Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics-Chapter 4426 - 3514: Research on Cats and Dogs (25)

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After seeing Barry off, Shiller picked up his cigar again and walked back into the dining room, weaving through the crowd to sit next to Victor, who was fiddling with finger cookies.

"What's up?" Victor asked.

Shiller shook his head and asked the waiter for a fresh set of cutlery. While tying a napkin around his neck, he said, "Nothing. Did you catch the emergency news just now?"

"You mean the explosion on Metropolitan Commercial Street? Didn't they say it was caused by a gas leak at a business establishment?"

Shiller nodded again, but he didn't look like he was confirming the truth—more like he approved of the explanation.

Although Shiller had taken the cutlery, he didn't take much food, only helping himself to some vegetable salad. Most of the time, he was just drinking.

Victor glanced around, lowered his voice, and said, "Jonathan is an absolute wildcard. I have no clue why the Dean agreed to let him come back."

"The lack of faculty strength in the chemistry department severely affects Gotham University's ratings and rankings. Plus, with the rapid development of the chemical industry recently, more talent reserves are needed. Jonathan's professional expertise is still commendable."

Victor examined Shiller's expression. He didn't appear to be speaking out of both sides of his mouth.

"You're serious? That doesn't sound like you." Victor shook his head, refocusing on his plate as he added, "Jonathan is a born antisocial personality. He'll never behave like a proper professor. If he ends up causing major chaos, it'll be far too late to deal with the consequences."

"Even antisocial personalities have their uses." Shiller chuckled, "The city has two new superheroes—how could we go without matching supervillains to oppose them?"

"New superheroes? Who are you talking about?"

"Batman and Superman, of course." Shiller lowered his voice further, "If my guess is right, someone has already noticed their presence."

In the Mayor's Office of the Gotham City Government, the Pale Knight was staring in a daze at a photograph. The secretary stood to the side, waiting for instructions.

"Is this thing affecting the skyline?"

"Not for now," the secretary replied. "Its height doesn't surpass the nearby high-rises by the beach. You can only see a bit of it through the gaps between the buildings. For now, there's no risk of damaging the skyline."

"Then leave it be for the time being," the Pale Knight said, "and don't bother demolishing it. Let's just treat it as a new project from the tourism bureau."

The secretary turned his gaze back to the photograph. On Gotham's public beach, a towering sandcastle—over ten meters tall—stood magnificently. Crowds of tourists encircled the castle, marveling at the oddity.

However, they only gathered at the base, while two figures were positioned on the balcony of the sandcastle's second floor. When the photo was zoomed in, the two were distinctly familiar faces: one was Bruce Wayne, the other Clark Kent.

"Do we know where these two went?" the Pale Knight asked.

"It seems they're staying at the Wayne Hotel not far from the beach. Strangely, they didn't use the hotel's private beach but chose the public one instead. Later in the evening, they returned to the hotel. Witnesses reported they were accompanied by a young girl."

"That would be Aisha, Bruce's daughter. This Bruce Wayne clearly isn't... never mind. Arrange for someone to keep an eye on the hotel. If they leave, send a car to bring them here."

"Understood, I'll make the arrangements right away."

Night was about to fall, and Batman was switching into his gear. Though the day had been fun, the night called for serious business.

Batman wasn't reckless, though; he didn't plan to return to Wayne Manor dressed like this. Instead, his destination was the Wayne building for an investigation. After all, it housed several labs, and he figured he might procure some equipment.

Most importantly, the Wayne building used facial recognition systems, allowing him to get inside just by scanning his face. Heading to Wayne Manor, though, would be risky—Alfred would easily identify him as not being the local Batman.

Superman joined him, but he didn't intend to enter the building—just standing watch outside. To avoid drawing too much attention, he didn't wear his Superman suit, instead layering a sports jacket over the short sleeve he'd worn earlier that day.

The two of them made their way out in this mismatched fashion. As they approached the underground parking garage, Superman couldn't help but comment, "We look like the worst kind of convention buddies: one decked out in full gear, the other just indifferent."

"You attend conventions?" Batman glanced back. "We should go together next time. I'll dress up as Batman, and you as Superman."

"That's too dull. I'd dress as Batman, and you could be Superman."

"I've already done that before," Batman replied. "Zatanna was performing magic on stage, but things went awry. To save the moment, I threw on your uniform..."

"What? When was this? The Best Magician Tour?"

"I think so—it was the Metropolis show. Lots of people saw it, even made the news. You didn't catch it?"

"I'm not someone who searches for my alias online, then goes into the comments to reply to all the negative ones."

"Are you implying that's me? Because I don't waste my time like that." Batman turned his head forward again.

"You don't waste time replying to negative comments, because you're busy replying to positive ones," Superman teased. "And liking Diana's blog post reviewing the Justice League with your official account."

"Because I'm Batman's benefactor, okay?"

Just then, a black business car pulled up in front of them. A formally dressed man and woman stepped out.

"Good evening, Mr. Bruce Wayne and Mr. Clark Kent. We're staff from the city government. The Mayor wishes to invite you to dinner. Please come with us."

Batman froze mid-motion, his raised arm hanging there. That one sentence had too many points to nitpick, and he wasn't sure where to even start.

He wanted to insist on "use official titles when in public," but considering the Batman of this universe had long retired, it was understandable that the request couldn't be met.

But seriously, if you claim to be city government staff, could you at least not dress like agents straight out of *Men in Black*?

Knowing they were city officials, it made sense the Mayor was inviting them for dinner. But to the uninformed, it'd look as though they were sent by the Godfather. The vibe was indistinguishable from mobsters.

Which wasn't far off the mark. Under Roy's lead, Gotham City's administrative team was practically a massive mob operation. Even as they gradually cleaned up their act, old habits were hard to shake.

There was one advantage to their gangster style—it made refusal nearly impossible. Even when dealing with Batman and Superman, you'd think twice about whether declining would lead them to offer conditions you simply couldn't refuse.

Batman and Superman got into the car. Batman wanted to inquire about the situation, but both the driver and the woman in the passenger seat were tight-lipped.

"Fine, the code of silence—I get it." Batman sighed, muttering softly, "At least tell us what's on the dinner menu?"

"The city government's private banquet hall has prepared a lavish feast for you. You needn't worry about that," the woman finally replied.

However, when Batman tried to bring up subjects like "what the Mayor wants with them," the woman turned silent again.

This made Batman realize that she was highly trained and definitely didn't resemble government staff—more like an FBI agent.

This peculiar sense of reversal persisted throughout this universe: employees acting like agents, superheroes appearing as regular civilians, office workers resembling mob enforcers. It was as if everything here existed in an upside-down world...

It wasn't until they got out of the car and were led into the city government's banquet hall that Batman realized this chaotic sense of reversal was no illusion.

Standing behind the long table, waiting for them, was the Joker.

Of course, the Pale Knight hadn't worn Joker makeup for years. But Jack Napier was basically the universal prototype for nearly every Joker, and even this Joker Jack used the same baseline model. Without the clown makeup, he strongly resembled the Pale Knight.

It was no surprise that the Joker in Batman's universe also shared this appearance. Although clown makeup would slightly obscure facial features, it couldn't deceive Batman—or Superman wielding Super Vision.

Batman instinctively took a half-step back and bumped into Superman. Superman placed a hand on his arm and reassured him, saying, "Don't worry, I'm here."

What compelled Batman to retreat wasn't just Jack Napier's face but the Joker, who typically contorted this face into various deranged smiles, now staring at them with a solemn, disapproving expression.

The Joker's daily laughter was undeniably unsettling, but when the laughter stopped, it was even more terrifying—because it always left you wondering what could've stopped the Joker from laughing.

Moreover, the tightened lips and downturned corners of his mouth—why did they seem so oddly familiar? Are you Batman, or am I Batman?

Thankfully, before Batman could spiral into overthinking, the Pale Knight spoke. "Welcome. Please have a seat."

It was then that Batman realized—the people who had picked him up mentioned the Mayor inviting them to dinner, meaning the Jack Napier in front of him was the Mayor?

This world had truly gone insane.

Batman and Superman took their seats. One exquisite dish after another was served. Batman, admittedly famished, still refrained from using his cutlery because the Joker sitting at the head looked like he had something to say. Who would've thought Batman would one day have to watch the Joker's cues before eating?

"First of all, on behalf of the Gotham citizens, I welcome you both. However, the masterpiece you created today on Gotham's beach attracted quite the stir. While it's a public space, the crowd it drew has posed potential safety risks..."

Batman and Superman exchanged a glance, both looking slightly guilty. No way Aisha alone could've built such a massive castle; the monumental sandcastle was undeniably their handiwork.

"Apologies," Superman quickly responded, knowing Batman would never willingly apologize to the Joker, "We got a little carried away while having fun. But it's also because of your city's stunning scenery and pleasant climate, which greatly inspired our creativity. Public art installations in spaces like this are featured in major cities worldwide. While the audience's curiosity and enthusiasm are inevitable, they're usually mindful of boundaries. I believe the civic consciousness of your city's citizens..."

This was why carrying a reporter around at all times was crucial, Batman thought. Clark Kent might well be the best reporter in the world.