"But Alfred! Did you see that? He just learned it like that! That's not scientific at all!"
Alfred simply smiled and said nothing. His own young master had always been a genius who picked things up instantly.
"It really is incredible, Jason. But this world isn't lacking in geniuses. And I happen to be one of them." Max shamelessly praised himself.
Jason opened his mouth to retort, but couldn't find the words.
"Hey, Alfred, can I play with the computer?"
Max's eyes sparkled as he stared at the Batcomputer, which took up half a wall.
Now that he'd realized how ridiculously talented he was, Max felt like a dry sponge, desperate to soak up knowledge. And the internet? Prime learning territory.
"You can, just not that one. Please wait—I'll fetch a laptop for you from the WayneTech vault."
Alfred turned and walked off to get a cutting-edge laptop developed by Wayne Enterprises.
"Awesome! Thanks, Alfie!"
But Jason still wasn't convinced. He challenged Max to a duel.
Max readily agreed. They clasped hands to begin... and within three seconds, Jason was flat on the ground.
Jason stared at the ceiling, dazed, the light gone from his eyes.
Max suddenly felt a little guilty. He couldn't crush the guy's confidence too much—what if he broke him? And then their grumpy little sidekick #2 would be no more! That wouldn't do!
He walked over, pulled Jason up, and encouraged him cheerfully:
"C'mon, Robin! I believe in you~! Maybe next time, don't lose so fast!"
Jason's fuse blew on the spot. He stomped off in a huff and immediately began training again.
Max chuckled. "Ah, youth."
…
Elsewhere, Commissioner Gordon felt another migraine coming on, even though he'd just recently been treated by the Shennong Ruler.
This time, it wasn't physical—it was mental torture.
"Mr. Mayor, I've told you again and again—I can't order Batman around! And I definitely can't take things from him!"
"And Batman already said it—whatever that thing was, it's lost its magic. It's just an ordinary hockey stick now!"
"No! I'm not Batman's sidekick! I'm a Gotham cop, dammit! Always have been! I'm not on his team!"
"Sigh… Why don't you get it?! If you want to find him, turn on the Bat-Signal! That's what I do every time!"
"What?! Are you out of your damn mind?! The Joker is still in Gotham and you want to go mess with Batman?!"
"If you keep talking crazy, I swear I'll show up with a shotgun! Gotham's had a lot of mayors—how many commissioners? One."
"If you think you can find a better commissioner, then replace me!"
BANG!
Gordon slammed the phone down violently, swearing under his breath in fluent Gothamese.
That was the twelfth blood-pressure-spiking call today.
The difference? The earlier ones were from Gotham's rich elite. This one was from the actual mayor.
And they all had the same goal: Make Batman hand over that damn magic green hockey stick.
At first, Gordon tried explaining nicely—it was a temporary magical item, no longer useful, and trying to snatch it would only make Batman your enemy.
But they wouldn't listen. Hell, some of them even threatened Gordon's family to get their way.
Yeah. Like Gordon would take that lying down. Hell no.
He cursed them out right back and warned them: if they dared try anything shady, he and his boys would deal with them. Being rich doesn't make you immortal.
The rich backed off. Not because they respected him, but because Gotham's "Iron Skull" Gordon had someone even scarier behind him—Batman.
Sure, Batman doesn't kill. But he does break bones. Lifelong injuries? Totally his thing.
So, the rich shifted targets. They pressured the mayor instead: get Batman to give it up—or get replaced.
And the new mayor? Total pushover. The moment he got threatened, he panicked and called Gordon to pass the threat along… which led to that delightful phone slam earlier.
Honestly, Gordon was one of the few decent men left in Gotham. If it had been anyone else? Those rich bastards would already be on a one-way trip to meet God.
"Fuck, they've lost it. Trying to use public opinion to force Batman into giving up the stick?!"
"And threatening my family? Do they think my team's just for show?!"
He turned to Harvey, who'd been silently sipping coffee this whole time.
"Harvey! You've heard all of that. Got any ideas?"
Harvey looked at him like he'd just been asked to defuse a bomb.
"Me? Gordon, this is way above my pay grade. I'm just a beat cop."
"You're the one the public voted in. They can't touch you. But the rest of us? We're fair game. I'm staying out of this one."
Gordon sighed. He knew Harvey was right.
But Harvey's words also gave him an idea.
"You're right. You guys can't get involved. I need to warn him."
"Those morons are gonna use media pressure to try and corner him. He'll need to lay low for a few days…"
"…Wait no, he can't disappear! What if the Joker shows up again? That freak's zombies alone are a pain to deal with! If he does another gas attack, what then?!"
Gordon's panic spiked. Especially since Batman's antidote stash was empty.
He threw on his coat. Before heading out, he told Harvey:
"I'm going to light the Bat-Signal. If anyone calls, just say I'm looking for Batman!"
Harvey waved him off. "Relax. If it's about dealing with people, I'm better than you anyway. I've been playing the precinct game a lot longer than you, rookie."
…
At 9:30 PM that night, Batman returned to the Batcave, as silent as a shadow.
"What do you know about the Court of Owls?"
He asked Max, who was currently surfing the web, learning legit hacking techniques.
Max jumped at the sudden, raspy voice.
"Jeez, Batty! Don't sneak up on people like that!"
"Wait—Court of Owls? Are you sure you wanna know? 'Cause if I tell you, you might not be able to handle it."
Batman went silent for a moment—clearly bracing himself.
"Tell me everything."
Seeing his serious expression, Max shrugged and began.
"Alright then. The Court of Owls is an ancient organization made up of Gotham's old-money elite. They've been around since the city was founded, secretly pulling the strings behind the scenes."
"They use their wealth and influence, along with bio-engineered assassins called Talons, to maintain their grip on Gotham."
"They eliminate anyone who defies them. That includes the early power players of Gotham—like the Wayne family. Your parents."
The air grew heavy. The Batcave fell deathly silent.
Batman wasn't as calm as he looked.
He turned and left, peeling off in his Batmobile.
"You shouldn't have said that last part, sir," Alfred's voice came from the shadows, unusually stern. "Master Bruce only recently began to heal. And the Court of Owls… is dangerously powerful."
Max gave him a sly smile. "You knew, didn't you, Alfred?"
Alfred paused. "…While organizing Master Thomas' belongings, I found an owl mask in his closet. I've suspected something ever since."
"Bruce isn't ready to fight the Court. That's why I've said nothing."
Max chuckled lightly. "Relax. For now, I'm on your side."
"For now?"
"Yeah! Aunt Selina is undercover in a Court member's house. I'm not leaving until the Court of Owls is taken care of."
"Then allow me to thank you for your help," Alfred bowed politely.
Max waved his hand. "No need to be so formal, Alfie! I need to learn a lot. Every skill you have, I want to learn it. Help me out, yeah?"
"Of course. As long as you're willing to learn, I'll teach you everything I know."
———
With music playing inside the Batmobile, Batman drove silently, face expressionless.
He hit the nitrous. The Batmobile screamed down the road and brought him back—to where it all began.
Crime Alley. The place where Batman was born.
Returning here stirred old memories—rain, pearls, gunshots, and a crying boy.
"The Court of Owls, huh… I'll get to the bottom of this."
Truthfully, Batman still didn't fully trust Max. Even though he'd already investigated him thoroughly.
Leaving Crime Alley, he fired his grappling hook and headed to the Bat-Signal.
…
"Gordon. What is it?"
"You're here! Did you find the Joker?"
"No. He covered his tracks too well. No clues left behind."
"Damn. We need to catch him soon—Gotham can't take another hit!"
"I've got bad news," Gordon said grimly. "The rich and the mayor are going to pressure you through public opinion. They want that magic item."
"It no longer holds any magical power. It's just a stick."
"I know! I explained that already! They just don't care! They're even threatening cops' families now!"
"I'm at my limit here. So—got any ideas?"
Batman was quiet for a moment.
"They tried harassing me, too. Bruce Wayne called and offered to buy the stick. Even without its powers."
"Bruce Wayne? That playboy billionaire? Ha! Makes sense. If the rich are fighting over it, of course he'd want a piece."
Batman nodded. "I plan to sell it to him. You can tell the mayor and the others: the stick is Bruce Wayne's now. Gotham's richest man won't have our problems. If he does, he can contact the GCPD."
Among Gotham's elite, there's an unspoken agreement—if money can solve it, it's not a real problem.
Gordon laughed out loud. "Good. Let them fight it out themselves for once. Hahaha!"