American comic book: My Father is Superman, am I just an NPC?

Chapter 89 We Promised Not to Blow Up the Earth [Please Read On]

Paper scraps are raining down everywhere in Gotham, and according to reliable sources, another batch is being sent to other cities. The story of hell is spreading rapidly throughout America.

Is it possible for Bruce to not break through the defense?

When Bruce goes out at night to carry out vigilante activities, he usually only encounters villains who hate him and victims who are not so hostile towards him.

however.

Everything changed after that damn manuscript was stolen for some unknown reason. Not only were the victims asking him questions, but even the villains, after being beaten half to death and sent to prison or a mental hospital, were asking him questions.

Everyone.

Yes.

All the bad guys and really bad guys we met tonight had the same unforeseen wish: they all begged Batman to let them see his impressive 24-pack abs.

not only that.

"Losing to a man with 24-pack abs! I'm not wronged! After all these years, after so many fights, after being caught by you so many times, I think everything is reasonable."

"Batman! I know your secret! You're a time-traveling bat-monster reincarnated as a human for love. I heard that when you weren't human, you were always picking fights with Godzilla?"

"Batman, do you really have a 2,000-meter-long bed in your house? Do you really have a farm on Mars where you eat alien chickens and alien beef and mutton?"

"I texted the Joker and he said it's true, it's all true, it's all recorded in historical records."

……

What does it mean to feel like an eternity at night?

Tonight, Batman truly understood what that meant. Although Bruce had considered the possibility of such a thing happening, he still overestimated his ability to handle such an event.

no way.

Since nothing like this had ever happened before, this was undoubtedly another form of first-meeting scare, to the point that even a calm and collected man couldn't help but take two extra anti-anxiety pills.

"Give me that hellish manuscript before I'm ready to hit a kid!" Batman shouted, raising his voice again as Ian continued to ponder.

This is really urgent.

Ian dared not delay any longer.

"The manuscripts for both books are here. Actually, I haven't written much more. I've been busy drawing comics these past few days." Seeing this, Ian didn't dare to probe openly anymore.

of course.

He couldn't resist his curiosity.

"Has my work already gone on sale?"

The boy mainly wanted to hear the editorial department praise his talent.

but.

Bruce glanced at him sideways, then gave a truthful answer without expression, "Yes, it's been released, in the most widespread form possible."

This is providing resources!
At least that's how Ian understood it.

"Great! I knew it would be a hit!" Ian hurriedly handed the manuscript to Bruce, but Bruce hesitated for a moment and then returned half of the manuscript to him.

“Tomorrow, mail it—no, have your father fly to Gotham himself and escort this part to me.” Bruce didn’t dare open the manuscript; he simply stared intently at Ian.

"I see."

Ian had heard that Coca-Cola's formula was heavily guarded during its transfer, and the fact that the manuscript needed to be escorted by the Earth's strongest forces speaks volumes about its value.

It's obvious that his manuscript is far more valuable than the Coca-Cola formula.

"What do you understand?"

Bruce was somewhat surprised.

Am I about to strike it rich?

Ian cautiously probed.

"..."

Bruce remained silent.

Ian simply assumed that his respectable boss was tacitly agreeing.

"This is fantastic! When I become a billionaire, I'm going to set up a football team for Jonathan and buy Jordan the best 'geeky fun cup'."

"And Mom, I'll buy her ten wineries so she'll have an endless supply of wine for the rest of her life. Dad doesn't lack anything, so I'm going to buy his newspaper and send him on business trips to other planets every day."

“The universe is so vast, there are always amazing stories to film. He’ll definitely become a top-notch reporter, even better than Mom.” Ian’s heart was filled with thoughts of his family. He also knew that Mr. Wayne was not particularly sentimental, so he only touched on the subject briefly and didn’t say much more. This was a manifestation of his high emotional intelligence and high IQ.

In any case, the other party is definitely not capable of empathizing with me.

"You don't want your dad watching you every day, do you?" Bruce ruthlessly exposed Ian's little scheme; he didn't want to tell Ian that he was going to use the manuscript to lure the Joker.

The main reason is that he's not 100% sure and is afraid of losing face. As for the royalties Ian fantasizes about, it's just money; Bruce actually sees liking money as a good thing. Of course.

A correct view of money is also important.

"Yesterday during the day, six or seven wealthy people died in Gotham. All the valuables in their safes were looted, with a total value of about fifteen million."

"I think someone urgently needs money?" Bruce stared at the boy in front of him. Of course, he knew that the boy hadn't done it, but he also knew where the money had ended up.

Ian was also very guilty about this.

However, he did not avoid eye contact.

"How could such a thing happen? Someone must be jealous of the rich. What did the wealthy people of America do wrong?" Ian pretended to be heartbroken and put on a show.

The McMurphy performance principle was put into practice once again.

It's definitely useless.

However, it's not acceptable not to use it.

"They did a lot of wrong things, and the few who died were all rich bastards who did all sorts of evil." Bruce might have been cursing himself in passing, but there was something about it that he was cursing himself.

In short.

He dodged Ian, who was about to beat his chest in frustration.

Bruce is still the king of prediction.

"Huh? So all those who died were rich bastards who did all sorts of evil deeds, and not even the ordinary rich bastards in Gotham? That's quite ironic considering it's in Gotham City." Ian couldn't hit Batman's chest, and he didn't want to hit his own, since his fists were now as hard as hammers.

He was genuinely stunned.

Although everyone knows that the rich people in Gotham are not good people, and it wouldn't be a shame if eleven out of ten died, he really didn't expect that the famous Joker would be so particular.

This was clearly carefully selected.

All the money given was legitimate donation money that could be used with a clear conscience? Ugly Master really... Ian was extremely moved. He felt that he should forgive the other party for withholding the remaining five million in rewards.

"What kind of person do you think would do something like this?"

Bruce then posed a difficult question to Ian.

In this regard.

Ian did not hesitate.

"Isn't that obvious? It must be Two-Face! Penguin! Riddler! Scarecrow! Poison Ivy! Mr. Freeze! Clayface! Mad Hatter! Professor Pigface... one of them!" He rattled off the names of all the supervillains who had been active in Gotham over the years, without betraying his most extravagant fan.

Isn't that a perfect answer?

A win-win situation.

Ian always manages to achieve a win-win-win situation.

“Very good, very honest.” Bruce gave Ian a deep look, as if he was quite satisfied with Ian’s answer, and then turned and walked towards Ian’s desk.

"Don't let me find out you're making up ridiculous superhero stories again." Clearly, young Master Wayne didn't intend to delve into the matter; he simply wanted to guard against Ian's verbal attacks.

"I have completed my ultimate evolution and become a more qualified writer. I am no longer the person I was yesterday. I have received an epic upgrade, but there is not a single sign of me going bald." Ian confidently showed the manuscript and spoke with great certainty, then casually raised his hand to touch his hair to confirm.

"what is this?"

Bruce's gaze, which was originally about to look at the manuscript, was drawn to something else on the desk. He picked up the slightly shiny metal ring and his eyes suddenly sharpened.

"nuclear reactor?"

Ian answered honestly.

He knew he couldn't fool tech giants with something like this.

"Yeah, I think so too."

Bruce remained unusually calm, lifting the reactor to inspect it under the light, while simultaneously pulling out his phone with his other hand and quickly dialing a series of numbers.

"Clark."

He dodged Ian, who suddenly lunged at him.

“We agreed not to let your son blow up the Earth, and that should include Metropolis as well…” The old man paused, his mind racing with calculations, as if he had made a judgment.

"And the whole of America, right?"

His emotions were much more stable than before.

His voice was still so deep and hoarse.

[P.S.: I was surprised to receive a tip yesterday; I really didn't expect it, so I wrote like crazy.]

(End of this chapter)