21. Rice Sets Sail

Bruce dodged every bullet fired at him with practiced ease, completely unfazed by the chaotic chorus of voices in his head.

【The script has been uploaded. There is no use objecting now. Instead of bickering with me, you’d be better off figuring out how to play your roles well.】

Of course, that statement was slightly biased. Strictly speaking, Clark was the only one objecting to the "Damian-as-Spider-Man" idea; everyone else was clearly looking forward to it.

【Hahahaha! When is Damian finally coming home? I can’t wait to see our adorable friendly neighborhood Gothamite!】

Hardly had he finished speaking when Dick erupted into a series of cackles over the channel. Honestly, Bruce didn't see what was so funny. Was he supposed to discriminate against Damian because of his League of Assassins upbringing? Couldn’t someone from a villainous background aspire to be a kind, good person? Bruce vehemently opposed such stereotypes.

Tim: 【Exactly, exactly. I can testify—Damian is a kid who looks cold on the outside but is actually kind-hearted! He even loves small animals!】

Bruce accepted this character setting at light speed. Loving small animals? Then he must be a soft, kind-hearted child, right?

Clark’s solo protest proved futile, and he could only watch in despair as the script finished uploading. "Damian, I’ve done what I could. Take care of yourself."

In the distant Middle East, at the League of Assassins, the boy, who looked to be just past ten years old, paused. He casually wiped the blood from his hands, a glint of amusement flashing in his sharp, emerald eyes. He was Damian al Ghul, the heir to the League of Assassins, having just finished the training set by Talia—killing five clones produced in the same batch as himself.

Of course, he also held an identity that even his mother, Talia, and his grandfather, the Demon's Head, knew nothing about: he was a "jungle actor" who had been forgotten by the Director for a full month. Fortunately, the World Consciousness had considered the difficulty of playing Damian and had initially selected an elite agent-level actor with a chaotic-neutral personality to portray him. As a result, Damian had thrived in the League, and thanks to the hellish education he’d received since birth, no one suspected him even when he displayed intelligence far beyond his years.

Now, having almost suspected that the Director had forgotten him entirely, Damian finally received his script. He was ambitious and brimming with excitement. Come on, who could resist telling Batman, "You’re shorter than I imagined"?

He swore by the name of al Ghul that he would come up with an entrance more spectacular than the original—he would not tarnish the name of the great Damian!

The second Damian accepted the script, he was still mentally planning how to show off and make a scene within the allowed parameters. But as he clearly read his character profile, the excitement on his face froze.

The next second.

"Fuck!"

Watching Damian, who was contorting his face as if performing a one-man masquerade of chaos, Talia, standing not far away, crossed her arms. A flicker of worry crossed her identical emerald eyes. Damian’s emotions seemed to be spiraling out of control. Was it the influence of the strange atmosphere in the League lately? Perhaps she should accelerate the plan and send him to his father sooner.

Unfortunately, Damian was not a telepath. If he had known what Talia was thinking, he would have shouted: "No!"

The current Gotham was no longer the grand stage of his past fantasies; it was a "social death" scene meticulously planned by the Director. He absolutely refused to go! He would stall for as long as he could!

Alas, the arrangements of fate were clever indeed. Damian’s "wandering while doing good deeds until becoming a friendly neighborhood Gothamite" script was currently loading...

In the dead of night, a calmed-down Damian decided that since the script was delivered, as a professional actor, he had to accept the arrangement and perform at his best!

He decisively discarded his blood-stained dagger, donned gear that supposedly wouldn't kill anyone, released all the experimental subjects in Talia's lab, and, while setting explosives to blow up his happy home, screamed his aspirations at the pursuing Talia: "Mother! I’ve suddenly realized that violence isn't my pursuit; helping others is where my heart lies! So, I’m setting sail today!"

Talia: ?

How had her perfectly fine child suddenly gone insane?!

Just as the League of Assassins was in a frenzy, unable to figure out why their young master had suddenly fallen ill, Bruce, far away in Gotham, was also bewildered as he stared at the young man with a red bucket on his head. He had just finished cleaning up a group of mobsters when he turned to find this youth, who looked to weigh at least 200 pounds, blocking his path.

After waiting three seconds out of politeness, he was about to use his fists to ask who the stranger was, when the youth sneered. His tone was sharp and biting, yet carried an indescribable sense of familiarity.

"Old man, isn't there enough for you to manage elsewhere? Why did you come to my East End? Did you finally decide to throw me into Arkham?"

"..."

Bruce didn't recognize him, but he was certainly familiar with Arkham Asylum, having forged deep "friendships" with most of its VIP residents through bone-crushing combat. He cautiously examined the distinctive attire, trying to identify whether this was an old friend with a fresh coat of paint or a potential new recruit, when a lazy voice suddenly cut into his mental channel.

【Bruce, nice to meet you. Finally connected to the channel. Though I’m not Damian from the Middle East; I’m right here in Gotham. I thought you’d come looking for me sooner, but you left me hanging for a month.】

？！

Bruce used every ounce of his willpower to keep his face from twitching. *So, who exactly are you? Are we close?*

Red Hood was also confused by Batman’s silence. Due to various reasons, he had only met the Director today and successfully joined the channel; previously, he could only passively receive the scripts transmitted by the Director. But the Director hadn't sent him a personal script, so he’d had to honestly stick to the Red Hood persona he knew, cleaning up local gangs in Gotham’s East End. Having finally found the opportunity to join the organization today, the organization’s silence made him panic, fearing he had accidentally disrupted the Director’s plans.

【Hey! I haven't been kicked out of the Bat-Family, have I? I thought we were already in the honeymoon phase between Red Hood and the Bat-Family... Are we still in the 'fight-to-the-death' stage?】

Bruce didn't just stand there; he flipped through the actor list, quickly locating Red Hood’s profile photo and successfully matching it to the man before him.

But...

Looking at the Red Hood in front of him—leather jacket, twin pistols at his waist, smelling of gunpowder, and looking like anything but a "good guy"—Bruce silently added a question mark in his mind.

Red Hood is also a member of the Bat-Family? Seriously? Isn't this guy a mob boss in Gotham’s East End?

His gaze soon swept to the red bat symbol prominently displayed on Red Hood’s chest, and he buried his face in his hands, pained. He had seen him when he scrolled through the actor list earlier and had always assumed he was a villain, similar to the Penguin...

Is the Bat-Family composition really this complicated?!