Yet it was because of this very specific diagnostic result that Thomas's fingertips began to tremble.
He had some knowledge of medicine, but was not well-versed in psychiatry or psychology. Therefore, his thinking in this regard was like most people's. As soon as he saw words like "to be classified", " pervasive", "developmental", he would associate it with incurable diseases.
At that time, Shiller prescribed a lot of medicine for Bruce, some of which were placebos, so the list of medications was long and looked frightening. What's even more frightening was that the prescription was signed by Schiller Rodriguez.
Thomas was not a native of this universe, so he did not know about Schiller's renowned reputation in this world, but he did know that Schiller was the Joker.
The fact that Batman went to the Joker for medical treatment was tricky to state. If the Joker took it seriously and diagnosed a disease, that means Batman must be very ill. But if the Joker didn't find any illness, and Batman still paid for the prescription, then his condition must be even worse.
As the saying goes, if people don't agree to open the window, suggest removing the ceiling, then everyone will certainly agree to open the window.
If Thomas objected to his son becoming Batman, he could simply show him Bruce's terrible performance at school, a pile of mental illness diagnoses, and prescriptions. Then he would definitely agree to allow Bruce to be Batman.
After all, becoming Batman is better than being a mental patient. The tragedy of Martha had already fully illustrated this point to Thomas. Doing anything is better than being crazy.
A few minutes later, Thomas, sitting on the sofa, had not only these grades in his hand, but also numerous diagnosis papers and receipts. He then simply removed his mask, revealing his wrinkled exterior etched within time.
Jason, who had just finished his homework, ran downstairs for water, and saw Thomas looking worried.
Dick had been deceived by Thomas, thus he didn't trust him. Tim seemed somewhat afraid of Thomas, only Jason, he was quite interested in Thomas.
"What's wrong?" Jason stepped forward and asked, "Do you need help?"
Without waiting for Thomas' response, Jason moved closer, peeked at the large stack of papers in his hands, and then showed a look of revelation.
Thomas was observing his response. Seeing Jason's unsurprised expression, he asked with some doubt, "Have you seen these things?"
"Of course, I was there when the professor was writing the diagnosis. I even asked him for help with spelling."
Thomas hesitated for a moment, then he beckoned Jason over. Jason walked forward a few steps confusedly, sensing Thomas' lack of malevolence. Indeed, Thomas gently ruffled his hair and said, "Don't tell anyone, okay?"
"Who are you referring to?" Jason asked very bluntly, he didn't wait for Thomas to respond before saying, "Are you referring to the people at Wayne Manor? They already know."
"Bruce could never deceive Alfred. Everything of his is kept by the butler. Dick has the closest relationship with him, often entering his bedroom, and would have seen it. Tim is very smart and already knows everything from Dick."
"As for Aisha... I suggest you put these things away quickly, or else they will be in Aisha's stomach tonight. She is the most efficient paper shredder here."
Thomas stared at Jason with his wrinkled eyes. In Jason's eyes, he saw two completely different temperaments. There was the wildness from the chaotic streets of Gotham, a dark city, and there was the intellect from knowledge and philosophical thinking.
"There is no father who wants his son to be ill." Thomas began, he was about to say the next sentence, but Jason beat him to it: "Neither is there a son who wants his father to be ill. Do you think you're not ill?"
Thomas looked at him blankly. Jason put his hands behind his back, lowered his eyelashes, then said, "If you were not ill, you wouldn't have broken three of your own son's ribs, forcing him to follow his friends to other cities for treatment rather than being able to recover at home."
Thomas looked again at the diagnoses. He realized that he was really good at tolerating craziness. Whether it was the Joker, Martha, or Bruce, upon learning that they might have mental illnesses, Thomas's only hope would be for them to be able to live independently.
Thomas sighed deeply and stood up. He turned to Alfred and said, "Get me a plane ticket. I'm going to Kansas."
Before Alfred could respond, a loud explosion reverberated from the gate of Wayne Manor.
Instinctively, Thomas pressed Jason down. After the explosion, the dust dissipated, Thomas saw the gate of Wayne Manor collapse. In the night, a somewhat familiar figure stood outside the gate.
"Joker..." Thomas squinted his eyes, the instincts of Batman buzzed, but instead of Schiller whom he had met before, another Joker appeared outside the gate.
He was in a truck driver's uniform, holding a half-eaten chicken leg in one hand and a bomb detonator in the other.
"Hello, my name is Jack. A colleague of mine, oh, an ex-colleague, called me and told me that my little bat had found his father. I've been busy at work recently and haven't been able to visit. I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Batman."
Thomas wasted no time in small talk; pulling out three Batman darts from his waist, he threw them at Joker Jack. Joker Jack rolled on the spot, shook his head while laughing, "Great Mr. Batman, aren't you going to let poor Joker plead before you act?"
As Thomas was loading his gun and keeping his gaze on Joker Jack, his expression looked like he was saying "I really want to see what kind of nonsense you can come up with."
However, the next words of Joker Jack caused him to widen his eyes gradually.
Jack showed an exaggerated smile, limping over in front of Thomas. He pulled out a crumpled paper note from his pocket and confidently slapped it on the coffee table.
Thomas glanced at the note and then froze. At the same time, the words of Jack rang in his ear.
"You can't hit me, otherwise, by tomorrow, everyone in Gotham will know that the tyrannical Waynes owe money and don't pay, and they even beat up their creditors!"
"That's right, your son owes me 100 dollars and still hasn't paid! Here, this is the IOU, undeniable, hurry up and get him to repay me!".
Thomas's vision went black.
After recovering from his initial shock, Thomas' first reaction was disbelief.
Let alone how likely it would be for Batman to borrow money from the Joker, it was the amount that was highly suspect.
How could Bruce Wayne not even have 100 dollars???
But at this moment, Jason stepped forward, picked up the promissory note that Jack had slapped on the table, and said after looking at it: "It really is Bruce's handwriting. Let me see who the guarantor is... Ah, it's a mob boss named Lute from the East District. I have some recollection of him."
The tips of Thomas' fingers were trembling. He stared at Jason, and Jason looked back at him innocently, saying, "Some time ago, I think Bruce went to the slums. I remember Selina complaining, saying 'Why does this young master want to starve himself in the slums?'"
From Jason's actions and expressions, he didn't seem to be lying. After Thomas came to this conclusion, he could hardly describe his feelings.
The feeling was indeed complex, impossible to empathize with unless given an example.
If one had to describe it, it would probably be like this: you had a nemesis who had been bullying you since childhood, stealing your toys and pocket money, leading the whole class to ostracize and bully you in school, and inciting your colleagues and superiors against you at work.
You wanted to distance yourself from him, but he always shadowed you, constantly harassing all your family and friends until they went mad.
While you were furious and wanted to kill him, you found that he was immune to death, and your revenge would only provoke even crazier and bloodier retaliation.
In the end, he made everyone you cared about live in extreme misery, turning you into a true loner.
Then one day, he came to you, not to torment you further, but to tell you, as you were about to beat him up, that your son owed him money.
The most terrifying part of this situation was that you knew, just by thinking about it, how delighted and conceited he must have been when your son was humbly begging him for a loan.
He paid no price for his despicable behavior, and even had the audacity to mock your parenting skills, making you understand painfully that this wasn't a lose-lose, but a unilateral defeat.
After such an incident, along with the ultimate anger, you also feel an extra sense of melancholy, which makes one ponder on the worthiness of their existence.
Thomas was in such a state now that he even began to question the necessity of human reproduction.
It would have been one thing for Batman to receive treatment and medication from the Joker, but asking him for a loan was too absurd.
In the first half of Thomas' life, he mostly played the role of a good husband, good father, and successful businessman. He taught his children not to be conceited, so he never displayed arrogance and tried to be as approachable as possible.
However, both subjectively and objectively speaking, the glory of the Wayne family indeed owed something to Thomas. Being human, of course, he felt pride in the wealth and social status he owned.
After becoming Batman, he lost almost everything he could lose — his children, his wife, and his friends. Of all the things remaining that could give him a sense of security and also fear, it was his wealth.
Upon finding out that Batman in the other world was his son Bruce, Thomas still harbored a glimmer of hope.
Fortunately, he left a massive inheritance and Wayne Enterprises to his son. Therefore, no matter what, at least Batman was wealthy and didn't have to endure both mental and material deprivation.
But now, it seemed that this enormous wealth had not helped Bruce in this world. His nemesis had come knocking, not for some earth-shattering vendetta, but for a mere 100 dollars.
Thomas stood in silence. After a while, he turned to Alfred and said, "...Give this gentleman 100 dollars, then please show him out."
As he turned to leave, he heard a string of hysterical laughter behind him. When Thomas turned back, he found that Joker Jack was very close.
Jack was fixating on Thomas with his bloodshot eyes before saying: "That guy was right. You don't understand your son at all, you don't understand him at all!"
Jack abruptly turned around, bent down to pick up the promissory note on the table, and placed it in front of Thomas, asking him: "Can you see clearly? Can you see the amount written on it?"
Thomas' eyes fell on the promissory note, where it clearly stated 100 dollars. But Jack acted as if he couldn't see it. He pointed with his other hand at the note, saying:
"This isn't 100 dollars; this is all of Gotham."
With that, he stepped back, carefully folded the note and put it back into his pocket, then chuckled again. He looked at Thomas with a mocking face: "Don't be naïve, Batman. You're far inferior to him. You can't repay this debt!"
The scorn and certainty in his voice left Thomas baffled. Joker Jack left while humming a song, looking cheerful and light-footed, like he wasn't there to collect a debt, but just to mock Thomas.
Thomas understood the implication of Jack's words. Jack said that Thomas couldn't repay the debt Bruce could and would wait for Bruce to come back. But Thomas didn't understand why.
Batman loathes the Joker's pestering, but when the Joker refrains from bothering him, he feels even more awkward.
After Jack left, Thomas sat on the sofa and thought quietly for a long time. Martha's death had already dealt him a huge mental blow, which made him unable to think rationally since he came to this universe.
However, the mysteries of this universe were too numerous. He had to force himself to calm down. Thomas took a few deep breaths, blocked the complicated emotions in his thoughts, and began to gradually clear up the connection behind these anomalies.
At first glance, it seemed that Bruce had done nothing, but the environment he was in and the attitudes of those who knew him indicated that he must have done something. To figure out what he had done, he still had to start with the details.
Mature Batman always quickly deduces the root cause of things rationally. Not long after, Thomas stood up from the sofa, turned to Alfred and said, "Prepare me a suit, there must still be suits for me to wear, right?"
"Of course, sir, you have gained quite a lot of strength compared to before, but there are larger sizes among the suits you had prepared before. I'll iron them now. Are you going out?"
"Yes, prepare the car for me. By the way, Moray should still be working at the company, right? He's my secretary, the redhead with glasses. You should have seen him once."
"Yes, sir, he is still serving as the chairman's secretary at Wayne Enterprises. Should I help you contact him?"
"Give him a call, ask him to draft a speech for me. The theme is that many years ago, the assassination of Mr. and Mrs. Wayne did not result in both of them dying. I did not die, but was kidnapped to Nepal and have been healing there ever since. Now, I am back."
Soon, Alfred had ironed the suit. Thomas went upstairs to change. He had completely white hair at the temples, but it added extra dignity and momentum to him, making him look even more like the helmsman of a top global corporation than before.
He strode into the living room, and Alfred opened the door for him. As soon as he stepped out, he saw a car waiting outside the mansion and a red-haired middle-aged man.
The chubby, bespectacled red-haired man came up with watery eyes.
Before Moray could even speak, Thomas waved to him and got directly into the car. As soon as the car started, Thomas adjusted his tie, and started speaking without any expression:
"Contact the heads of all departments of Wayne Enterprises... I want to audit the accounts."
At Kent Farm in Smallville, another delicious and hearty meal had ended.
Diana and Lois, who had previously helped with the cooking, were leisurely digesting on the sofa, while Clark and Bruce, who had not been able to participate in the food preparation, were washing dishes in the kitchen.
Clark, wearing gloves, gently tapped the edge of the plate and said, ".... See? You have to do it like this, swirl it around like this, hold the edge of the plate with the sponge and scrub it around. Then it will become very clean. Have you never washed dishes at your home?"
"Don't ask stupid questions." Bruce retorted without expression, while clumsily holding the plate and rotating it.
He then bent over to glance at the bottom of the cupboard, and asked doubtfully, "Don't you have a dishwasher at your place? Why wash dishes by hand?"
"My mom insists that the dishwasher doesn't clean properly." Clark shook his head and said, "Since we bought it, we've only ever used the drying function... Oh, right, after you finish washing, don't put the plate to the side, put it in the dishwasher for drying and sterilizing."
Bruce shook his head, clearly not agreeing with this view, but he didn't say anything and continued to wash the dishes.
Bruce looked serious and focused, as if the dish in his hands wasn't a dish at all, but some high-tech part that could change the future of mankind.
Clark glanced at him and found it somewhat amusing, so he actually laughed.
"What are you laughing at?" Bruce asked irritably, turning his head.
"Hahahaha, nothing, I just think... I just think it's kind of funny, hahaha. I've never seen anyone washing dishes so seriously, hahaha!" Clark laughed louder and louder, almost unable to catch his breath.
Bruce looked at him as if he were a fool while pressing his lips. When he looked back, he found that the two women in the living room had been attracted by Clark's laughter, and were now peeking over here.
To stop Clark's silly laughter, Bruce looked around, then scooped up a big handful of bubbles from the mixture of water and detergent in the sink, and splashed it on Clark's face.
Clark immediately retaliated, scraping the foam from his hands and plate, and splashed it on Bruce's forehead.
Who is Bruce? Batman never plays the fool. He wiped his forehead, quickly scooped out more than half of the foam from the sink, and smeared Clark's face with even more foam.
Clark counterattacked, and it wasn't long before they were both covered in foam. Just when this foam fight was still undecided, a familiar scream suddenly came from the door.
"Clark!!! You're a grown man, and you're still playing with water??!!!"
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