When Shearer woke up, he didn't even have to roll over to know that he was back in the unpretentious Gotham City, because the smell of kerosene in the air and the never-clear skies outside his window told him that he had transgressed back this damned place.
And not a single moment had passed.
He turned off his alarm, looked at the calendar, and it was the next day after he had traveled to Marvel, which meant time in DC World stood still when he was in Marvel.
Shearer sighed, momentarily torn between which was more dangerous, the unpretentious Gotham City or the center of the cosmos, New York City.
Honestly speaking, even though New York was more enjoyable, Gotham was the eternal home. At least it hasn't started in the cosmic model yet, Shearer wasn't equipped to deal with the Purple Sweet Potato Spirit yet.
He rose from bed, got dressed, and because Gotham University required professors to dress formally for class, Shearer wore a shirt, vest, and suit every day, sometimes switching things up with different suit styles or a trench coat.
The temperature in Gotham in September was not too bad, not cold at all. The city was probably mild due to its coastal location, with a warm breeze gracing its streets.
As soon as Shearer stepped out the door, he saw someone he wished he wouldn't – Bruce Wayne.
Shearer turned to leave.
Bruce quickly caught up with him, calling out: "Professor! Professor! I have some questions about psychology to ask you! Can you wait for me?"
Shearer inwardly cursed. There were plenty of professors near his apartment, and he couldn't just refuse, so he said, "Alright, alright, I'm not deaf, Mr. Wayne. Let's go to the counseling room to talk."
Thus, the two of them entered the counseling room. Bruce did not sit down but went straight to make some coffee. Holding the hot mug, he placed it in front of Shearer.
He said, "Shearer Andel Rodriguez, world-renowned criminal psychologist, holder of four doctoral degrees related to psychology, you have been involved in the renowned case of the Assaulting City Carnage, the Emperor City Red Glove Serial Killings, and the Seashore City Underground Corpse Dismembering case. Most importantly, four months ago you resigned in the middle of the Deputy Mayor of Metropolis's trial and accepted an invitation to the faculty of Gotham University..."
"Professor Shearer, can you tell me, why did you come to Gotham?"
Listening, Shearer's hairs stood on end. God, the record of the original body could directly be sent to Arkham Asylum! The Joker couldn't beat him at that!
You actually participated in a series of cases that sound horrifying just by their names, not just one! Hell, Bruce still wanted to talk about it!
Shearer cursed inwardly, but he maintained a calm demeanor. He took a sip of the coffee and said, "Gotham is a good place."
"Is it? The city with the highest crime rate in the country?"
"That's not important."
"Crime rate in Metropolis isn't high, kid, sit down. Do you think Metropolis is safer than Gotham?"
"At least not for me." Shearer said.
Shearer inherited both the skills and knowledge from his host, but the memories were hazy. He suspected even before he transmigrated, the original owner had already lost some important memories, at least now Shearer couldn't recall a single detail about those gruesome cases. He seems to see some vague shadows, but it was all unclear.
Shearer knew that the original inhabitant of the body he was in, must have been involved in an indescribable, complex case and then was framed.
Shearer said, "The safety you see is only a facade, Mr. Wayne. Behind that, behind the glitz and glamour of Metropolis, hides a darkness you may not even dare to imagine."
"Then why did you come to Gotham City?"
"... I thought you'd have checked my resume, but it wasn't detailed enough. I have offended too many people. Only here is safe."
"Only criminals can deal with criminals," Shearer said.
Bruce Wayne seemed stunned by this statement. He said, "Only criminals can deal with criminals? Professor, do you really think so?"
"Bruce, let's change the subject," Shearer said.
Bruce looked at him, his gaze as gloomy as Gotham's sky. Shearer sensed that he was no longer dealing with the goofy playboy Bruce Wayne, but Batman, one of the most complicated superheroes in history, a dark hero, a misunderstood fanatic, a genius teetering on the edge of insanity.
"If you want to get more from me, you'll have to pay the price," Shearer said.
"What do you want?" Bruce asked.
"What I want, you cannot give now. You should understand what I mean," Shearer said.
"So I can give it to you later, right?"
Bruce reined in his expression, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. He said, "Professor Shearer, I'm sorry to tell you this, but I've put something in your coffee, a nanovirus of my own making..."
"Bruce, your dishonesty won't get you more from me, kid. This isn't your childish trick to get sweets," Shearer said.
"Guess I strike out today," Bruce said.
"Not necessarily," Shearer said.
"I hope you can give me a good enough grade in the final exam, Bruce. Show me that you have the heart to learn this skill. Then come find me again," Shearer said.
"I won't waste any more time here," Bruce said.
"You're far from being a teacher, Bruce. You're still a student," Shearer said.