Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

He climbed over the wall and entered the police station.

The monitor channel built into the headset is faithfully relaying the Gotham Weather Channel to him, and the well-known local weatherman, Travie, said in his characteristic half-dead tone: "It is reported that tonight's rainstorm will be the heaviest in Gotham's 30-year history. The government has taken flood control measures in the city, please go home immediately, and don’t go out unless there is an accident.”

On the other hand, Alfred, his butler, made a joke with English humour: "He probably didn't count the homeless when he said that, Mr. Bruce."

The rain swept across his visor, and after several replacements, he had abandoned the visor and switched to a visor made of a certain high-density material, which was integrally formed, convenient and comfortable. His face was stamped and he had to miss the next day's board.

"Travi hates homeless people, you should know that, Alfred. After all, his wife was killed by a homeless man."

"Perhaps you should correct your wording... A homeless man who was bought by his colleague, isn't the case over? His colleague wants to make him a scapegoat by buying a murderer to kill him. Lost in the competition for the position."

Batman didn't answer again, he had gone deep inside the police station. The GCPD officers have a good relationship with him, but he still doesn't want anyone to find out he's here, at least not tonight.

If Gordon found out, he wouldn't be happy about it.

Batman looked up at the surveillance camera overhead and thought.

He came all the way to the old filing room, which the Gotham Police Department rebuilt once in 1998, and has since ditched paper filings in favor of electronic filings. But those yellowed papers still exist inside the police station. In a sense, those documents that record countless cases are Gotham history from another perspective.

After all, crime has never been inseparable here.

"With all due respect, Mr. Bruce, you can contact Director Gordon and ask him to check the information for you. Besides, I don't think a case that happened yesterday has anything to do with cases that happened before 1998."

"Gordon is cooperating with us, but that doesn't mean he's willing to give me everything for inspection. The last time I broke into the police station and copied a copy of the electronic file they kept on their computer, he was very angry— And, Alfred, I remember Sherlock Holmes was an English detective?"

"Yes, why did you suddenly mention that gentleman?"

"Isn't Sherlock Holmes famous? First of all, all impossible conclusions must be ruled out, and the rest, however bizarre and implausible, must also be irrefutable facts."

"You mean...?"

"Yes, that's what you think." Batman replied gloomily, withdrawing his lock-picking hand, and with a soft click, he opened the door to the archives. It was raining loudly outside the window, and from time to time there was a loud roar of thunder.

The things in front of him were very messy. The whole room was full of filing cabinets, some closed and some open. Some documents are even scattered on the ground. This is as it should be, if they are all put together in different categories, he will be surprised.

Batman came to the first cabinet and reached out to open a drawer. The label on the document told him that it was all the eucalyptus that happened in August 1964, and with a rough swipe of his finger, forty-seven.

The number sank in his heart—forty-seven, just one month... It seems that crime is indeed some kind of tradition in Gotham.

"Boom—!"

Huge thunder resounded throughout Gotham, and the police station was no exception. He looked sideways at the window, and lightning lit up the archives room. The thunder sounded like some kind of foreshadowing, and a man's voice sounded right behind him: "Oh, a thief, should I call the police?"

Batman put down the file, his body tensed. His right hand hangs down naturally, and under the cover of the cloak, the two Batarangs have been taken out of the belt. He has recorded the voiceprints of all police officers in the entire police station, but the voiceprint of the man who spoke just now has not been successfully compared with any records in the database.

He turned around at lightning speed, raised his right hand, and the almost instinctive conditioned reflex brought about by years of training made him immediately throw the dart. He avoided the key point, but it was definitely enough for the man to drink a pot, but things did not develop as he expected.

The two darts were easily grasped by one hand, their sharp edges did not cause any damage to that hand, on the contrary, these darts, which even he had to hold in a special way, were in that hand. As gentle as a lover.

They softened, as if in a forge, heated by high heat. It gradually transformed from metal to liquid, and the silver liquid gradually transformed into a silver metal bat in the palm of that hand.

"Boom—!"

There was thunder again, and lightning flashed across the window again, illuminating the man's face, an incredibly handsome oriental face. At this time, he was smiling and his eyes were full of scrutiny.

"First meeting, well, for you," he said to himself. "But we've met many times, Batman—no, maybe I should say that, Bruce Wayne?"

He threw the metal bat out, impartially, and just rotated back to Batman's feet, lying on the ground like a note.

"Who are you?"

The man didn't answer his question, but clapped his hands. With this action, the file room suddenly became brighter, but it was not the light bulbs above their heads that had not been replaced for more than ten years, but a group of white light spots that appeared at an unknown time.

"Good question, who am I?"

The man moved his fingers, and a wooden chair placed behind Batman flew over, the dust on it floated up, and the dirty traces left by time all disappeared. The chair was restored to its brand-new appearance. He sat on it and asked with a smile, "Who do you think I am?"

Alfred's voice sounded in his ears: "I can't find any information about him, sir. It seems that the Internet is not omnipotent, do I need to inform the Justice League? Mr. Hal should be on duty today. "

"Forget it, Mr. Alfred, Mr. Hal is talking on the phone with his girlfriend at the moment. I don't think it's an English gentleman to disturb others at such a time."

The man took the lead and answered his butler instead of Batman. Immediately afterwards, he said, "Can you please make me a cup of tea? Black tea, more sugar, and the right amount of milk. I prefer less hot ones, thank you."

"...Master Bruce, did your headphones switch to sound mode?"

Batman turned off his headphones with a deadpan expression, the butler's piercing sense of humour wasn't a good thing at a time like this - not a good thing for him, the man was ridiculously overjoyed.

"Okay, I'm not kidding you, Bruce. Then, let's introduce myself formally."

The man stood up and stretched out a hand: "He Shenyan, a mage."

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

Wayne's house.

He Shenyan drank the black tea leisurely. Alfred's tea seemed to be some kind of weird universal rule of the multiverse. No matter the universe, his tea is always so mellow and delicious - of course, this may also have something to do with the expensive tea the Wayne family chooses.

The butler in an elegant three-piece suit stood aside, wearing white gloves, his moustache and sparse hair were neatly combed, and his demeanor was impeccable. However, this was not the case for the man sitting opposite He Shenyan.

He threw the visor on the table, and the rain was dripping down the whole body, soaking the wooden floor with a long history. He was staring at the mage, and that expression had to be described... well, he ate a large piece of **** for dinner.

"Thank you for the tea, Mr. Alfred."

"Thank you for the compliment, it's just a matter of share."

The housekeeper bowed slightly, and took a beautiful teapot from the sign held in his left hand: "Another cup? I deliberately calculated the temperature, and now it should be just enough to be eaten."

"It's troublesome."

With a smile, He Shenyan leaned back so that the housekeeper could add tea for him. Bruce Wayne's face became more and more bad, and the tea poured into the teacup from the spout, and the clatter matched the sound of the rainstorm outside the window. He asked: "These teas are all asking for money... Mage ,do you know?"

"Ah, your sense of humor is much better than the other two Batmen I know."

"Multiverse?"

Bruce Wayne seemed to have expected it long ago. He neither denied nor questioned what He Shenyan said, but put his hands under his nose in a tower shape, and then leaned back on the chair: "I'm curious about other universes. Are all Batman Bruce Wayne?"

"According to probability, this is impossible." The mage shrugged. "But I can't answer your question. Counting you, I've only met three Batman, and one of them is even a clone of you."

Bruce Wayne frowned. "Clone?"

"You in that universe cloned a lot of yourself to prepare for a rainy day, and then unfortunately died in a battle, and his clone appeared. However, that you seems to be lacking in technology. The clone he created is in Physiologically born with a defect and only a few months of life."

"The clones killed the Joker before he died, once and for all—by the way, the Joker in that universe was so unhappy about your death that he pre-empted all the other lunatics in Gotham."

He Shenyan grinned: "How about it, did you get some inspiration from it?"

This Bruce Wayne was older than the two he had met before, in his forties, with a stubby beard and deep eyes. Hearing the mage's words, he just shook his head calmly: "This kind of thing won't happen in my Gotham."

"Yes, Mr. Mage. Mr. Bruce arrested all those crazy men in fancy clothes three years ago, and they were tried by the law one by one. I have to say that Gotham still retains the death penalty is really a thing. Good thing. As for now, Gotham still has an endless stream of gangsters, but those terrible lunatics are gone."

Now, He Shenyan was really surprised.

"It seems that you are not the same as them." The mage commented. "However, what about the gangsters?"

This middle-aged man's version of Bruce Wayne leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyebrows slightly tiredly. For some reason, he couldn't be wary of this man who suddenly appeared, and he accepted the parallel universe theory he said: "Gotham's special circumstances are due to the special circumstances, and I'm already working hard to improve this aspect."

"Wayne Enterprises provided Gotham with 120,000 jobs last year. Most of them were manual labor, and the well-established welfare system and low education requirements gave those who used to only go to the gang to work hard. There are other options. By the end of the year, Gotham will have three new public schools...and I'm thinking of running for mayor myself."

"Fairy Wood"

Bruce Wayne yawned: "Some things can only be done by politicians, and while I don't think it's a good job, my butler convinced me."

He pointed to Alfred, who was standing aside, and the thin-haired old man smiled a little embarrassedly: "I just think that Mayor Wayne sounds safer than a caped fighter who haunts all day and night. , isn't it?"

"Maybe." Bruce Wayne nodded noncommittally. "But whether it's Batman or Mayor Wayne, there's a lot of people who want my life, don't they?"

It's so interesting, a very different individual from other Batman, a rare individual with normal thinking... Maybe this is the reason why he will die in the first place? After all, if he doesn't die, Gotham is destined to get better little by little, running counter to the desire of the creator goddess to make everyone crazy.

"Then, let's talk about you."

Bruce Wayne raised a hand and made a gesture: "You know who I am, know my butler, and look familiar to us. And it doesn't even exist in this world. Whatever. No country's database or surveillance footage found you. I guess it fits perfectly with what Sherlock Holmes said."

He said with deep eyes: "It seems that the parallel universe is real... So, what's the matter with you, a mage who can travel through parallel universes at will?"

"save the world."

The scene was cold for a moment, and Alfred's expression changed to a kind of stunned. And Bruce Wayne, he was surprised, but not suspicious. Instead, he quickly began to think.

"Alien invasion? Nuclear war? Or natural climate change? Comet hitting Earth?" "No, the green light is stationed on Earth. If aliens really plan to invade Earth, they have to pass the green light first."

"Nuclear war is even more impossible. Superman will prevent all elements of human civil war. He dismantled all the nuclear warheads in the world seven years ago, and the US government has strongly condemned him for a year...  ...Natural climate change is impossible, the superhuman bastion of loneliness is constantly monitoring the planet's climate change, and we have made progress on how to stop global warming."

"You can stop your guesswork for a while, Bruce. I'll tell you the truth. In fact, the destruction of the world begins with the death of a man."

"Who?"

"you."

Facing the surprised eyes of the housekeeper and Bruce, He Shenyan took another sip of black tea: "Before I knew what you did, I was still thinking about why you are so special. You can even start a series of chains because of your death. Incident, now, I understand."

"You are the beginning, Bruce."

"what?"

"You are the beginning." He Shenyan repeated. "You are the key to making the world a better place... From you, Batman's fortunes have been reversed, and from you, Batman has escaped his destiny. He no longer has to put himself Time wasted fighting crazy psychic criminals over and over again."

"You fix them, you're making Gotham better... For normal people, that's very good. But for some other people, it's unacceptable."

"What the **** are you talking about?"

"Just don't understand, Bruce Wayne."

He Shenyan looked at him, put down the black tea, pushed away the chair and stood up.

The torrential rain outside the window continued, the wind howled, the thunder rolled, and the atmosphere in the house was almost stagnant. He Shenyan came to the window, the floor-to-ceiling window was pushed open by him, and the rain tried to pour in, but was blocked by an invisible barrier. He stretched out his hand, fished a handful in the rain, then pulled it back—a transparent blade was pulled out of the rain just like that.

He turned, the blade raised, and pointed to Bruce Wayne, who was sitting in the main seat. A flash of lightning flashed just in time, illuminating the room and illuminating everyone's faces.

He Shenyan was calm and terrifying, with no expression on his face.

Alfred's expression was gradually changing to panic, and judging from his actions, he seemed to want to run over to stand in front of his master.

And Bruce Wayne...he narrowed his eyes, staring straight ahead of him with a seriousness he had never seen before—to be exact, a shadow in front of him.

"Alfred, get out of the way!" He shouted angrily, lifted the table, and quickly left the place. There was a loud noise, and the transparent blade cut through the table. He rolled aside with Alfred in his arms. Both of them heard some kind of strange sound, like a knife slicing through the cowhide, and then there was an inhuman sound. screams.

"what happened?"

The old man asked uneasy questions in his arms. At this time, Bruce realized that his weight was so light... Alfred was seventy years old this year. He pursed his lips and stood up from the ground. The butler stood behind him and smoothed the cloak for him. In front of them, in addition to the broken dining table and teacup, there was also the corpse of a monster.

And the stench of blood spilled all over the place.

"She moves really fast." He Shenyan smiled. "Meet your killer, Bruce—ah, he's so ugly."

Bruce agreed with him.

That monster has slender limbs, and the proportions are exaggerated. Everyone will feel disgust and fear at the first moment of seeing this thing. It has bat-like ears that stand up high, ferocious and sharp canine teeth, pale skin, and nothing in the eye sockets, but there is no sign that the eyeball has been removed, as if it was born that way.

"This thing is coming to kill me? Who ordered it?"

He Shenyan let go, and the long sword fell to the ground, turning into a pool of rain. He patted his robe and said, "Good question, you always seem to get the point... Tell me, Bruce, everyone has a mom, right?"

"...Physiologically, yes."

"Well, yes. Then, since you can accept the theory of parallel universes, why not take a longer view? Just imagine, the world is not born naturally..."

After only a brief moment of silence, Bruce Wayne shrank and exclaimed, "You mean—"

"—Ha, but don't say it."

With a mysterious smile, He Shenyan raised a finger, motioning him to shut his mouth: "I like talking to smart people, but, sometimes, silence is a better choice."

Bruce's face seemed to have lost all blood and turned pale in an instant. He is not religious, and the sins he has seen over the years cannot be explained by religious texts. However, just now, the speculation he made made him tremble.

"You mean, God is going to kill me?"

He gave a wry smile, made a little joke with a sense of humour unlike any Batman, and even referred to the real culprit by another name.

The wizard stretched and replied lazily, "Well, God, Jesus, Buddha... whatever you want to call it. So, Batman."

He suddenly called him by another name: "Are you ready?"

"what?"

He Shenyan said softly, "Disobeying the gods."

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

At one o'clock in the morning, Clark Kent was still working overtime at home. It's unusual, he's done a great job at his job and hasn't done overtime for years. But today is an exception, an unprecedented rainstorm hit Gotham, causing very heavy damage. Clark felt the matter should be reported.

—Anyway, even if he doesn’t write tonight, his boss Perry will probably run to his desk tomorrow morning and let him work overtime for two hours to write one. Might as well write it tonight.

He did not choose a convenient and fast laptop, but held an old pen and wrote seriously on the paper. The pen was a gift from his father when he was admitted to college, and the black barrel had faded over the years. But Clark still liked it, and because of that, he was an outlier.

Perry complained more than once, and he only had to read it when someone handed it to him. But Clark Kent's manuscript, he not only read it, but also had to type it into an electronic file. Thinking of this, a smile appeared on Clark's face.

Ah, the Daily Planet, the Metropolis...good days.

The door behind him was gently pushed open, and a woman put her arms around his shoulders and neck softly, whispering in his ear, "Aren't you going to sleep yet, hero?"

"I'm still working, Louise."

"It's one o'clock in the morning...I'm expecting you to play with me tonight."

Clark coughed so badly that he nearly fell off his chair. Since they got married, Louise has become more daring. Sometimes she leaves work early, and even puts on very daring clothes at home to wait for him to come home. Clark had a headache about it - did he like it? certainly!

But...he's not just Clark Kent.

His wife was clearly unhappy with his reaction, and her arms were wrapped tighter, like some kind of snake. She leaned against Clark's ear, exhaling like blue, her voice was lazy: "Look, the Metropolis tonight doesn't need you to go out and fight for justice... The manuscript is half written, right? Why don't you go to bed now? ,hero?"

Clark could feel her index finger circling his pectoral muscles, and he tried to tighten his face in a way he didn't take pleasure in his own grief: "I beg your pardon, Louise, I have to get the job done. ...Wait, someone rings the doorbell."

His voice fell, and the dingdong sound rang out. Louise Lane grumbled irritably with a swear word, followed by a complaint typical of a thirty-year-old woman: "Who the **** is going to ring the doorbell at one o'clock in the middle of the night?!"

"...you'd better go to bed and rest, Louise." Clark soothed her in a low voice. "I'll take care of it, okay?"

By the time he finally coaxed his wife into bed, the doorbell rang three times. Clark usually doesn't actively use his superpowers in life, but he is all too familiar with the heartbeat of the man standing outside the door. Before the door is opened, he has already begun to smile.

He opens the door.

"Hey, Bruce. Although I'm glad you're finally willing to visit me, it's one o'clock in the morning..." he said tactfully. "And Louise is very angry. If there is anything, you can whisper to me."

Bruce Wayne in a black suit tilted his head and glanced at his home with a smile: "Very good."

"what?"

Clark asked in confusion. His question was answered the next second—in violent form.

That Bruce Wayne raised his hand, and his arm that belonged to a human was alienated into a straight metal blade in an instant, stabbing towards Clark's chest at an extremely fast speed.

Superman's complexion sank, and all his doubts disappeared at this moment. He raised his hand, and the sharp metal didn't cause any damage to his skin, instead it shattered a little bit in the five fingers that were gradually closing.

Seeing this, the creature with the appearance of Bruce Wayne who even had the same heartbeat as him laughed even more happily. The exaggeration was disgusting, the gums and the yellow and sharp teeth were completely exposed, and he let out a small, sharp laughter from his throat, and even bent over with laughter.

Clark just looked at him coldly, then held out his hand. The power and speed belonging to the Kryptonian were brought to the limit in an instant, but in just one second, he brought this thing to a height of 10,000 meters.

The cold wind was howling, and the corners of his thin shirt were blown.

"What are you?" Clark asked seriously.

"Can't you see for yourself, Kal-El?" the creature said with a smile. "Look at it with your super eyesight, what the **** am I... The answer is in it, but you have to look very carefully."

"A friendly reminder, Superman, you'd better not do what it says."

An unfamiliar voice sounded behind him, and Clark Kent looked back, but did not find the speaker. Then, the voice sounded in front of him again: "Don't look for it, I'm not by your side now, but you'd better do as I say."

"Who are you?"

The creature sighed in annoyance: "Can't you see it yourself? Damn it, look at it with your eyes!"

Clark clenched his right hand, squeezed its neck, made it speechless, and replied coldly, "I'm not talking to you."

"On the question of who I am, you can come to the Wayne Mansion later. But the most important thing right now is to get this thing out of your hands... listen, fly near the sun , then suffocate it to death. Throw the body into the sun."

"Why should I believe what you say?"

"Who are you talking to?!"

The creature screamed suddenly, its eyes turned pitch black, and its body began to show abnormal expansion. Superman felt as if his blood had congealed, and the intense pressure fell from the sky, rattling his bones and muscles. And he didn't even know where this terrifying weight came from.

Then Clark heard a sigh.

A blue light flashed through his eyes, and an oriental man in a black robe walked out of it, raised his hand lightly, and a golden flame ignited out of thin air, burning the creature to ashes.

The sense of oppression disappeared, and the ashes slowly floated up and flew towards the man, who was put into a small glass bottle by him. After doing all this, the man looked at him, stretched out his right hand, the blue light flashed again, and a portal opened behind him: "Would you mind a visit to Wayne Mansion? Bruce is waiting for you, oh, Alfred is still roasting some biscuits."

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

"Thank you, Alfred."

"It's nothing, Master Kent. In fact, I can bake you some more, if you want."

Hearing his words, Clark waved his hands again and again - he has eaten three trays of cookies, and a man named Wayne has been looking at him with murderous eyes for more than five minutes. He dares to promise that if he has another tray, It is estimated that the news of the acquisition of Planet Daily by Wayne Enterprises will be seen early tomorrow.

And then, he is about to be transferred in eighty percent. Clark believed that Bruce could definitely do such a thing.

He smiled embarrassedly and put down the biscuit in his hand: "Then, you can start talking, Bruce."

"Say what?" Bruce Wayne asked irritably. "You only experienced a life-and-death danger not long ago, and you ate three plates of biscuits in a row after you came!"

He hated the iron and said: "Do you know that that thing is full of viruses that are specifically aimed at you? As long as you try to observe its internal structure, you will be infected in an instant, then brain-dead, and your body will be infected by the virus. Control, turn into a killing machine and slaughter the whole world!"

His reaction was intense, and Clark picked up the cookie he had just put down. Not only that, he even looked at the man who was almost **** off and took a bite of the cookie with innocent eyes. In the crisp cracking sound, he saw Bruce Wayne's face suddenly darkened.

"Am I all right?"

"boom!"

Bruce Wayne slapped the table hard: "That's because he helped you! You mindless idiot, can you stop eating cookies! What I'm about to say next is important!"

"No amount can compare to Alfred's biscuits. These are his own biscuits, and my father taught me to respect food and the fruits of other people's labor since I was a child." Clark answered inarticulately. "Master Wayne, please have mercy and let me finish this plate of cookies, okay?"

"...How come I didn't find out you're an **** before?"

Hearing this sentence, Clark finally couldn't help laughing. He waved his hand, and this time he really put the biscuit down, and his expression became serious: "I just wanted to make you calm down and made a little joke, Bruce. I can see that you are not as calm as usual. , your heart beats fast...but I still hope you can calm down."

"It seems that the roles have changed, Mr. Bruce." Alfred said suddenly. "You were originally responsible for persuading everyone in the alliance to keep calm. It's really strange."

"Really? You think so too, Fu!"

Clark laughed gleefully and even gave him a high five. Of course, the face of a certain bat is also getting darker. But as the saying goes - when his face turned black to the extreme, not only did he not break out, but he just sighed.

"You're right, Clark. I did lose my cool." He calmed down. "But that's because the situation we're facing is too serious."

"How serious can it be? Is it worse than Darkseid's?"

Superman's question was affirmed, and Batman nodded. The mage who had been watching their interaction with a cold eye also nodded at this time, he put down the biscuits in his hand, drank the lipstick tea again, and said inarticulately: "Actually, Mr. Kent, this time should be better than what you have experienced before. Everything is much more serious."

After speaking, he raised his hand: "Uh, Alfred, have another cup of black tea, please?"

"Of course, sir."

Just as Alfred was pouring tea for him, He Shenyan explained to Clark: "It's actually very simple, someone wants to kill you all. But it's just a performance, that person's real purpose is to destroy the whole world. ."

"With all due respect, UU reading www.uukanshu.com Mr. He..." Superman frowned. "What you said is really appalling. Besides, is it possible that the world will not be able to change without us?"

He said seriously: "I don't think so. Even if we die, there will be a successor who will inherit our desire to make the world a better place. I didn't fly for the first time to show off my abilities. It was to save a young man who wanted to commit suicide by jumping off a building because of his academic failure."

"It's okay if you don't believe it, I can't ask everyone to be a persecuted paranoid like this black-faced Batman, and very few people like him to go out and step on a rock and feel that someone is behind the plan. ."

He Shenyan nodded: "But you will believe it, if the order is correct. The third person in distress should be The Flash."

"Barry?"

Superman frowned: "He's the fastest man in the world, what could threaten him?"

"I don't know either." He Shenyan shrugged. "Wait and see."