speed internet service.”
“The home internet is too slow; the hundreds of viruses living in my computer are almost starved to death.” Ian’s heartfelt request did not receive a generous response from Batman.
“You can’t install cameras at home.”
Batman gritted his teeth in response. He might not be lying; at this moment, he wasn’t provoked by Ian’s emotions either, but rather recalling the fortune he once made from selling second-hand cameras to Clark.
Leaving aside the loan documents for this house now under his name at the bank, just the down payment alone—the purchase funds for at least one room in this home came from his contribution.
That damn Kansas boy had excessive habits of frugality and resource recycling.
“Really no cameras? I don’t believe it… You’re definitely peeping on me; my sixth sense is very strong.” Ian looked around left and right, searching for possible hiding spots for cameras.
“Turn around! Outside the window!”
Batman’s voice came from the phone receiver again.
His mood in the latter half of the night seemed particularly bad.
“Holy crap!”
Ian turned his head.
His whole body shivered.
No way around it—who let him see a bat spirit hanging upside down from the eaves, its eyes gleaming brightly in the night? Who could have guessed that the most high-end master was using the most low-end peeping method!
“This is slightly beyond the scope of my wisdom’s understanding…” Ian hurriedly got up to pull the curtain, and thoughtfully lowered the eyelid over the eyeball that Batman was using to stare at him.
“It’s creepy outside.”
Ian kept the phone call going and walked back.
“？？？？？？”
The Batman outside the window was dumbfounded. He’d seen a lot in his life, all kinds of people and things, but this was absolutely the first time he’d encountered this breed of ostrich.
“Brat, have you stopped your meds?”
Having contacted Ian’s psychiatrist, Batman had some understanding of Ian’s situation. Strangely, he didn’t seem inclined to bring up Dr. Hannibal.
“Click~”
Accompanied by the sound of prying the window, Batman’s flip into the room was very elegant—if not for stepping on his own cape upon landing, it would have been perfect.
“I haven’t stopped, but my meds are all used up. Since I no longer have anxiety disorder, Dr. Hannibal probably won’t prescribe more, so now I desperately hope some kind-hearted person can kindly sponsor me two or three tons.” Ian hadn’t yet experienced the wonders of his own body and truly longed to upgrade and learn flight.
At the same time.
He subtly mentioned Dr. Hannibal, but Batman showed no reaction, not even planning to wave his hand and sponsor an entire pharmaceutical factory.
This master just stared at Ian as if thinking.
“Do you need something from me?”
Seeing he couldn’t refuse Batman, Ian could only stop, turn around, and tentatively ask—afraid Batman had come to demand compensation for reputational damage.
Master Wayne might not care about that pittance.
But the Batman he’d guest-starred as would surely delight in seeing him penniless.
“I won’t pursue your previous behavior, so no need to probe wildly in front of me.” Batman was straightforward; he removed his cowl, disguising himself as billionaire Bruce Wayne.
Ian wasn’t sure if he should pretend to be surprised.
So.
His expression changed several times in a second, finally returning to normal, as if startled, to show his attitude. This wave once again left the human-form Bruce speechless.
“…”
He sighed speechlessly.
“I need your manuscript.” Master Wayne got straight to the point, stating the purpose of his night raid on this single man’s home. He hadn’t come all the way from Gotham just to take abuse.
“Which one?”
Ian tilted his head; it wasn’t exactly playing dumb. He treated all his works with equal dedication, without favoritism, so he didn’t know which epic masterpiece Batman had become obsessed with.
“The maddest one.”
Bruce’s voice was like he’d swallowed broken glass.
Hard to broach.
“I only write serious literature. Behind seemingly absurd stories, they all contain astonishing reason, such as…” Ian still planned to refute clearly and logically.
However.
“Give me the manuscript!”
Bruce suddenly raised his voice, interrupting him. His mentality was a bit shattered tonight, but not because of Ian—rather, because of what happened in Gotham.
Paper scraps raining all over the street.
Everyone in Gotham City read the story that, in his prediction, would only circulate in the asylum—this universe truly didn’t have many things that could break Master Wayne’s defense.
Joker + Ian’s so-called talent was truly the ultimate royal flush combo.
