American comics: Praising the sun, starting from Gotham!

Ivy's gaze swept over the special police officers in their black uniforms, exuding a sense of gunpowder. Her innate aversion to industrial creations made her curl her lip.

"Don't spread your awful tear gas smell everywhere."

With a flick of her finger, she "gently" released the scarecrow from a height of two meters.

boom.

Jonathan Crane, who had just tried to feign unconsciousness, once again had a close encounter with the hard floor.

"Take away this pile of garbage that could cause wilt disease."

Ivy looked at Xiu En as if she had finally finished sorting the trash, but her tone was one percent gentler than when she spoke to the police.

"I'm going back. Since that capitalist Bruce said he'd give you clean water, you'd better make sure you're firmly rooted. Don't let your light go out when I see you in a few days."

After saying that, she didn't go through the main gate at all. Instead, she leaped out of the huge hole like a forest fairy, following the vines, and disappeared into the gray skyline of Gotham in a few leaps.

All that remained was a floor covered with withered leaves.

"so……"

Gordon kicked the scarecrow on the ground with the tip of his shoe, signaling his men to handcuff him.

"What's this time? Researching a new project? Using the lungs of the Wayne Corporation's chairman for live experiments?"

"It wasn't me..." The scarecrow finally had a chance to speak. He struggled to raise his head, and there was actually a trace of confusion in his eyes in the face of this absurd situation.

"That guy... that glowing one... he's not even afraid of the most basic fear factor V! And he even wants to drink my medicine! He's a monster!"

"Okay, record this and add it to his psychiatric evaluation report. His paranoia has worsened again."

Gordon nodded as if it were a habit, and gestured to his subordinates.

"Take him away. Remember to seal his mouth tightly so he can't spit any more."

Two SWAT officers immediately lifted up the scarecrow, who was still shouting about how unscientific it was, and swiftly dragged him out.

When the center of that farce was finally cleared away, all that remained in the room was a mess, the sound of wind and rain, and Xiu En still studying how big the hole in the wall was.

"Bruce".

Gordon then truly focused his attention on the humanoid walking light bulb, but he didn't see Hugh as yet another supervillain. Instead, he stared at him with a mixture of wariness and suspicion.

Gordon whispered to Bruce.

"He's dangerous. He has no record of identity, and the first time he was recorded was when he killed two robbers."

He looked at Xiu En again, his hand unconsciously reaching for the notebook on the other side of his waist.

"This young man looks like a college student, and... he's really quite striking. Is he a model for your company's new energy product showcase?"

Xiu En immediately straightened his posture, although the halo above his head now looked more like an interrogation lamp: "Well, actually, this is a rather rare skin condition. Really, it's a variant of UV allergy. If I didn't let this light out, I would spontaneously combust."

"I'll take that as a belief."

Gordon looked at Hugh, whose face was full of honesty but whose every word gave him a headache, sighed, and turned to Bruce.

"But I don't care if he's your bodyguard, the doctor, or that vegetative woman's friend, keep an eye on him. Gotham has had enough strange things going on lately."

Gordon glanced one last time at Shum, who was still shining like a statue of the Virgin Mary, and then at Bruce, who was kicking the scarecrow's mask fragments into the corner.

He let out a long sigh that contained a thousand unspoken words, turned around and led the group of special police officers, whose faces clearly read "Is that all?", out of the room, politely closing the door behind them.

Bruce said, "Let's go. If we stay any longer, those nurses will come and take pictures with you. My lawyer is already drafting a list of damages for that lunatic damaging my property, though he can't afford it."

"The capitalists' abacus beads have all hit my face."

Xiu En muttered something.

He stretched his limbs, which were actually just a little hungry but not stiff, and wrapped them tightly in his not-so-warm hospital gown, then trotted after Bruce.

"But since the boss said he'd reimburse us, shouldn't we get our hands on that T-4 first? My throat feels like I've swallowed two pounds of quicklime."

They did not follow the usual patient pathway.

Bruce used that face, and perhaps some fingerprints or pupil scans hidden somewhere, to unlock a large elevator in a corner that looked like it was used for freight.

When the metal door slid open, revealing the titanium alloy interior that seemed to practically scream "I'm burning money!" in the cracks of the floorboards, even Xiu En, as a time traveler, couldn't help but marvel.

"Is this the so-called channel for the abandoned sample library?"

Xiu En reached out and poked the touch panel on the wall.

The descent speed displayed on it was ridiculously fast, but so smooth that there was not even the slightest feeling of weightlessness.

"I bet what's in your thermos isn't nuclear fusion fuel. Just a little bit of that could buy this whole floor, right?"

"This is black tea, brewed by Afu this morning."

Bruce leaned against the armrest, his gaze lingering on the halo around Shuen for two seconds, a playful smile playing on his lips.

"Speaking of money, I think you could rent your head out in Times Square to be that famous GG sign. 24/7 lighting, that would definitely make more money than this elevator."

"That's not making money, that's performing for money."

Xiu En refuted him righteously, but then he rubbed his hands together and a smile reappeared.

"But I could consider being the lighthouse on your private island, provided you can provide that drug long-term, and... three meals a day."

The elevator doors opened.

Shuen had to admit that the word "abandoned" might have different meanings in the Wayne family's dictionary.

The so-called underground laboratory, B-12, was so clean that it could be used directly as an operating table.

The cold white light shone on rows of unidentified analytical instruments, and in front of the innermost constant-temperature refrigerated cabinet, Bruce skillfully entered a complex password that even Shuen couldn't remember.

laugh--

Along with the white smoke from the cold air, he took out a small test tube containing a dark blue liquid.

The liquid swayed under the light.

"The optimized T-4 reagent has removed hallucinogenic components while retaining the cell-activating and cardiotonic effects."

"It was originally intended as an alternative for deep-sea diving operators, but it should be enough as your cough syrup."

Xiu En hurriedly caught it; the feeling of being showered with money by a tycoon was both painful and pleasurable.

[System detected contact with "Optimized Alchemy Potion (Defective)". Ingredient assessment: Safe. Can be used to temporarily suppress the backlash from the metal element in the lungs.]

[Effect: Reduces the rate of health loss by 50% (lasts 12 hours).]

Just by holding it in his hand, without even drinking it, Xiu En felt the stinging pain that had been lingering in his lungs subside slightly, and the discomfort that made him feel like he was about to spit out razor blades was suppressed by a cool sensation.

"nice one!"

Xiu En even considered kowtowing to the thing, but he quickly remembered something more important.

"Well... rich guy, this deal is done, right? Look, I've helped you resolve half of this crisis, at least I've sent away those lunatics who wanted to destroy your building."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at Shum's "I've sacrificed a lot" expression.

"You mean your solution is that you did nothing and Pamela solved everything?"

"Those are all minor details."

Shuen took the potion very naturally, then looked at Bruce with utmost sincerity.

"The point is, now that I've done the work for you and am healthy and free of illness... shouldn't we honor that humanitarian care clause?"

"I think... I can smell the steak. Seriously, well-done, no side dishes, please."

Looking at this guy who didn't treat him like an outsider at all, Bruce suddenly felt that sending Scarecrow to Blackgate Prison might have been too hasty. At least that guy wouldn't have asked for so much when eating that rotten bun.