15 Chapter-15 | An Invitation to the Trap...

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"Are you saying that after days of surveillance there, your biggest concern was... he might be stealing electricity?"

Nick Fury stood in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s office, holding a report and questioning Coulson.

Coulson was well aware that this report seemed like something hastily put together after a night of drinking, and then rushed to completion in the early morning. The conclusions written on it were only a bottle of whiskey away from gibberish.

Nick Fury took a deep breath while holding the report. His mouth opened, but he paused for a moment, clearly rendered nearly speechless.

He said, "Actually, I've never fully endorsed SHIELD agent evaluation criteria, Coulson. I believe you might be the strongest argument against those standards, aren't you?"

"Well..." Coulson awkwardly rubbed his hands and replied, "We did observe some things. We found out there might be underground tunnels beneath his clinic..."

"I should really have Nurse Jenny test you for drunk driving, Coulson," Nick Fury quipped. He continued, "Your report states, 'observed the target frequently appearing around a hundred meters from the clinic,' and your conclusion is... there might be underground tunnels under the clinic?"

"In truth, I suspect he may possess teleportation abilities," Coulson said, furrowing his brow. "But based on the cases we've encountered, teleportation always involves a moment of arrival. We've set up hundreds of miniature cameras in the vicinity, but not a single one captured anything unusual."

Nick Fury remarked, "Then add a few hundred more. He's currently very important to us, and he's the type of adversary that's hardest to deal with. Don't underestimate him..."

Meanwhile, in the Gotham University Professor's apartment, Schiller had just woken up and found himself cradling a furry creature in his arms. He looked down and saw Pikachu!

"Oh, what's going on? What time is it?" Pikachu, barely awake, couldn't even open its eyes. Schiller rubbed his eyes, wondering how this mouse had ended up with him.

Pikachu, still half-asleep, glanced around and was startled. It woke up completely and exclaimed, "Where is this?! Why did you bring me here? Are you actually a human trafficker??"

Schiller, while making the bed, replied nonchalantly, "Why don't you explain first why you're on my bed?"

"Are you serious?" Pikachu raised its voice. "Three stories up, and you only turned on the heater in your room! If I hadn't picked the lock, I would've frozen to death by now!"

"Is that so?" Schiller showed no remorse. He said, "Freezing a rat dry isn't a great idea."

"Why are you here? Where is this place?"

"As you can see, I can time-travel, so I woke up here." Schiller explained. "This place is quite dangerous, you know. If you wander around, you'll be stewed in less than three minutes."

"Psh," Pikachu made a dismissive sound. "You can time-travel? Well, I can make water splash."

Schiller wasn't lying, and Pikachu knew that. Nevertheless, being a yellow mouse that clearly looked like some genetically modified creature, it was hard for any normal person to trust it. In the eyes of Earth's heroes, non-human entities were rarely trusted. Even though Pikachu spoke like a human and had a peculiar Canadian accent, it wasn't any more trustworthy than a parrot. If it were to blab to Batman, Batman would undoubtedly stew it first. Batman didn't kill people, but he certainly didn't spare mice.

Facing non-human creatures, very few of Earth's heroes trusted them. Pikachu, despite speaking like a human and even having that odd Canadian accent, clearly looked like a genetically modified yellow rodent. Thus, gaining trust from any normal person was challenging, so Schiller wasn't worried.

While Schiller tidied up his bed, Pikachu bounced around the room, sniffing and wrinkling its little nose in disdain. "Looks like you've got some skills; this definitely isn't the same world as before."

In the morning, Schiller went to his classes with Pikachu hidden in his bag. It wasn't that he wanted to take Pikachu to class, but he was sure that if he didn't, Pikachu would find a way out on its own and get stewed.

Pikachu kept sticking its head out of the bag, and Schiller had to push it back inside several times. In the afternoon, Schiller placed the bag on the table in the counseling room and pressed Pikachu's head, saying, "Listen, even if I don't mind others seeing a strange yellow creature in my bag, you should understand what I've been telling you about superheroes. Every one of them considers 'meddling' as their life motto. Nobody will overlook researching this yellow mouse, especially..."

Schiller was in the middle of his sentence when the counseling room's door suddenly swung open, and Bruce said, "Professor, I..."

As soon as he entered, he saw his professor pressing on the head of a strange yellow creature.

Pikachu was startled and jumped into Schiller's arms. Schiller cleared his throat, glanced at Pikachu, then at Bruce, and said, holding Pikachu, "What if I told you it's a new species of albino mole?"

"I don't suppose you're planning to make up another story, are you?" Bruce crossed his arms.

Pikachu snarled at him, but Schiller covered its mouth and said, "What's the matter, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce walked closer and said, "In fact, I'm sorry... It's like this, I'd like to invite you to Wayne Manor as a guest..."

Go to Wayne Manor as a guest?

What kind of invitation is this for voluntary surrender?

Bruce appeared visibly uncomfortable. Schiller knew his true identity, so Bruce struggled with whether he should be Bruce or Batman. At this point, Batman wasn't as aloof as he would become in the future; he even actively sought cooperation with Gordon. So, Bruce was in a very conflicted state.

Schiller could sense a bit of it through his telepathic abilities. He tapped the table and said, "I can tell, Bruce, you're in a dilemma right now. Please have a seat."

"Actually, you've done well before, Bruce. Bruce is not Batman; he's just a playboy who doesn't take anything seriously. His favorite pastimes are partying and drinking, surrounded by beautiful women. Batman, on the other hand..."

Bruce sat down, his finger pressed against his temple, and he said, "I don't understand the purpose of all this. I don't think I can fool anyone."

Bruce wasn't naive; in the whole of Gotham City, only he had the wealth to afford Batman's equipment. He didn't think the criminals were fools, unaware that he was Bruce Wayne.

Moreover, just from his physique, one could deduce a lot. Bruce frolicked in the night, and he wouldn't wrap himself up tightly at certain times. It wouldn't be difficult to figure out some physical details.

Especially Schiller had seen Bruce sneaking out at night more than once, and his female companions were never the same. Even among the famous Nightingale cheerleading team, half of them had been involved with Bruce.

In fact, Schiller speculated that many of the highly intelligent villains in the comics shouldn't be completely clueless. This reasoning was not difficult, but they still pretended to be ignorant, as if they couldn't figure out who Batman really was.

"Yeah, it's not really a secret. But as long as you make it seem like a secret, it will be your weapon when necessary."

"When you show that you value a particular secret, others will think it's important to you. You try to hide it desperately, but if you reveal it at a crucial moment, it can prove your sincerity, even though it's not actually important."

Schiller was talking about Bruce's future dealings with the Justice League. To gain their trust, Batman would remove his mask—reveal a secret everyone already knew, that Batman was Bruce Wayne. But everyone would still trust Batman more because he always acted like he cared about this secret and was willing to reveal it for his teammates. Even though this secret could be easily guessed with a little thought, it didn't matter; it was about the attitude!

Bruce nodded in agreement, "For example, if some criminal wants to use this against me, I can calmly set a trap for him..."

"Alright, Mr. Wayne," Schiller looked at his wristwatch and said, "It's time for my consultation. As for your invitation, I'll consider it carefully after receiving the formal invitation."

Bruce didn't quite understand why Schiller needed to consider it carefully. In the U.S., a verbal invitation indicated it was a private visit, nothing formal—probably just having a meal together in private.

But when Schiller mentioned an invitation letter, Bruce thought maybe Schiller felt this kind of invitation wasn't formal enough, making it seem less important. So, after leaving the consultation room, he instructed his butler Alfred to prepare an invitation letter and an event.

What Bruce didn't know was that for Schiller, receiving an invitation from Batman to his home was like saying, "Would you like to voluntarily walk into a trap?" He needed a lot of psychological preparation.

Although Schiller knew that Bruce was far from being the Batman he would become later, and his two identities weren't entirely distinct yet, if it were the Batman from the comics, Bruce would just come over with a bottle of wine and introduce some beautiful women at the party, instead of acting serious and awkward.

But Schiller's stereotypical impression of Batman was too deep. He even suspected that Batman had set up this situation to obtain his DNA, which was something Batman was certainly capable of.

Also, although Bruce didn't say it, Pikachu, the yellow mouse, had definitely caught his attention.

Schiller grabbed Pikachu by the tail and lifted it up, saying, "Did you see the person who just arrived? That's the big shot in Gotham. If you want to live the good life, it's best not to offend him."

Pikachu struggled in mid-air, waving its small hands desperately. "Put me down! The guy who just came is really terrifying!"

Schiller pulled Pikachu closer by its tail and asked, "How do you know?"

"Detective's intuition!" Pikachu shouted, "You should seriously consider leaving this place. It gives me the creeps, and can't we go back to that place from yesterday? I can even tolerate you eating strawberry jam!"

Schiller scrutinized Pikachu and felt that it wasn't telling the truth.