American comic Gotham, the sheriff of Arkham

After a busy night, Batman took advantage of the light of dawn and rode in the Batmobile to leave Gotham City, which had been baptized by the darkness.

Following the suburban road, they returned to the Batcave washed by waterfalls just as the first ray of sunlight appeared. The chariot slowly opened its roof and Batman got out.

Batman untied the folding mechanical fist armor on his hand, and a bullet fell from it. He reached out and picked up the bullet.

He looked down at the pits on his chest armor, shook his head, walked forward, took off his helmet and put it on the shelf.

It seems... something is missing today...

Bruce Wayne frowned, picked up the makeup remover wipes to wipe off the black eye shadow on his eyes, and looked at the silent elevator.

Alfred didn't come today, so Bruce quickly took off his armor, put on a white bathrobe, and walked towards the elevator. At the same time, he turned on his mobile phone and checked the situation in Wayne's mansion.

Sure enough, there was some conversation going on in the living room, and Alfred was entertaining guests.

Bruce breathed a sigh of relief. He thought Alfred was sick. After all, he was already quite old.

Although they are in a master-servant relationship, emotionally, Alfred is Bruce's adoptive father, his most indispensable elder, and a companion who always supports him.

However, if Aldred knew this, he would definitely frown and say with a little contempt: I don't need someone who can't even take care of himself to worry about my later years.

Coming out of the elevator and walking through the corridor to the bedroom, Bruce pushed open the bedroom door and called out lazily:

"Afu! Where's my breakfast?"

He looked like a rich second-generation who lived a decadent life. Just hearing his voice made people feel disgusted.

"Master Bruce, good morning."

Alfred stood up, looked at Bruce standing on the stairs, raised his hand and introduced: "This is Master Jeremiah, the heir of the Arkham family and an excellent psychiatrist."

Jeremiah, who was wearing a well-fitting suit, stood up with a smile on his face. "I've heard of you for a long time, Mr. Wayne. I'm Jeremiah Arkham. Perhaps the name Arkham Asylum will be more familiar to you."

Bruce blinked, pretending to be an idiot, and whispered, "What is Arkham Asylum?"

"..."

Jeremiah was embarrassed on the spot. Alfred couldn't hold back his laughter and coughed. "Breakfast is in the kitchen, Master Bruce, you can wait a moment."

Alfred looked at Jeremiah and asked, "Master Jeremiah, would you like to have breakfast together? There is fresh milk from the ranch this morning, as well as some salami. If you like, there are also some carrots here, which are very suitable for vegetarians."

"Uh, no need. I came here to visit the head of the Wayne family, and..." Jeremiah smiled shyly: "I am here to seek help. It's really... hard to say."

When Bruce heard this, he walked down the stairs and looked at Jeremiah. He didn't look like he was pretending. Instead, he looked like a young man who had just entered the workplace and found it difficult to speak up for funding.

Alfred did understand one thing. They came to the Wayne family for charity, or to put it bluntly, they came to beg for money, so they felt very embarrassed.

So, Alfred went to the kitchen to clean up breakfast. Although the Wayne Mansion was very large, the main servants were only two gardeners who only came once a month.

There was also an old cook who retired and went home some time ago, and now Alfred is alone.

After Alfred left, Bruce Wayne came over, sat down on the sofa, picked up today's newspaper, flipped through it, and then quietly looked at Jeremiah.

After confirming that Jeremiah hadn't changed, Bruce stopped making things difficult for him, dropped the newspaper, and clasped his hands on his opponent.

"Why did you come to see me? My time is precious. I'll give you three minutes to tell me why."

That arrogant voice made Jeremiah feel very uncomfortable, but it also made him feel less embarrassed.

"It's like this. Arkham Asylum was founded by my grandfather. It was built in the last century. When I came here, I found that the facilities of Arkham Asylum were seriously outdated."

"Moreover, a patient escaped from prison not long ago. The patients admitted to Arkham Asylum all have serious destructive tendencies. They are all antisocial elements..."

Jeremiah spoke in a casual manner, explaining the current situation of Arkham Asylum and the areas that needed to be changed.

In the end, it came down to solving the problems: insufficient staff, old facilities, and poor environment, all of which require money to solve.

"So...so, I hope to get help from the Wayne family. I know that the Thomas couple are great philanthropists in Gotham, so..."

"They're dead." Bruce said indifferently.

"..."

Jeremiah was embarrassed again. He had no way of responding to this. He couldn't just walk away and say, "The dead cannot be resurrected, so please accept my condolences."

"Alfu!" Bruce turned and shouted towards the kitchen.

Alfred, who had already prepared the check, came out and took the breakfast out on a plate.

Bruce looked at the plate in front of him, picked up the fork, stabbed a piece of bacon, and took a vicious bite.

Jeremiah, who was sitting on the sofa, was a little restless, and was about to say goodbye.

Bruce threw a check on the table, picked up the milk with a strong milky aroma and took a sip.

"I don't like those crazy people running around the streets, but, like you said, they need help and treatment, and this is what I can do to help."

Jeremiah looked at the number on the check and his mouth opened in surprise.

"Master Jeremiah, let's have breakfast together." Alfred brought out another breakfast and placed it on the table.

"Ah... No." Jeremiah stood up, bowed to Bruce, and said sincerely: "Thank you for your generosity. Those patients will also sing praises to the kindness of the Wayne family. Thank you..."

After seeing Jeremiah off, Alfred closed the door and shook his head, saying, "He is a good and polite boy."

Bruce was eating breakfast, chewing bread, and he didn't know what he was thinking, "Afu, is it cold this winter?"

Alfred looked at the extinguished fireplace and then at the thermometer in the room: "If you feel cold, I can light the fireplace, although the room is not cold."

"No, won't Gotham be very cold this winter?" Bruce picked up the milk and drank the rest in one gulp.

"Yes, it snows every winter, and it will snow this winter too."

"We will distribute a batch of aid funds and winter aid supplies to Gotham's charity relief houses, welfare homes, and relief organizations. This winter shouldn't be too cold."

Bruce stood up and walked to the window. The window glass had not been cleaned for some time and was covered with a layer of dust.

"They will thank you for your kindness, but where will you get the money? Why don't you go and discuss it with President William and tell him that you want to run for a seat in Congress? Maybe he will be happy to agree."

Alfred made a joke. After all, Bruce was really a pauper now. No... at least he still had a Mastondin sports car in the garage.

Bruce turned his head and looked at him. "I think we should not be short of money, right?"

"This is a lady. If you are willing to accompany her to the charity gala, I think you will be able to raise more funds. You need to learn how to make good use of your influence."

Alfred pulled a business card from his pocket and placed it on the table, completely ignoring Bruce's gloomy face.

"Lars Investment Group, Talia"

------

Jeremiah left Wayne Manor, got into the car, took out the check and handed it to Hugo Strange.

"I think he is just an ordinary playboy." Jeremiah said while sitting in the car.

"What can you see? You know nothing, get out!" Strange shouted unceremoniously.

Jeremiah wanted to say something with some dissatisfaction, but the subconscious feeling of suppression made him obey the order and get out of the car.

Sitting in the car, Strange picked up the banknote, shone an ultraviolet light on it, looked at a fingerprint mark on it, and turned his head to glance at Wayne Manor behind him.

Clenching the check in his hand, Strange sneered, "There really are such coincidences in the world..."