Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

Batman had no time to pay attention to Nightwing's questioning.

He was standing on the rooftop of a tall building, the rain beating against his cape, creating a crescendo like that of a symphony. And the agile black figure he had locked in his sights was nimbly weaving between buildings, her black bodysuit blinking with faint gleams in the rain.

"Catwoman, stop!" Batman's deep voice came through the veil of rain, carrying an undeniable authority.

Catwoman glanced back at him, the corners of her mouth curling up with a cunning smile. "Stop? That's not really my style, Batman."

As her words fell, she suddenly jumped, cracking her whip that latched onto the railing of the opposite rooftop, swinging over with feline grace. Batman didn't hesitate, his grappling hook shot out instantly, following her lead.

Their figures crisscrossed in the night sky of Gotham, the rain getting colder, yet unable to quench the fervor of this chase.

The arcs drawn by Catwoman's whip in the air had an air of suggestiveness, but they were laden with lethal danger. The whip was like silk when loose, like steel when taut. When Catwoman sped up, she was as agile as a cheetah; when she slowed down, she carried a hint of a domestic cat's playful charm.

"What was your target when you sneaked into the Batcave?" Batman chased after her while asking in a deep voice.

"Oh, just a little trinket," Catwoman chuckled lightly, her voice extra enticing in the rainy night, "but I think it wouldn't interest you."

"If you're referring to those collectibles in the Batcave, then you'd better give up now." Batman's voice was stern, his Batman dart poised and ready.

Catwoman's laughter grew more joyful, "You're still so dull, Batman. But, I didn't plan on going home empty-handed tonight."

She suddenly somersaulted, throwing her whip towards Batman's face. Batman quickly dodged to the side, and his Batman dart was thrown in a fluid motion aimed at Catwoman's shoulder. Catwoman twisted her body nimbly, and the Batman dart brushed past the edge of her suit, pinning itself into the wall behind her.

"That was close," Catwoman teased, "it seems your aim has gotten worse."

Batman remained silent, his grappling hook fired once again, his form shadowing closer to Catwoman. Seeing this, Catwoman whipped her whip out sharply, wrapping it around the balcony railing of a nearby building, and with a powerful leap, she jumped to a farther rooftop.

"You won't get away, Catwoman," Batman's voice sounded especially deep within the rain.

"That's not certain," Catwoman smiled back, "after all, I'm a cat, and you're just a bat."

Finally, Catwoman stopped at the edge of a high-rise building, with dozens of meters of open air behind her. She turned around to face the Batman who was hot on her trail, her lips still shaped in that sly smile.

"It looks like you've finally caught up," Catwoman spoke softly, "but are you sure you want to make your move here?"

Batman stood opposite her, raindrops falling along his mask, his voice low and calm: "Hand it over, Selina. The charade ends tonight."

Catwoman laughed lightly, pulling out something from within her bosom. Batman's pupils constricted sharply at the sight of the item.

```

"Is this what you're talking about? Too bad, it's mine now."

"That is the diary of the ancestors of the Wayne Family, you cannot take it away."

"Why can't I?" Catwoman tilted her head, a flicker of provocation in her eyes, "Is it more important to you than it is to me?"

Batman fell silent for a moment, then said, "This is not a game, Selina. This item is important and it's not valuable in terms of money, give it back to me."

The smile on Catwoman's face gradually faded, and her gaze grew complex, "I'm speaking to you very seriously too, but you've never looked up to a thief like me. Your arrogance is a sign of your stupidity."

"Unfortunately for you, I did come with important news today—this item emits a type of special low-frequency sound wave that works with something on you, gradually affecting your mental state."

"I don't understand what you're talking about." Batman's voice was still calm, "This is a legacy left to me by a very important elder, and no one is allowed to take it for any reason."

"It's precisely because this is so important to you that you would step into a trap," Catwoman's tone even held a hint of exasperation, as if she were disappointed in him, "The closest of your children and elders have become the two deepest blades thrust into your heart. What will you think when you realize this? What about them?"

"Stop evading, Batman, you know something is not right with this." Catwoman took a couple of steps forward, raising the book in her hand, "Think about when your mental state started to deteriorate continuously, why have you tried everything but are unable to reverse the situation?"

"Answer me, Batman, what is the real weakness that can be exploited?!"

"Enough."

"Indeed, it is enough. If you still can't wake up to this, then I have no interest in wasting my words on a fool like you. Goodbye."

Catwoman suddenly threw the book into the air; Batman's gaze was instantly drawn to it. In that instant, Catwoman's whip lashed out, circling around a nearby treetop, her body swinging away lightly like a cat.

Batman quickly reacted, firing a grappling hook, following closely behind. Nonetheless, Catwoman's movements were quicker than he anticipated.

"Goodbye, foolish bat." Her voice dissipated in the rain, then she turned and leaped into the darkness.

Batman stood in place, his cape soaked by the rain. He looked down at the grappling hook in his hand and then pressed the communicator by his ear.

"Batwoman, help me track down Catwoman's location. She has taken something very important."

"Understood, Batman." Batwoman's voice came through the earpiece, "But are you sure you want to pursue this to the end? After all, there seem to be more important things to handle right now."

Batman fell silent for a moment, his gaze in the direction where Catwoman vanished, "She brought an important message. I don't disbelieve her, I just need time to verify it. Until then, I will not act rashly."

"The Joker seems to be planning to drag this out to the very end." Batwoman's voice didn't contain much urgency; clearly, she didn't have much sympathy for those wealthy people. Still, out of a sense of responsibility, she added, "Considering the Joker's theatrical nature, I just did a screening of Gotham's public buildings. There aren't many that fit his criteria, but there are a few highly suspect targets."

```

"What's the most likely possibility?"

"Arkham Asylum."

The Batmobile didn't head towards Arkham Asylum but made a turn and arrived in the Lower City area. When a dark figure appeared in front of the clinic window, Dr. Tompkins was startled.

"Why are you here, Batman?"

"I have something to ask you, Doctor, about my condition."

This topic shocked Dr. Tompkins even more than Batman's arrival. The doctor hesitated for a long time but still said relatively cautiously, "I don't mean to preach to you, Batman, but if you could take some time to rest, I would try not to describe your recent state as an illness."

"No, Doctor. That's exactly what I want to hear. If my condition were to be described as a disease, what would it be?"

Dr. Tompkins was slightly conflicted but still said, "Considering your father's condition, I would prefer to think it's hereditary bipolar disorder. Its symptoms are roughly..."

"Is there a chance it's not hereditary?"

"What?"

"Is there a chance it could have been influenced by external forces?"

"Are you suggesting poisoning or something? Forgive my bluntness, but that's hardly likely."

"What about Magic?"

"Magic? You don't seem like someone who would believe in that kind of stuff..." Dr. Tompkins got that far when he remembered the experience of accompanying Alfred to the herbal shop initially.

"Maybe it's possible." After thinking it over, Dr. Tompkins seriously said, "Although everyone has the right to get sick, the likelihood of developing a certain mental illness also varies according to each person's character. And both you and your father are not the type of people who would easily get depressed."

"Can you explain it in detail?"

Dr. Tompkins shook his head and said, "You can take it as a doctor's intuition. I always feel you shouldn't be like this. But if you ask me for evidence, of course, I have none, because you never see a psychiatrist."

However, this gave Batman some insight. He stepped out of the clinic and called the Pale Knight.

"What are Batmen like in other universes?"

"If you're looking to plead for that damn daredevil driver, then you can come and take his beating!" The Pale Knight's tone was very unfriendly. Batman was taken aback by what he heard.

"Are the other Batmen like this too?" Batman heard the hesitancy in his own voice. If that's the case, it indeed doesn't look like a person prone to depression but more like someone who would cause their parents to be depressed.

"You two are atypical cases." The Pale Knight was obviously doing something and sounded somewhat out of breath as he said, "All the other Batmen are arrogant, the type of people who would doubt the laws of the cosmos before doubting themselves."

Batman was taken aback again.

"Yes, they might not say it, but that's the type of person they are," The Pale Knight said confidently, "We should be thankful we were born in the same world, or else I'd have to deal with that bunch of lunatics."

After finishing, the Pale Knight hung up the phone, leaving Batman sitting in the car, silent for a long time.

Batman could probably imagine what other Batmen were like. However, the negative emotions in his heart surged out of control again, causing his thoughts to begin to dissipate gradually.

He subconsciously reached for his belt, always feeling reassured whenever he touched the patterns on that special Bat tag.

But for some reason, he forcefully stopped his action this time, preferring to grip the steering wheel tightly than to touch his darts again. Some shadows of doubt still climbed onto the surface of his heart.

On the other side, Bruce, who had been severely punched twice by the Pale Knight, staggered to the edge of the overpass. He wiped the blood from his lip and then said, "I don't have time to fight with you here, I have official business to attend to."

"And your business is racing around Gotham, causing traffic chaos, and injuring two police officers?!"

"Why don't you ask why the police were chasing me?"

The Pale Knight stared at him intently, but Bruce just grinned and pulled out a document from his chest, shaking it before saying, "Audine Medical Equipment Manufacturing Company's tax documents— do you know what happens next?"

The Pale Knight was just about to say something when he heard a roaring above his head, the winds from the helicopter's rotors nearly blew him off his feet.

He looked up and saw a black helicopter slowly descending under the dark clouds. The black helicopter bore a white scales-of-justice emblem, and beneath it were the English letters—"Internal Revenue Service."

In the office of Arkham Insane Asylum, Clown Maria stood stiffly across the table from Shiller, who had just hung up the phone, and said,

"So your method of dealing with them is tax investigation?"

Shiller stood up, adjusted his suit lapel, and said, "What else did you think? Kill everyone like a butcher and then be charged with murder and jailed?"

"That's the way you guys do it here, those lunatics; I am a law-abiding citizen, but I aim to become the hero of tax auditing."

Shiller turned around, smiling calmly and said, "The only unavoidable things in life are death and taxes. How is that not the most thrilling death gamble?"

"Prepare to open the bets, and let the Whole Gotham see whether the elite behave as fearlessly and lawlessly as they appear to be."