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

The sky darkened, and the heavy rain had just stopped.

The theater district, adjacent to the fashion district, had wet streets lit up with neon lights.

This street, quiet during the day, becomes lively at night.

Groups of two or three men and women, holding umbrellas, chatted and laughed as they walked through the gilded gate.

A black Bentley slowly pulled up to the side of the road.

The pedestrians only glanced at it briefly before looking away.

There's nothing strange about it; it's just a Bentley, there are plenty of them here.

The car door opened, and a tall man got out first.

He was impeccably dressed in a suit, with strong features, but a fawning smile played on his lips as he spoke:

"Lord Dior, we've arrived!"

The sharp claws opened the long-handled black umbrella and respectfully pulled open the back door.

"Yeah?"

Dior stepped out, exhaled a puff of white breath, and habitually looked up to observe his surroundings.

This is his instinctive reaction—whenever he arrives in an unfamiliar place, he always feels unsafe if he doesn't know the surroundings well.

Before me stood a three-story building, entirely encased in red brick walls, elegant yet somewhat old-fashioned.

Above the main entrance is a blue neon light shaped like an open umbrella.

I could faintly hear classical music and the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses coming from inside.

"Oswald Nightclub"

Dior pronounced the name, a disdainful smile playing on his lips.

"That's really bad taste."

In recent days, Gotham's underworld has also undergone tremendous changes.

The Penguin betrayed Maroni, killed Fish Mooney of the Falcone family, and successfully became the second-in-command.

Even Fish Mooney's territory has fallen entirely into the Penguins' hands, making them incredibly powerful.

"snort."

Dior's eyes flickered slightly, and with a hint of anticipation, he stepped onto the nightclub's steps.

Claw followed closely behind, its eyes scanning the surroundings warily.

Today he swore that he would not let anyone hurt Lord Dio!

Anyone who dares to approach will be made to taste the power of the divine sword!

The heavy wooden door was pushed open with force, and a strong smell of alcohol wafted out.

Dior frowned; he really didn't like this smell.

Extravagant and decadent lifestyle.

That's not a good adjective.

But it doesn't matter, he's here to cause trouble.

Falcone, Lob... whoever Peter is involved in this matter, he is prepared to kill them all.

Having lived in Gotham for twelve years, Dio knew all too well the ways of the underworld.

If the other party really did deliberately cause trouble by putting Peter in Blackgate Prison, then I must not show weakness.

If he shows weakness, Peter will die inside immediately, and these people will look down on him even more.

He refused to believe that these guys hadn't found out about him; they just didn't care.

Today he'll make these guys care.

Dior concealed the disgust in his eyes and continued walking forward.

The two security guards in black suits at the door subconsciously looked down, and when they saw that the person was a twelve or thirteen-year-old blond boy, a contemptuous smile immediately appeared on their faces.

"Hey!" one of them reached out to shove Dio's shoulder. "Kid, this isn't the place—"

"Hmm?" Dio turned his head, glanced at him indifferently, and his voice turned cold. "What's wrong?"

The security guard's hand froze in mid-air, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he swallowed the rest of his sentence.

"No...it's nothing."

Dior withdrew his gaze and walked into the hall.

Crystal chandeliers, a dance floor, velvet sofas, men and women embracing and dancing the waltz.

Most of the men were pot-bellied and had thinning hair, while the women wore heavy makeup and were covered in flabby flesh.

nondescript.

This is Dior's assessment of this nightclub.

With his hands in his pockets, he walked straight across the edge of the dance floor to the phonograph, reached out, and gently removed the needle.

The music stopped abruptly.

The entire hall fell silent instantly.

Dozens of eyes turned to the audacious blond boy at the same time, some with anger, some with curiosity, and some with contempt.

Dior stood beside the gramophone, his face expressionless as he surveyed the entire room.

Claws stood silently behind him, observing each person who approached without making a sound.

"Hey kid!"

A bald, muscular man wearing a tight vest pushed his way out of the crowd and shouted.

He was a henchman in this establishment, so naturally he had to step forward immediately when someone came looking for trouble.

Otherwise, that lame little monster on the second floor who walks like a penguin would definitely kill him!

The bald, burly man slammed his fist on the table:

"Did your dad send you? Hmm? Didn't you notice we were dancing?"

"I'm looking for Gideon Loeb."

Upon hearing this, a middle-aged man with glasses and deep-set eyes looked over from the bar not far away.

After seeing who it was, he turned away without making a sound.

"We don't have Lob here."

The bald, burly man laughed, turned to his companions behind him, waved, and said sneer:

"Oh, I get it! It's your mom here, isn't it? Hahahaha!"

Several thugs around them also burst out laughing.

The bald, burly man pointed at Dior, laughing so hard he could barely breathe:

"Where is this boy's mother? I want to dance with her!"

"I'm going to make his mom waltz with me, right in front of this kid!"

Upon hearing this, Dior's face darkened completely.

He didn't move, but merely turned his head slightly and glanced at Claw.

"You know what to do, right?"

Without saying a word, Claw stepped out from behind Dior and stood opposite the bald, muscular man.

The burly man looked down at the man who was half a head shorter than him, scoffed disdainfully, and reached out to shove him away—

A flash of cold light.

Claw had somehow drawn the kitchen knife from his waist, and with a swift movement, the knife fell.

*smack*

A large, rough hand fell onto the marble floor.

Fresh blood gushed out from the cut!

"ah-------!!!"

The bald, burly man clutched his wrist, his body trembling as he knelt on the ground.

The entire hall fell completely silent.

Immediately following was the sound of a gun being drawn.

Several guns were pointed at the seated blond boy and the claws not far away.

Facing several guns at the same time, Dio acted as if nothing was wrong, surveying the entire scene.

"You can continue jumping after I find the person, okay?"

No one answered.

But just then, the crowd parted in the middle.

A man with a hooked nose, wearing a purple suit, and hair that looked like it had been licked by a dog, walked down the stairs.

He walked with a limp, like a chubby penguin.

Oswald Copport.

Penguin.

[Key figure: Oswald Copport, the Penguin]

The penguin walked up to Dio, looked him up and down, and smiled unexpectedly.

"Dio Brando, the adopted son of the Wayne family, I've heard so much about you. I wonder what my men have done to offend you?"

"It's okay, I've already forgiven him."

Dior glanced at the thug with great magnanimity and smiled generously.

"As a token of my apology, I will call an ambulance for him and take him to a Wayne-affiliated hospital for the best possible treatment."

Of course, he didn't say he would pay for the other party.

The penguin gave Dior a deep look and smiled.

That's fantastic.

"He deserves to be taught a lesson for his foul mouth."

He turned and walked towards the stairs, his face instantly darkening.

"Come with me, let's go upstairs and talk."

Upon hearing this, the middle-aged man sitting in the corner also stood up and walked to the penguin's side.

He is Lob, the commissioner of the Gotham Police Department and also Gotham's biggest corrupt cop, holding dirt on almost all police officers.

"Young Master Dior."

"Luo is the chief."

Dior exchanged a glance with the other person and followed the penguin toward the enclosed second floor.

He wanted to see what kind of nonsense the other party could spout.