"I've long had enough of you, you second-generation rich brat!" Adam's eyes burned red with fury. He lunged at Bruce Wayne like a madman, grabbing his collar. "It's all because of you! My luck's gone down the drain—and now you're here to bother me again? Go eat shit, you bastard!"
The sudden outburst shocked everyone. The reporters, who had been gleefully waiting to see more drama, suddenly panicked. None of them wanted to witness Gotham's richest man getting beaten to death by a police detective.
"Quick, pull them apart! Stop them!"
"Someone call security!"
They scrambled to separate the two men, terrified that Daniel might, in his anger, actually draw a gun and shoot Bruce Wayne right in front of the cameras. That would be the scandal of the century.
Gotham's Breaking News
Within an hour, the incident had exploded across every TV station and news site. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ NovᴇlFɪre.nᴇt
"This is Gotham TV with an urgent breaking news update," a glamorous female host announced excitedly on every screen across the city. "The scheduled broadcast of the classic drama Grey Ghost has been interrupted. In the past hour, a shocking event occurred—Gotham's own billionaire playboy, Bruce Wayne, got into an altercation with a police officer that escalated into a physical fight…"
Any viewer who tried switching channels would only see variations of the same headline:
"Bruce Wayne Brawls With Detective—What Happened at Gotham University?"
Online gossip spread like wildfire. Social media and self-media bloggers added their own dramatic spin:
"The clash happened in front of Gotham University, a campus known for its high female student population. Some speculate this might have been a fight over women. After all, Bruce Wayne is Gotham's number one playboy, beloved by countless women…"
At the same time, in the grand halls of Wayne Manor, Alfred was giving Bruce one of his trademark disappointed looks.
"You rushed out to deliver an antidote serum," Alfred sighed, his tone somewhere between exasperation and fatherly concern, "so how exactly did that end with you… fistfighting a detective in public? This kind of behavior is far too childish."
The butler's eyes flicked to the bruise under Bruce's eye and added dryly, "Well, at least you won't have to apply black paint for your Batman eye-mask tonight."
(For those who don't know, Batman's cowl design requires black eye shadow around the eyes to avoid looking ridiculous with exposed skin. The movies never show this part, but Alfred definitely knows.)
Bruce said nothing, silently rolling a boiled egg over the swollen area under his eye. Adam's attack wasn't that strong, but it had still left a mark. He simply switched channels, trying to ignore Alfred's lecture.
The screen flickered, and now it was Adam's face filling the frame. His hands were wrapped in gauze, his body covered in ointment and bandages. He looked like he had just survived a car accident rather than a fistfight.
"As the person directly involved," the female host asked, leaning forward with a knowing smile, "do you have anything you'd like to say to the audience—or perhaps to Mr. Wayne himself?"
"I don't have a damn thing to say to him," Adam grumbled. His expression was sour, his tone even worse. He had assumed Bruce Wayne, as the carefree rich boy persona, wouldn't hit that hard. He had been very wrong. Bruce hadn't even gone full force, but Adam still ended up hospitalized before he could come out and record this interview.
'I need to get stronger,' he thought grimly. 'Otherwise, I'll die young in this godforsaken city where even the rich are terrifying.'
The host, sensing the drama, pressed on. "Some legal experts say Bruce Wayne's behavior could be classified as 'assault on a police officer.' Will you file charges against him?"
Adam snorted. "Sue him? What's the point? Even if I drag him into arbitration in Washington, do you really think it'll matter? Come on! He's the richest guy on Earth. He could hire a football team's worth of Crown lawyers and walk away without a scratch."
Then, staring straight into the camera, Adam added, "But don't get cocky, Wayne! I know you're watching this. The law might be useless against people like you… but sooner or later, the monsters hiding in Gotham's shadows will come for you!"
The host's eyes lit up. This was gold.
"Oh? Are you referring to Batman? Do you mean to say you want Gotham's Dark Knight to punish Bruce Wayne?"
"I didn't say that," Adam shrugged, grinning slyly. "Interpret it however you want. Just don't pin me for it later."
The host smirked. She knew exactly what the audience would think. Adam was obviously hinting at Batman, Gotham's shadowy vigilante.
Adam continued with almost prophetic gravitas:
"There are things I can't do when it comes to the richest man alive. But I believe there's always something in the dark corners of Gotham—something watching him, always spying on him from the shadows, hiding behind statues, waiting… and when the time comes, it'll use claws and darkness to correct everything wrong with this city."
The entire city assumed he was talking about Batman, but Adam's deliberate vagueness made the statement all the more powerful.
Even Alfred, who prided himself on never losing his composure, facepalmed. "Mr. Adam is… quite the character," he muttered. "He clearly respects Batman but despises Bruce Wayne. Imagine his face if he knew they were the same person…"
Bruce, who had been quietly listening, let a faint smile curve his lips. It was a sharp, cold smile.
"This just proves my disguise is working perfectly," he said with a calm satisfaction. "The more people believe I'm nothing but a spoiled, drunken playboy, the safer Batman's identity remains. And as someone who's lived among the poor and seen their hatred for the elite firsthand, I understand Adam's perspective. He despises people like me—the privileged, the untouchable rich. To him, Bruce Wayne is the very symbol of an unfair world."
Alfred narrowed his eyes, sensing something off in Bruce's tone.
"Master Bruce… you don't… hate Adam, do you?"
Bruce's face hardened, but his silence was answer enough.