American Comics: Opening Guidance Batman

"Hello? Help me transfer to His Excellency Godfather, thank you."

"Good afternoon, Godfather. I want to discuss a business with you..."

In the office of the Arkham Psychiatric Hospital, Schiller put down the phone. He tugged at the line, blew the dust off the receiver, poured himself a glass of wine, picked up the old-fashioned phone, dialed in a circle, and said: "Hello? Brand? You're in Hawaii? ... No, don't worry, take your vacation, I can handle it."

After a while, Bruce came in and put a stack of papers in front of Schiller, Schiller said, "It's off work, do you want a drink?"

"Thank you, I don't drink."

"You seem a little haggard."

"After all, I haven't slept for almost fifty hours."

"Of course, your new giant bat spotlight has been on recently, and all Gotham knows there's a Batman."

"But..." Bruce sighed, he hesitated and said, "Have a drink, thanks."

"What can make Batman drink to relieve his worries?"

"I don't think I should do that," Bruce said. "The bat doesn't have lights and shouldn't have lights."

Before Schiller could ask, Bruce said, "I've set up six bat beacons all over Gotham, and they've been on 25 times in the past few days, 19 of which are pranks."

"So, I designed insurance for them. After that, I received 12 requests for help, all of which were gangsters and asked me to support them."

"I didn't allow the gangs to use them, and they tried their best to destroy them. Of course, I designed security procedures, and it worked well. There were poor people and beggars to press them, and then the next day, they were killed by the gangs."

Bruce covered his face, he took a deep breath, then took a sip of wine, he swallowed the wine with difficulty, and said, "No one is saved, and no one is allowed to be saved, if this is Gotham, I will say , well, I thought it was too simple."

"I knew... no bat would light a light," Bruce finally said.

"I suggest you take a few days off, when you have a problem, sacrifice the rest time to solve it, and then you encounter a new problem, and continue like this, it's a vicious cycle, you have to stop, it's useless."

Bruce said a little tiredly: "Okay, I'll go back to sleep, I'll come to work tomorrow, make copies of medical records, answer the phone, make rounds, whatever."

The next day, Bruce did go to work on time as he said. Schiller was already sitting in the office, drinking a cup of steaming coffee. Bruce also made himself a cup of Americano and started to read with a paper.

After the meeting, a female nurse knocked them in and said, "Doctor, Andrei from Room 5 on the second floor has been arguing. He has been asking the nurse to increase the dose of morphine analgesics, otherwise he will complain to us. ."

Without raising his head, Schiller said plainly, "Give it to him, three times the market price, and five times the price."

Bruce nearly choked on the coffee.

"Byrd on the third floor wanted us to prescribe him a headache medicine, and he was having trouble last night."

"Tell him that the pill seller fell off the guardrail yesterday and landed on the ground. There is no stock now."

"The one in Ward 6..." Schiller flipped through the file and said, "...Hall is still Goyle, isn't there a way? Let him send someone in, and we'll deal with him."

After the nurse left, before Bruce could speak, the phone rang again, and Schiller picked up the phone while looking at the file.

"Hello? The whisky is cut off?... Yes, the last bottle is with me. Who said that he had a bar in his hand that day? Let me see... No. 1 on the fourth floor, let him lead a line from the bar and tell Don't fool him with parallel imports, or I'll give him a diagnosis sheet for permanent treatment recommendations..."

Schiller hung up the phone, then picked up the handset to dial, and said to the other end:

"Tell them that killers will not be allowed to enter. To enter, they must have a gate pass, $100,000 a piece, $50,000 for the gate of the inpatient department, and an additional $30,000 for wear and tear on the third floor and above, buy a full package and send a security patrol map... "

"Hello? Yesterday, the equipment department said that the brain wave machine was broken. Whose person is No. 2 on the fifth floor? Old Bender in the East District? Donate a machine, let him take the person away, and come over to get rehabilitation advice later."

After hanging up, Bruce said, "Professor..."

Before he could finish speaking, the phone rang again, and Schiller picked it up and said, "Hello? ... No deal? Tell him that the twin brothers in the south are asking for $500,000, and it's not a buyout. If he doesn't agree, then He doesn't even want to get a penny for the liquor business here."

"Hello? No, now the Falcone family is in charge of the security of the Arkham Asylum. If he wants to break in, let him come, and the godfather greets him."

Schiller just hung up the phone, Bruce saw the opportunity and said, "Is there something wrong with this..."

"Hello? How many people will there be tomorrow?... No, no, that little vulture can't squeeze much oil and water, it's far worse than his father, let him go to prison, I won't take **** here... He got his father's property. Well? Well, ward No. 7 on the second floor is reserved for him...what? A medical certificate? That's another price..."

"...put off the remaining three until next month, let the judge find a reason, diarrhea or something, there is no place on the fifth floor...and there is a policeman? Black police? Was discovered?...We accept this Mental illness, intellectual disability is not accepted, if you want to come in, go to his old employer..."

"Who else? No, he can't...has been caught? Then let the police put the evidence back and look for the Brock, he will understand..."

When Schiller finished his work, when he looked up, Bruce was staring at him, his eyes were very complicated, a bit of "how could this be" shock, and a bit of "it really is" contempt.

"Don't look at me, the hospital is doing fine now, isn't it?"

"but……"

Bruce opened his mouth. He wanted to question Schiller, but he didn't know where to start.

"I did a business with Falcone, he manipulated the black gloves to provoke some gangsters with oily water, and then let the police chief under his hand arrest people for trial, I gave them a psychiatric diagnosis certificate, and let them go to the hospital, as for the later , it depends on whether their owner or the enemy has paid more."

Bruce stared at Schiller, and Schiller spread his hands and said, "What? It's incredible? Or do you really think I'm a good guy like Harvey? What makes you feel this way?"

Bruce was speechless.

In the next few days, Bruce watched as Schiller couldn't beat him and joined... No, not yet, but creatively created a new Gotham-style industrial chain out of thin air.

His good professor merged into Gotham at the speed of light with a posture of never looking back and riding the dust, and he was better than blue.

But Bruce couldn't say anything. In this perfect Gotham industrial chain, only the gangsters were injured.

Consequentially, the gangs were cheated of money, the Arkham mental hospital quickly established order, the medical staff were also safe, and the various gang members in the hospital were even more obedient. When Bruce went to the ward round, he found that the gang The boss of the gang would say thank you to the hell!

They thought that Bruce was a doctor and could give them painkillers. Several gang bosses saw that he was close to Schiller, and they handed him cigar covers every day, trying to let Schiller let go and let them bring the thread in. .

Once, Bruce went to see a case with Schiller, and when he was resting, he heard the gang boss next door chatting.

"Colt's a bad boy, a complete bastard, he got his own absinthe, and he had the other house smashed, just to monopolize the liquor business here, he had a conflict with the twins..."

"If you want me to say, he did it very neatly. After all, it is a big business of several million dollars."

"Really so many?"

"The redhead downstairs made 20,000 yuan a week by selling cigarettes here! Who doesn't smoke here? Who doesn't smoke cigars? He can get good stuff from the wharf, and there are people who come in deliberately just to get this. A smuggling line..."

"Room 2 has also made a fortune. Who knows that he had good luck and got on the line with His Excellency Godfather. Next quarter, he will have another restaurant."

"When the nurses come over, they put out the cigarettes. Be careful to anger those girls. They are all black widows under the hands of Mother Hearts..."

In the past few days, what he saw in this hospital gave Bruce a very complicated and tangled feeling.

What would he do in his place, Bruce thought? He thought about it for a long time, and then admitted that he really hadn't come up with a more efficient and fair way.

One night, Schiller was in the ward and said to a woman without feet: "It's not bad, the medicine is already working, and the excitement will disappear soon..."

The woman was lying on the bed, very calm, or a little numb, as if she couldn't hear Schiller, but Schiller said to herself: "There have been a lot of cases recently, but it doesn't matter, the psychiatric treatment is almost over... …”

His voice was well suited to such a night, always with a calming power.

When Schiller turned around, he found Batman standing behind him. Batman said in a low voice, "Why did she get transferred here?"

"You cured this beggar's physical problems and completed the amputation operation for her, but she has some congenital mental problems and was sent in before..."

Schiller glanced at Batman, the corners of his mouth were always down, and he was always colder and sharper than during the day, making it difficult to approach.

"You seem surprised, what? You don't think I'll just go with the gang, do you? What makes you feel this way?"

Batman remained silent, and Schiller ignored him, turned, turned the head of the woman's bed down, and pulled the sheets up.

Schiller didn't watch Batman, but asked himself, "Are you disappointed?"

"For this city that doesn't appreciate it, for those who aren't worth saving, and don't let you save anyone?"

"Do you think the Batlight decision was the right one?" Batman's deep voice echoed in the ward.

Schiller paused and said:

"Don't be disappointed. The black sun is also the sun, and bats really don't turn on lights, but in the dark night, the lights that bats turn on are lights~www.NovelMTL.com~ The cold light shines on the white bed sheets of the hospital, and Schiller leans over, Flatten the corner sheets.

Outside the window, the night in Gotham was still dimly lit. Schiller stood up straight and turned his head to look out the window. Batman saw that Schiller was facing the light, and the moonlight cast a long shadow behind him.

Batman looked up, and he saw that on most of the walls and ceiling was his shadow, a pitch-black bat with pointed ears.

The bat doesn't know how to light a lamp. He doesn't even have a lamp that can illuminate himself. There has never been a lamp in this world for him, and there has been no firefly for many years.

But now, the bat still decided to learn to light a lamp, for the dark night here, for this incurable city.

Batman also looked out the window, looking at the dotted, barely visible lights in the darkness, he thought, if this city full of absurdities, one day the sun will not rise again, then at least in the end. On the eve of the night, in this faintly lit cold night, there was still a lamp that he lit.

A light that is useless and useless.

A bat lights a lamp.