```
A withered hand covered in lines took a black and white photocopy from the hands of a uniformed prosecutor's office staff member. He turned the paper around in his hands, rubbed the edges between his fingers, and wiped his nose with one hand, before raising the muscles on either side of his nostrils and squinting to read the content.
"Mental illness... Aggressiveness... Violent behavior... Hospital treatment... Hahahahaha..."
Suddenly, he burst into hysterical laughter. A nearby police officer rapped the window with his baton, but the laughter did not diminish. Eventually, the officer did nothing.
Because he knew well that the man causing a commotion was an absolute lunatic, and he seemed to have some murky relationship with Mob Boss Falcone. Both of their psychiatric evaluation reports were released together, and it wasn't worth the trouble to provoke him.
After a while, a lawyer dressed in a suit came over and approached the police officer with a smile on his face. However, as he reached the railing, his face was full of impatience.
"The assessment results are out, so let's get going," the lawyer gestured with his hand and then lowered his voice to say, "There are reporters at the door; don't forget what you promised us."
The grim-faced man said nothing, just crumpled the evaluation report into a ball and held it in front of him with both hands.
Soon a police officer came to open the cell door, and the man in handcuffs was quickly led out. As soon as he stepped through the door, flashbulbs completely replaced daylight, casting his face in a pallid light.
He let his mouth droop and eyes sag, looking old and weary as he limped towards the prison transport, which slowly drove away in one direction.
Sitting silently in the prison van, he continually stroked the paper ball in his hand. His bloodshot eyes did not show the slightest sign of chaos or insanity, only a calmness that did not fit his wild appearance.
As the vehicle rounded a corner, the man furrowed his brows. He realized that this did not seem to be the route to his intended destination, so he turned and began frantically pounding the bars with his hands.
"Stop banging," said the lawyer in the passenger seat. "Arkham Insane Asylum is currently undergoing renovations. We have to make a temporary stay at Otis Psychiatric Treatment Center next door, and then you can transfer to a long-term stay at Arkham Insane Asylum."
The man's face grew darker, but he eventually snorted and said nothing.
In the Bat's office, he stood, hands propped on the desk, staring at a massive design blueprint laying on his desk, marking it up with a pen, occasionally stopping to ponder deeply, then resuming his hunched-over work.
Suddently his phone rang. After picking up, there was only a somewhat immature but strong call, "Where are you?!!"
Bat recognized the voice as Aisha's and said with a smile into the phone, "I'm working; I'll be back soon."
"I'll wait for you."
After he hung up, Bat put down his phone and his smile had not yet faded. Seeing his own expression reflected on the marble surface, he reached out to rub his face.
At that moment, the very young Bruce Wayne suddenly felt a strong urge to start a family.
In the performance hall of the Iceberg Shopping Center, Dick zipped across, followed by Jason, who zipped after him. When Tim tried to zip across as well, he was snagged by the back of his collar by Bruce and dumped onto the floor.
"Why are you only grabbing me! Bruce! Let me go!" Tim struggled on the ground like a tumbling mole until Bruce lifted him up and said, "Where are you guys running off to? Didn't I tell you it's dangerous?"
"Backstage, we're going to get autographs. Didn't you hear the announcement just now? The singers have arrived; I need to get all their signatures. When school starts, my classmates will be so jealous!"
Bruce sighed and looked back. They were sitting in VIP seats, so he wasn't worried about finding a place, but Cobblepot might come by for a visit, and Bruce was concerned he wouldn't find them.
Checking the time, Bruce figured Cobblepot wouldn't arrive so early. So he patted Tim's back and said, "Let's go then; I'll take you guys. Which poster do you want signed?"
Bruce had just left with the three kids when Cobblepot arrived at their seats. Looking left and right and not seeing Bruce, he did, however, spot another familiar face.
"Professor, what brings you here?"
"I'm not the Professor." Shiller looked up at Cobblepot and said, "Oh, it's you. How's your mother doing? Any adverse reactions after the medication switch?"
Cobblepot realized this must be Shiller with a switched personality trait, but how did this personality know about his mother's new medication?
"It's always been me who write prescriptions for you and your mother," Shiller said. "Arrogant hasn't issued prescriptions for a while, and without a review, it's better if I handle it."
"It's always been you?"
Shiller thought for a moment and then said, "No, those basic treatments for schizophrenia were prescribed by Arrogant, but the targeted medication for somatization was prescribed by me."
Cobblepot stepped forward and shook hands with Shiller, only then realizing that Shiller was braiding Harley's hair. Harley, clearly impatient, was growling in a tone that was gradually approaching the roar of a motorcycle.
"Don't go." Shiller, with quick reflexes, grabbed Harley's shoulder, who was about to dash off, completing the last braid and then saying, "You better behave, or I'll have Barry bring you back."
"You're more of a nag than the other you." Harley turned around, holding her braid, and said, "Can I go backstage now? I bet that bunch of stupid bats are excited about getting autographs. I'll capture every single one of their faces and hang it on the school bulletin board."
"Go ahead." Shiller let her go, and Harley and Barry disappeared in a flash. Cobblepot sat down next to Shiller.
Looking up at the ceiling, Shiller commented, "Is this your mall? It's not bad."
"Thank you, Doctor. I didn't expect you to come to the concert. Would you like me to arrange a VIP seat for you?"
```
"No need, I'm just dropping off Barry and Halley, and I might not even stay for the whole thing..."
Just then, Bruce had come out from backstage and was surprised to see Shiller next to Cobblepot, his eyes widening.
When Cobblepot left to come his way, Bruce approached him first and said, "I just checked the program list, everything looks good, but the opening atmosphere doesn't seem very lively. Why not move one of the rock songs from later in the schedule to the front to warm up the crowd?"
"Is that so?" Cobblepot smiled and said, "I'm not very knowledgeable about music, that was arranged by my manager."
"How old is he?"
"He should be under 50 this year."
Bruce shook his head and said, "The most famous singer at today's concert is 2pac, and most people are here for him. These young folks like excitement, and three consecutive ballads will only make them drowsy."
"I think you make sense, I'll call them to revise the program. The opening should indeed be more lively, and that will also make filming easier."
The performance started soon after, and as soon as the rock instruments were carried onto the stage, a cheer erupted from below. When the rock band stepped onto the stage, the cheering was like the howling of ghosts and wolves, with everyone shouting at the top of their lungs.
With a buzz, followed by a couple of snaps, then came the powerful beats of heavy metal rock, and the young people below began to sway to the rhythm. Shiller, however, rubbed his temples, stood up from his seat, and turned to leave, finding that rock music as an art form was still a bit too avant-garde for him at any time.
Watching Shiller's departing figure, Bruce sighed with relief. As long as Shiller wasn't around, no matter how many assassins were here, no horrible murders would occur.
The kids were having a wild time, imitating the teens in movies dancing and screaming at the disco, and if Thomas were here, he'd probably be sent to the hospital in frustration, but Bruce didn't care, just making sure they were staying hydrated.
Selina was a guest performer, and soon it was her turn to sing. She sang a ballad, which after the rock, gave everyone time to breathe and rest, and most of the audience was quite captivated.
After her performance, she hadn't even changed clothes before she came to find Bruce. The people in the back row saw the two of them embracing and let out even more piercing screams, heating up the atmosphere further.
One song followed another, most of them being singers with some fame on the East Coast, not to be underestimated in their talent. Whether it was the smooth vocal runs or sky-high notes, everyone felt the concert was well worth attending.
The concert atmosphere grew hotter and hotter. When the sentimental song's last note ended, the host's high-pitched voice rose again, and when he shouted out that name, the whole venue erupted.
The melodious prelude sounded, and following the drumbeat, the whole audience chanted his name—"2Pac!"
"... Their eyes are saying, 'Oh man, you're really crazy!' This is what I mean by 'the whole place in an uproar'!"
The moment the chorus melody sounded, the cheers nearly blew the roof off the venue. Everyone was wildly screaming, dancing, and waving their arms for the rap Emperor from the West Coast.
Bruce nodded gently to the rhythm of the music, quite liking the lyrics of the song, especially the parts that described the expressions on people's faces, which sounded like a sad but dark humor, very much in Gotham's style. Plus, Jack said it was his favorite part too.
But just then, Bruce suddenly noticed someone twirling faster than the others, seemingly dancing casually, but actually edging closer to the concert stage with every step.
Seeing him quickly make it to the front row, Bruce, who was seated at the very front, immediately stood up.
Everyone around him looked his way, and he realized his movement might have been a bit too abrupt, but Bruce couldn't help feeling anxious with all three kids sitting right by his side.
Luckily, at that moment, 2Pac walked to the very front of the stage, bent down to do high-fives with the audience, and Bruce, pretending to be an enthusiastic fan, caught his fingers during the high-five and mouthed a message to him.
2Pac was slightly taken aback but reacted quickly, pulling his hand back and swiftly walking towards the back of the stage. But in the second after he turned, a loud bang sounded, and 2Pac fell to the ground.
Jason and Dick both shot up, pointing at 2Pac on stage and screaming, but Tim's attention was on Bruce's hand.
"Did you fire the shot?"
"Shh..."
Within two seconds, more than a dozen figures in red and blue swooped onto the stage, quickly sealing it off tight, leaving no way through.
"Who? Who fired the shot?!"
"Danger! Danger! Evacuate the civilians!!"
"You two go down and keep order, you two go carry the injured, the rest of you come with me to block the entrance, don't let the killer escape!"
Deathstroke and Deadpool, caught halfway into their revelry, looked confused.
What's going on? An assassin?
In an instant, they were surrounded by Spider Man, leaving no way out.
"Wade, get out of the way! Your cousin fired a shot!!"