American comic Gotham, the sheriff of Arkham

Wayne Manor.

Alfred looked at his troublesome master Bruce Wayne with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Look, this outfit should be fine for me, right?" Bruce adjusted his tie and walked down the stairs.

"Where are your cufflinks?"

Alfred frowned and said, he was like the most picky and demanding judge in the world, not missing any details.

"This..." Bruce lifted up his empty cuffs and took a look. Alfred hurried forward and put on the two buttons with the Wayne family crest on his cuffs for Bruce.

"You represent the face of the Wayne family, otherwise they will say you don't know etiquette." Alfred straightened his collar, took two steps back, and looked at him carefully.

"You can set off now. Don't keep Miss Talia waiting. That's not gentlemanly behavior. We have prepared a car for you outside. It's a gray Ferrari. It suits your temperament and is very low-key."

“It’s a nasty moment.”

Bruce shook his head helplessly. His time should not be wasted here, but he had to go to the charity gala tonight.

"Master Bruce, take care."

Alfred watched Bruce get into the Ferrari sports car, and as the engine started to roar, they gradually drove away from the manor.

A gust of night wind blew by, and the empty Wayne mansion, under the lights in the hall, looked a little lonely and desolate.

Alfred glanced around, turned around and walked back into the hall. Looking at an oil painting on the wall of the stairs that was covered with a white cloth to block out the dust, he walked over and pulled the cloth down.

Behind the slowly falling white cloth was a skillfully painted oil painting, in which young Bruce was sitting between Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, with a happy smile on his face.

"Master Thomas..." Alfred looked up at the painting, memories of the past emerging before his eyes.

When people get old, they always recall every little thing in the past.

The sound of footsteps came from the door, like the sound of a wooden stick poking the ground, and Alfred turned his head to look.

The door handle of the main door was turned by someone from outside.

The classical brass-engraved door handle, after being turned a few times, released the lock spring and was pushed open.

Alfred's eyes turned cold. A thief is coming...

A silver dinner knife slipped from his sleeve into his hand, and he held it between his fingers and hid it in his palm.

After Bruce ran away from home, Alfred has been guarding Wayne Manor. He has dealt with countless guys who have been drooling over this place.

The door was pushed open, and a guy wearing torn sack clothes and carrying a scarecrow stood at the door.

Those thumping noises just now were the sound of the stick under the scarecrow poking the floor.

There was a stick figure of Batman pasted on the scarecrow's face. Jonathan, who was wearing a torn sack mask, looked at Alfred, who was standing on the stairs with an old look on his face.

Suddenly he lost some interest in the task assigned to him by Strange. He thought that he was just an old man and it was not worth his making such a fuss about it.

When Aldred looked at the stick figure drawing on the scarecrow's face, he knew that this person had bad intentions, but he was mentally prepared for this.

Jonathan placed the scarecrow against the wall, stretched his neck, walked towards Aldred, and took out a short stick from his waist, with an arc of electricity popping out of it.

It is a physical hypnosis device used in mental hospitals to deal with some seriously ill patients who resist fiercely. It is very suitable for Scarecrow Jonathan in his hands.

"Sir, it is not a good idea to barge into someone else's home without an invitation."

Alfred said in a steady voice, his eyes fixed on Jonathan's figure, and he clenched the dinner knife hidden in his palm.

"Nothing, I just want to invite you to participate in a practical activity. You can think of it as a grand trial!"

Jonathan had a playful look in his eyes as he walked up the stairs, step by step, towards Alfred.

"Oh, trial? Trial of whom?" Alfred asked curiously, because this word reminded him of some bad things.

For example...the Court of Owls.

"Batman, Bruce Wayne!" Scarecrow Jonathan said the name with a smile.

It's really hard to believe that the richest second-generation rich man and famous playboy in this city is actually enforcing justice in this city at night?

This is truly the funniest joke of the century.

Jonathan walked up to Alfred, the electric baton in his hand making crackling sounds.

"As a witness, you need to be present!"

After Jonathan finished speaking, he stabbed Alfred with the electric baton in his hand.

"Please allow me to refuse. What I hate most is arguing in court." Alfred kicked out, using his polished leather shoes, and kicked Jonathan's wrist accurately.

Jonathan felt a pain in his wrist and the electric baton in his hand flew out. Alfred raised his hand and punched Jonathan in the face with a standard French boxing posture.

The sudden attack caused Jonathan to fall backwards and roll down the stairs. He fell to the ground and couldn't get up.

Alfred moved his right hand, looked at the cracked skin, and said with a sigh: "If it was ten years ago, I wouldn't have used a second move to kill you."

As he spoke, Alfred walked downstairs and put the dinner knife in his pocket. This was a piece of Victorian silver cutlery that he had collected when he worked at MI6.

How could such a stupid little thief want to come here?

Alfred didn't quite understand, but that didn't stop him from sending the thing to the cellar. When the farm delivered the milk tomorrow morning, he would mail it to the next city.

Just as Alfred reached out to grab Jonathan, Jonathan, who was lying motionless on the ground, suddenly raised his hand with his fingertips pointing at Alfred's face.

There were five tiny nozzles on the fingertips of the linen gloves, which suddenly sprayed out light green fear gas.

"Ah!" Alfred quickly raised his hands to cover his eyes. He thought it was something like explosion-proof pepper spray.

But the next moment, he fell to the ground, and the surrounding Wayne mansion turned into a burning battlefield, with the sound of artillery shells whistling in the sky.

The area nearby was bombed into scorched earth. A soldier ran over, but was shot through by a bullet the next second. He fell to the ground helplessly, looking at Alfred with his eyes wide open.

"Shulia!" Alfred recognized the man. He was his former comrade-in-arms and his best brother!

Just as he stretched out his hand to grab it, his whole body trembled and he fell to the ground...

"This old thing..." Jonathan held the electric baton and covered his face. He was still dizzy from the previous punch.

Jonathan stretched his neck and began to check the things around him. He took out a tape recorder from his pocket, placed it on the steps, and placed the scarecrow next to it.

The Scarecrow is wearing an Arkham Asylum hospital gown with the number 3124 on it.

Jonathan reached out and grabbed Alfred, who was electrocuted, and walked outside. Alfred turned over while being dragged away, and the knife in his pocket fell to the ground.