“You mean, after staking out there for several days, the biggest problem you discovered was… he might be stealing electricity?”
Nick Fury stood in the S.H.I.E.L.D. office, holding a report and asking Coulson.
Coulson also knew that the report really looked like something written in a hurry that morning because he was too hungover to write it the day before. The conclusion on it was just a bottle of whiskey away from nonsense.
Nick Fury held the report and took a deep breath. His mouth opened, but he paused for a moment, clearly speechless.
He said, “Actually, I’ve always disagreed with S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents’ evaluation standards, Coulson. I think you are my strongest argument against this standard, aren’t you?”
“Uh…” Coulson awkwardly rubbed his hands and said, “Actually, we didn’t observe nothing. We found that there might be a tunnel under his clinic…”
“I really should have Nurse Jenny give you a sobriety test, Coulson. You wrote here, ‘Observed the target frequently appearing suddenly about a hundred meters outside the clinic in other places,’ and your conclusion for this is… there might be a tunnel under the clinic?” Nick Fury said.
“Actually, I know he might have the ability to teleport,” Coulson said, crossing his arms and frowning. “But according to the cases we’ve dealt with, teleportation always has a landing moment. We set up hundreds of miniature cameras around, but not a single one captured anything unusual.”
Nick Fury said, “Then go add a few hundred more. He is very important to us right now, and he’s the most difficult type of opponent to deal with. Don’t be careless…”
At this moment, on the bed in the Gotham University Professor’s apartment, Schiller had just woken up and found a furry thing in his arms. He looked down—Pikachu!
“Oh, what’s wrong with you? What time is it?” Pikachu was so sleepy he couldn’t open his eyes. Schiller rubbed his eyes. How did this rat follow him here??
Pikachu, in his groggy state, looked around, was startled, and instantly sobered up, saying, “Where is this?! How did you bring me here? Are you actually a human trafficker???”
Schiller, while folding the quilt, said, “Why don’t you explain to me first why you’re on my bed?”
“How dare you ask me??” Pikachu roared. It said, “It’s a three-story building, and you only turned on the heating in your room! If I couldn’t pick locks, I’d be frozen to death by now!”
“Oh, really?” Schiller felt no guilt. He said, “Freeze-dried rat isn’t a good idea.”
“So why are you here? Where is this?”
“As you can see, I can travel through time and space, so I woke up here,” Schiller said. “This is a very dangerous place. If you run around, you’ll be stewed in less than three minutes.”
“Tsk.” Pikachu let out a disdainful snort. It said, “You can travel through time and space? Well, I can use Splash.”
Schiller wasn’t lying, and it didn’t matter if Pikachu knew. After all, it was a rat. In the eyes of these Super Heroes, its words were even less credible than a repeater. If it went babbling in front of Batman, Batman would definitely stew it immediately. Batman doesn’t kill people, but he certainly doesn’t mind killing rats.
Facing non-human creatures, few Earth heroes trust them. Although Pikachu speaks indistinguishably from humans, and with a strange Canadian accent, this yellow rat, which clearly looks like some genetically modified creature, is obviously difficult to convince any normal person, so Schiller wasn't worried at all.
While Schiller was making the bed, Pikachu scurried around the room, sniffing everywhere, wrinkling its little nose, and grumbling disdainfully, “It seems you really have some ability. This is indeed not the original World.”
In the morning, Schiller went to class, carrying Pikachu in his bag. It wasn’t that he wanted to take Pikachu to class; it was mainly because if he didn’t take it, Pikachu would definitely sneak out on its own and then get stewed.
Pikachu kept poking its head out of Schiller’s bag and was pushed back by Schiller several times. In the afternoon, Schiller placed the bag on the table in the psychology consultation room, pressed Pikachu’s forehead, and said, “Listen, even if I don’t care if others see a strange yellow creature in my bag, I think you should understand what I told you about Super Heroes. Every one of them takes ‘meddling’ as their life motto. No one will pass up the chance to study you, this yellow rat, especially…”
As Schiller was speaking, the door to the psychology consultation room suddenly opened. Bruce said, “Professor, I…”
As soon as he entered, he saw his Professor pressing his hand on the forehead of a strange yellow creature.
Pikachu was startled and instantly darted into Schiller’s arms. Schiller pursed his lips, glanced at Pikachu, then at Bruce. Holding Pikachu, he said, “If I told you this is a new species of albino mole, would you believe me…”
“If I don’t believe it, are you going to make up another one?” Bruce said, crossing his arms.
Pikachu bared its teeth at him, but Schiller clapped a hand over its mouth. He said, “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Wayne?”
Bruce walked over and said, “In fact, I’m very sorry… It’s like this, I’d like to invite you to be a guest at Wayne Manor…”
A guest at Wayne Manor?
Was this an invitation to surrender?
Bruce was clearly a bit awkward because Schiller knew his true identity, so he couldn’t quite grasp whether he should be Bruce or Batman. Moreover, the current Batman wasn’t as aloof as he would be later, and he would even actively seek out Gordon for cooperation. So, Bruce was currently in a very conflicted state.
Schiller could sense a bit of it through telepathy. He tapped on the table and proactively said, “I can see it, Bruce, you’re very conflicted right now. Sit down.”
“Actually, you’ve been doing very well. Bruce is not Batman; he’s just an uneducated playboy whose favorite things are partying and drinking, surrounded by beautiful women. And Batman is just the opposite…”
Bruce sat down, pressing his fingers to his temple. He said, “I don’t understand the point of doing this. I don’t think it can fool anyone.”
Bruce wasn’t stupid. He was the only one in all of Gotham City with that much money. Only he had the financial means to create Batman’s equipment. He didn’t think criminals were fools who wouldn’t know he was Bruce Wayne.
Moreover, one could infer something just from his physique. Bruce played the field; he wouldn’t always be completely covered up at certain times. It wouldn’t be difficult to figure out some body details if one really wanted to.
Especially since Schiller had seen Bruce going out carousing late at night more than once, and his female companions were never the same. Just from the famous Nightingale cheerleading squad, half of them had been involved with Bruce.
In fact, Schiller speculated that many of the highly intelligent villains in the comics shouldn’t have been completely in the dark. This deduction isn’t difficult, but they still act as if, “Who is Batman, anyway? How can I not guess?” There must be a reason for this.
“Yes, this isn’t really a secret, but as long as you want it to be a secret, then it will be your weapon when necessary.”
“If you act as if a certain secret is very important, others will also believe that this secret is very important to you. You try desperately to conceal it, but if it’s revealed at a critical moment, it can naturally prove your sincerity, even if it’s not actually important.”
Schiller was referring to Bruce’s future dealings with the Justice League. To gain the Justice League’s trust, Batman took off his mask—revealing a secret everyone already knew: Batman was Bruce Wayne.
But everyone still increased their trust in Batman because Batman always acted as if this secret was very important to him and was willing to reveal it for his companions, which, of course, gained trust. Even though this secret could be guessed with a little thought, it wasn’t important; what was important was the attitude!
Bruce stroked his chin and readily continued, “For example, if a criminal tries to use this point to threaten me, I can calmly set a trap for him…”
“Alright, Mr. Wayne.” Schiller glanced at his watch and then said, “The psychology consultation time is up. Regarding your invitation, once I receive the invitation letter, I will consider it carefully.”
Bruce didn’t quite understand why Schiller needed to consider it carefully. In the United States, a verbal invitation indicates a private, informal visit, perhaps just a casual dinner together.
But when Schiller mentioned an invitation letter, Bruce felt that Schiller might think such an invitation wasn’t formal enough, appearing to lack importance. So, after leaving the consultation room, he had Alfred, the butler, prepare an invitation letter and a banquet.
In reality, what he didn’t know was that for Schiller, being invited by Batman to his home was like being told, “Are you interested in walking into a trap?”
He needed far too much psychological preparation.
Although Schiller knew that the current Bruce was far from the later Batman, and his two identities hadn’t even been fully separated yet, if it were the Batman from the comics, Bruce would just come over with a bottle of wine and say he wanted to introduce him to some beautiful women at a party.
Instead of acting serious and awkward.
But Schiller’s stereotype of Batman was too deep. He even suspected that this was a trap specifically set by Batman to get his DNA, which was absolutely something Batman would do.
Additionally, although Bruce didn’t say it, it was clear that Pikachu, this yellow rat, had caught his attention.
Schiller grabbed Pikachu by the tail, lifted it up, and said, “Did you see the person who just came in? That’s the boss of Gotham. If you want to live well in the future, it’s best not to offend him.”
Pikachu flailed its short little arms in mid-air, struggling desperately, and said, “Put me down! That person just now was really terrifying!”
Schiller pulled Pikachu by the tail, bringing it in front of him, and said, “How did you know?”
“Detective’s intuition!” Pikachu shouted. It said, “You really should consider not staying here. This place makes me cold. Isn’t it better if we go back to that place yesterday? I can even tolerate you eating strawberry jam!”
Schiller looked Pikachu up and down, feeling that it wasn’t telling the truth.