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

"Fortunately, nothing serious has happened to my body."

Dior used the ripples to sense his body inside and out, and breathed a sigh of relief after confirming that there was nothing wrong with him.

Sure enough, for Stand users, as long as it's not a fatal wound, bleeding is nothing.

Moreover, he has now even regained his mobility and his body doesn't hurt much anymore.

The next steps require handling each matter one by one.

Let's deal with Peter first, then we can deal with Gallagher.

As for the Indian Mountains....

Dior glanced at Bruce, who was on the phone inside the room, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

Let that young master take the spotlight.

"Claw, come with me."

"yes!"

-----------------

Blackgate Prison is located on a remote island at the southern tip of Gotham City.

In the smog, moss climbed all over the dark gray concrete wall.

In order to see Peter, Dio spent twenty minutes smoothing things over and another ten minutes filling out forms before he was allowed into the visiting area.

Peter sat opposite me through the bulletproof glass, and seemed to have lost even more weight in just half a day.

Dio looked at the bruises around his eyes and the bandages on his face, and took a deep breath.

"I'll get you out of here, don't worry."

He planned to have Peter diagnosed with mental illness so he could be transferred to Arkham.

After all, that's a Wayne family project, so it's easier for them to talk to people and let them go.

Blackgate Prison has been infiltrated by various forces, with the Falcone family in charge. The Wayne family disdains to get involved in such a despicable place, so if Dio wants to get people out of there, he must get the approval of the "in charge," otherwise there will be many difficulties.

"It's alright, boss."

Peter met the other person and grinned, feigning nonchalance.

"I knew you would come, but you don't need to spend money to get me out of here. I can manage on my own."

Dio didn't reply, he just looked at him.

"What crime did they accuse you of?"

Peter felt uncomfortable being stared at, so he lowered his head, looking somewhat guilty.

Answer my question.

At this point, Dior had already realized that something was wrong.

"Theft, illegal use of a vehicle."

Peter hesitated for a long time before muttering out the truth:

"I didn't steal it, I just borrowed a car and drove it for a day."

"But the car owner denied it, saying I stole it. What can I do? I'm from the East District."

Isn't that stealing?!

Dior was silent for a few seconds. The money he gave him was more than enough to buy a car.

He considered his words carefully before speaking:

"Why did you steal, oh, borrow a car?"

"...I took my girlfriend to the movies."

Meeting the disappointed look in the other person's eyes, Peter's lips moved twice, and finally he spoke, his voice very soft:

"She's a good girl, unlike me. I couldn't let her take the bus, so I borrowed a car."

"Actually, I was planning to return it, but the police came to my door, and they didn't trust me."

Dior tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table.

How much money does your family owe?

Peter looked up in surprise.

He didn't ask Dio how he knew, but just shook his head with a wry smile.

"After my uncle was laid off, our family has been struggling to make ends meet."

"My aunt works two jobs, and I also have a stall at the flea market, but it's still not enough."

"Later, my uncle fell ill and borrowed money from loan sharks... The interest compounded, and he couldn't pay it back."

Dior's expression grew increasingly silent, and finally he could only utter a curt sentence:

"So you used most of the money I gave you to pay off your loans?"

"Um."

"By the way, boss, I don't want to kill anymore. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

Peter lowered his head in shame and silently clenched his fists.

"Thanks to the Wayne family's subsidies, I don't have to pay for food and lodging here. The money saved is enough for my aunt to live on."

Dio didn't say anything; in fact, he didn't know what to say either.

Everyone has their own choices, and if Peter's choice is to stay inside, then he will respect the other person's choice.

"Is this your choice?"

"Boss."

Peter on the other side of the glass looked up, suddenly smiled, but his eyes were bloodshot:

"I've always remembered the Spider-Man story you told me."

"With great power comes great responsibility. But I can't even save my own family."

"I've sent the money you gave me back. My aunt said it's enough to pay me back for six months. Thank you."

"And he was only sentenced to six years."

Peter raised his finger and continued talking incessantly, as if he wanted to say everything he had to say in his life:

"Boss, don't worry, I won't die here like my grandfather."

"At that time, my grandfather did not allow my father and I to visit him, but we came anyway."

"As a result, he became different, to the point that he was unrecognizable."

His eyes were resolute, and his face held an optimism that Dior had never seen before.

"I don't want to end up like that! No! I won't die here!"

"Is this your choice?"

Dior's voice turned cold, and his eyes showed deep disappointment:

Why?

Peter shook his head firmly, his eyes fixed on Dio:

"You have a lot to do out there. I can't help you, but I don't want to be a burden to you."

"Just think of it as... I went to pursue further studies. When I come out in six years, I'll still be able to help you."

"you--"

"Visiting time is here." The prison guard's voice came from the doorway.

Dior took a deep breath, stood up, and ultimately just nodded.

"I will take care of your uncle and aunt, Peter."

Peter simply smiled, stood up as well, but waved:

"Boss, take care."

He turned around and followed the prison guard out without looking back.

Dior stood in front of the glass, watching the thin figure disappear behind the iron gate.

so similar.

Another flag is raised.

How is this any different from a will?

During the prison visit just now, it was almost entirely Peter talking.

It's like a person saying everything they want to say before they die.

Something's wrong, something's very wrong.

It started raining again in Gotham. Dio walked out of the prison in the rain, still looking puzzled.

Claw walked over quickly with an umbrella and asked with concern.

"Sir, you don't seem to be in a good mood."

"Hmm, I don't understand."

Dio couldn't understand it at all, but he wasn't going to think about it anymore.

Peter's thought process is truly bizarre.

Besides, I'm the boss, why should I listen to my underlings? Just because he says he can't say it doesn't mean he can't say it.

If Peter really stays in there for six years, his intelligence network in Gotham will be completely paralyzed.

That would mean having to do it yourself every time you want to look something up, which would be too much trouble.

Is Luoyang a long-term investment?

Are you one of Gallevan's or the Owl's?

Let me see.

Dio remembered what Harvey had said that morning, took out his phone, and dialed the other party's number.

"Harvey, where does Chief Lo from your precinct usually like to hang out?"

"Oh, it's Dior."

Harvey's voice sounded sleepy, but he immediately perked up after hearing the question.

"Wait, what did you say? Lob?"

"NO! NO! NO! Don't go looking for him!"

"You just need to tell me where it is, and in exchange, I'll get your dirt on you from him."

On the other end of the phone, Harvey remained silent for a long time before finally uttering:

"Oswald Nightclub"

"Penguin territory."