American comic book: Transmigrated into Dior and adopted by the Wayne family

Dior then turned his attention to this long-term task.

[Long-Term Mission: The Shadow of Crime Alley]

[By investigating the Wayne couple's deaths, we can uncover the true mastermind behind it all.]

[The reward will be determined based on the final survey results]

[P.S.: Gotham will not tolerate a villain more evil than you. Find and destroy it!]

These thoughts flashed through my mind.

Dior lowered his eyelashes, suppressing his emotions deep within his eyes. When he looked up again, his face was only filled with polite calm.

Bruce was staring at him, patiently, like a listener who wouldn't give a perfunctory answer.

But Dio knew that Bruce was likely watching him, or even evaluating him!

He didn't want Bruce Wayne to discover anything about him!

Even just a little bit!

"Hmph, do you even know what we need most right now?"

Dior gently pulled his hand away from Bruce's, elegantly adjusted his cuffs, and gave a meaningful look.

"Do you need the case files for my parents' case? The latest newspapers? A lead that Detective Gordon found?"

"No, no, no, naive Bruce."

Dio calmly raised his finger and shook it in front of Bruce:

"We need some ham slices, two guns, and a discreet vehicle."

Bruce was stunned.

"Ham...slices?"

"That's right, ham slices."

After saying that, Dio left Bruce, who was full of doubt, and walked towards the kitchen.

As a Gotham native, a handy revolver and identification are necessities.

The discreet mode of transportation was chosen because Wayne Manor is located in the suburbs, and not having a car would waste a lot of time.

As for why ham slices are needed?

Dior turned his head and glanced at his ear out of the corner of his eye.

The six little yellow creatures were perched on his shoulder, tugging at his collar and pulling his hair, chattering away:

"Hungry!"

"Dio! Ham!"

"I'm going to die! I'm going to die!"

That's because if we don't feed the sexy pistols, they'll rebel!

"Shut up! You're so noisy!"

Dior quickened his pace, his face expressionless.

Following the directions of the servant bell on the wall, he easily found the kitchen.

Soon, a whole ham was perfectly sliced ​​into several pieces with a knife.

Six little people jumped off the shoulders and plunged into the pile of meat, eating until their faces were covered in grease.

Number 1, number 2, number 3, number 5, number 6, number 7.

Dior looked at them, and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he were smiling.

Actually, he didn't know why his stand-in skipped number 4.

Perhaps because...

"The number 4 is unlucky."

Number 1, his mouth stuffed with ham, mumbled incoherently.

"Shut up, eat your food."

This is the downside of Sexy Pistols. Sometimes, it's not a good thing that a Stand has self-awareness, but it's not a bad thing either.

such as--

"Someone's coming, Dior!"

No.1, his mouth stuffed with ham, pointed anxiously at the figure behind Dior and shouted.

Dio turned around and met Bruce's probing gaze. His eyes narrowed, and he instinctively used the cutting board behind him to block the view.

When did he arrive? Why is he walking so quietly? He clearly hasn't undergone any special training.

Dio knew very well that he hadn't let his guard down, but he also had no idea when Bruce had arrived.

"Dio, are you hungry? If you are, you can tell Alfred."

After Bruce finished speaking, he intentionally or unintentionally tried to bypass Dio and see why his foster brother needed ham slices.

Seeing this, Dio stepped forward, slightly turning his body to block Bruce's entire view:

"That's not something you need to worry about, Bruce."

Upon hearing this, Bruce temporarily suppressed the doubt in his eyes, and a warm, youthful smile returned to his face:

"Okay, I've got everything sorted out. We'll have to find an excuse to fool Alfred in a bit."

As he spoke, Bruce pulled an unmarked revolver from his pocket and handed it to his partner.

Bruce knew perfectly well that while Dio was suspicious, he was now the only one who could help find clues.

Dio stared at the revolver being handed to him, looking down at it with an unreadable expression beneath his bangs.

It has no serial number, different rifling, and a very large caliber; this is a true ghost gun.

Dio knew that there were many guns hidden in Wayne Manor, but given Alfred's personality, there was absolutely no way he would let Bruce find them.

It was only at this moment that Dio realized that Bruce Wayne in front of him had many faces, and no one could fully understand him.

The Gotham Prince in front of his classmates, the innocent young master in front of Alfred, and this silent, suspicious-looking boy in front of him...

Which one is the truth?

Or is it all an act?

"Oh."

Dio suddenly laughed, a laugh that only fellow apex predators could understand, and then shoved the revolver into his back waistband.

"Fooling Alfred is what you're best at, isn't it, Bruce?"

Upon hearing this, Bruce did not reply, nor did he delve into why Dior wanted ham slices. Instead, he turned and left cleanly and decisively.

As an exceptionally intelligent person, Bruce always knew what the people around him needed and wanted.

He always knew!

A moment later, Bruce returned and tossed the garage key to Wayne Manor over.

Dio caught the keys that were tossed to him, and then heard Bruce's calm yet slightly smug voice:

"Alfred won't be coming to see us for the next three hours. Should we take that Lamborghini?"

"Bruce, we're both only 12 years old. I can drive, but I don't have a driver's license, and neither do you."

"So if you don't want to get into trouble with anyone, then we need to drive a discreet car."

"A very low-key, very old, and very inconspicuous old car is our best choice."

Dior followed Bruce to the garage of Wayne Manor, where a series of luxury cars came into view, a wide variety and dazzling array.

Bentley, Rolls-Royce, Maybach, Lamborghini, Chevrolet Corvette, Ford Mustang—it's enough to make your head spin!

Wow.

Dior stood at the door, stunned by the rich man's happiness, and remained silent for a full three seconds.

After a long silence, he finally spoke:

"I think we should drive that Maybach, what do you think?"

Bruce was about to nod when he heard this, and immediately looked at Dior with surprise and accusation in his eyes.

What do you mean by saying we should drive a very low-key car? So I think that Maybach that costs several million is pretty good.

Is Maybach low-key?

Bruce blinked, his gaze sweeping over the array of luxury cars around him before finally settling on the "ordinary" Maybach.

Well, this car really is the most understated one in the garage.

But recalling Alfred's past teachings, Bruce's remaining rationality made him hesitate as he spoke:

"Uh, I think that's still too..."

"Stop arguing, Bruce."

Dior had already appeared in front of the Maybach and even opened the car door.

"Gotham police don't arrest or stop people who drive luxury cars."

"Let's go. Didn't you want to find out the cause of Wayne and his wife's deaths?"

Bruce's words caught in his throat. He took several deep breaths before finally gritting his teeth and getting into the Maybach.

"We definitely won't be back within three hours. Have you thought of an excuse for Alfred?"

Dior glanced at Bruce, turned the car key without hesitation, started the car, and stepped on the gas.

"That's your problem!"

"What?!!"

Bruce's eyes widened; his assessment of Dio Brando was shattered to pieces by this sudden turn of events.

"I shouldn't have trusted you, Dior!"

"Too late!"

And so, the Maybach, carrying the two young men, quietly drove out of the garage at Wayne Manor.

Target! Crime Alley!