American comic Gotham, the sheriff of Arkham

"Alfred, I'm hungry. Did you prepare some midnight snack for me?"

Bruce Wayne, who had just finished a charity dinner and danced two dances with a lady whose name he didn't remember, felt something was wrong as soon as he pushed the door open and walked into the Wayne Mansion.

In the past, at this time, Alfred would be waiting for him at the door. Even though it was late, he would definitely be there. Moreover, inside the house...

Bruce let go of the door handle and walked quietly into the hall, looking at the scarecrow lying on the steps and the black and white striped clothes.

Just as he was walking forward, he saw something under his feet that made Bruce stop. He reached out and picked up the silver knife on the ground, and ran his fingers over the pattern on the handle.

Bruce's eyes gradually turned cold. He wore a mask so as not to attract other people's attention. He didn't want the people he cared about to be hurt because of him.

Click, the tape recorder on the stairs started playing in reverse again. During this time, it had played it countless times.

"Batman...or, I should call you: Bruce Wayne. As a psychiatrist, I am very worried about your mental health. After all, it is not a healthy thing for a transvestite to wander the streets of Gotham at night."

"Um, let me think, you may not know me. Can I introduce myself, if that's okay. I'd love to... treat you personally, you can call me Scarecrow!"

"This is a gift from me to you, a hospital gown. I have also prepared a room for you. You can live in it with complete peace of mind. I will make you normal."

"By the way, your loyal old butler is also here. I'll wait for you to come over. You shouldn't go the wrong way, right?"

The tape has finished playing, but it is still turning. After it completes this circle, it will rewind and play again.

Bruce stood in front of the steps, looking at the scarecrow lying on the steps. The dry straw on it was woven into a gourd-shaped body with a wooden stick inserted inside.

It's exactly like the scarecrows that farmers make in their fields to scare away crows.

"Alfred, wait for me!"

Bruce clutched the dinner knife in his hand, and beneath his cold expression, there was a terrible rage brewing, just like a roaring volcano, the hot magma was ready to erupt at any time.

However, he did not let his anger get to his head. Instead, he forced himself to calm down and checked the scene.

There were no signs of fierce fighting. The other side had very few people, maybe only one. There was no surveillance in Wayne's mansion, and there was no surveillance even around, which meant that someone could use force against him.

Bruce's brain, which is considered to be that of a top detective, has reconstructed the scene at that time. He retreated to the door and looked at the new scratches on the door lock. The other party had pried the door open.

This old-fashioned door lock can no longer protect against thieves. The thief is carrying a scarecrow and there are traces of collision on the floor.

The other party's physical condition was not very good. There were signs that he had rested on the road, and there were signs that he was hiding outside the house. The other party was waiting for him to drive away to attend the banquet before taking action.

After discovering this, Bruce's face was so gloomy that it seemed like water was about to drip out. The disguise that he was so proud of... was useless.

Back in the hall, Bruce saw some signs at the bottom of the stairs. It wasn't a fight, but someone rolling down the stairs.

Bruce's heart skipped a beat, suspecting that Alfred had fallen, but upon closer inspection, the marks were very shallow and the man was very light, at least not of Alfred's size.

The opponent fell down the stairs and Alfred was knocked down here. There was not much sign of struggle and he was hit with one shot. It should be a weapon like an electric shock gun that can quickly subdue him.

However, what made Bruce curious was that, judging from these traces, Alfred had the upper hand and even defeated the opponent. How could he... be controlled by the opponent?

Bruce looked up at the ground, replaying the previous scene in his mind. When Alfred was knocked down, he didn't resist at all.

It was as if he was stunned by something, or suddenly in a trance, so he didn't see the opponent's attack.

Bruce pondered for a moment, recalling the electric shock bullet fired from the wrist that Naegi had used not long ago. It was concealed but very dangerous, and then he came up with an idea.

Bruce also had some general ideas about how to deal with the enemy, and walked over to check on the scarecrow lying on the steps.

The straw was very clean and seemed new. Judging from the way the hemp rope was tied, it should have been handmade. However, the wooden stick underneath was a badly worn mop handle.

The key point is that the hospital gown looks like a prison uniform with black and white zebra stripes and a number tag on the chest.

No. 3124 should be the corresponding ward. Combined with the reminder in the tape, it is a mental hospital!

Arkham Asylum!

Only Gotham has such a name. Even if there are mentally ill people in other places, they will not wear such hospital gowns.

Only in Arkham Asylum, where most of the patients are hopelessly mentally ill and are serving sentences, would they wear prison uniform-like clothing.

This information gave Bruce a clear goal in mind. He reached out and picked up the tape recorder, turned off the power, and walked upstairs.

When he reached the corner of the stairs, Bruce stopped and looked at the painting on the wall. Even if he didn't mean to, he could still imagine what Alfred looked like standing in front of this painting.

He also understood what Aldred wanted him to do, whether it was to be a playboy who ruined the family business, or to go to the Wayne Group and become a wealthy philanthropist.

But he chose the most dangerous path.

People always say that they should forget the past, reconcile with the past, and calm down the anger, but... can they really forget it?

Until now, Bruce still remembers the two gunshots in that alley and the broken pearl necklace.

The bodies of his parents fell to the ground, gradually getting colder as the blood flowed. At that moment they were already dead. After seeing the murderer, Bruce just wanted to kill him with his own hands!

Anger was like an invisible demon, whispering in his ear that the so-called hatred must be washed away with blood and must be retaliated in a deeper, bloodier and more cruel way.

Bruce's body began to tremble and he clenched his fists tightly. Alfred's accident made him a little out of control. He didn't want to lose anything anymore.

The flames of anger were overwhelmed by reason, and Bruce regained his usual calm. He swore on his parents' graves that he would eliminate the evil that took their lives from this city.

No matter what face, form, or shape this evil takes, he will fight it to the end.

He also believes that his vows and promises will be fulfilled one day, and for this he will stick to them until the last moment.