[Comprehensive Yingmei] What kind of experience is it like to take online classes in Gotham?

In a quiet atmosphere, I quietly waited for my former colleague to bring me the final result.

Waiting for the final verdict, I inadvertently looked up and found that many people were surrounding me, and I was taken aback.

"What are you doing around me?" I asked them strangely.

[Is it convenient to speak? 】Tim held up his mobile phone, and these words were displayed on the mobile phone.

"It's convenient, tell me." I blinked.

"This...colleague on the phone, does he know anything about your knife?" Tim asked.

"Oh! I'll ask later." It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't figured out what happened to my Twilight.

After a while, a voice came from the other end of the phone.

First came the faint sound of conversation, then the sound of hurried footsteps.

The phone was picked up.

The first thing he said was——

"Sorry, Ruth, this time it's my fault."

"What pot?" I asked strangely.

"The researcher who developed Twilight—that is, the one who decides how many reports you will teach, she knows that you used Twilight to kill pigs."

"...?" I was puzzled, "How did she know?"

"Uh..." The other side faltered.

A flash of light appeared in my mind, and I blurted out: "Damn it, you're dating the boss of the research department?"

Silence is Cambridge tonight.

"...I shouldn't have made this call." I muttered to myself while holding the phone.

"So." I asked him, "The word count of this report..."

"Hey, my girlfriend said she wants to talk to you."

Before I could stop it, a woman's cold voice came from the other end of the phone.

"Black Snake, double the report." The pleasant voice said the words that could kill me, "After you return to China, come and hand in the report yourself."

...By handing in the report in person means that the report has to be written by hand.

"I……"

I wanted to say something to fight for it, but the other person interrupted me: "Tell me, what happened to Twilight at your hands." She asked.

I explained the whole story to her.

The focus is on the fact that the clown turned into ashes after being cut, and then led Damian to kill four pigs with Twilight as an experiment.

"It looks good." The other end of the phone said, let me explain Twilight's principle, "The ruby ​​on Twilight's handle is refined by me using a special method, modeled after the one called 'soul' Gem, I made a change."

"Twilight can cut off non-scientific powers, but because the people who use them don't have magical powers, all the energy it needs uses this gem. You know, when refining things, what is the final product? There is no way to control it. After refining the gem, I found that it is different from that 'soul' in that it only likes evil souls, and the more evil the better."

"I've heard about the clown you mentioned. It's what this gem likes. From the gem's point of view, every part of his body is full of sin. It's normal for him to be sucked dry by the gem."

Although the researcher has a cold personality, he will talk endlessly whenever he encounters her designs, that is, he regards the weapons and other things she designed as his own children, and each has a name.

That's why she was so angry at me for taking her cub to butcher a pig.

"What happened to Twilight's cool fire after the Joker was killed?" I asked her.

The researcher involved in the expertise was unbelievably enthusiastic - I mean relative to other times - and she answered my questions patiently.

"Although I haven't seen the real thing, I speculate that this kind of flame is an additional product derived from the gemstone inlaid on the handle. It's probably just garbage disposal?" She said very seriously.

For a moment, I wondered if she was joking or not.

"Because of the special nature of this gemstone when it was first refined, I didn't have a suitable idea to build a weapon around it. In the end, I could only make a gemstone that stores energy and inlay it on Twilight's body. I didn't expect to hit it by mistake. Let you poke a soul with Twilight that suits its appetite."

"Although this clown deserves to die, you actually asked Twilight to kill a pig." On the phone, she couldn't hear any emotion in her voice, "Forget about the clown, just use it as a material, and his word count will be erased, and the four pigs' Write the number of words properly, explain the scene at that time and the whole process of the clown's death, in detail."

"Can I not write by hand?" I asked humbly.

"No," she said, "but I don't mind if you can find someone else to write it for you."

I:! ! !

According to Jason, I was holding the outgoing phone at the time, and Tim was recording the main content of the phone - definitely not the recording of my call with doubled words - my eyes lit up at that time, Tim was so surprised that he took a half step back holding the computer, and even Damian in the distance could feel my malicious intentions.

——Because my malicious intentions were mainly aimed at Damian.

I answered Jason like this.

Can't live up to Damian's multiple PhD qualifications, can he?

Although he did not get a Ph.D., having the qualifications proves that he has the corresponding knowledge reserve.

As the main executor of killing pigs, he should be responsible for killing four poor pigs.

"They were going to be killed by the butcher, I just did it for them!" Damian appealed to himself.

But I can't hear anything anymore.

Even if the clown doesn't need to write, the four pigs will need 1 words, and if doubled, it will be [-] words.

With 1 words written by hand, my hand can be sent directly to the emergency room.

I was not one of the people who watched Damian kill the pig at the scene, and all the rain and dew were covered. My dad was dragged by me to help me add [-] words of very watery words to the report.

I am very familiar with asking Jason to help me write. In addition, he was a little bit wrong this time, so he helped me conceive [-] words.

Tim provided the analysis data of the clown's ashes and some messy data collected at the scene later - data that seemed to have nothing to do with the report itself but couldn't be said to be completely irrelevant. It was [-] words.

Damian was very affectionate to me—referring to telling him that if he didn’t help, I would stand by his bedside and watch him every night—understanding—referring to convincing people with his fists and fighting several times— —Under that, he agreed to help me write [-] words.

Then I wrote [-] words myself, and Dick helped me revise the final format based on his rich experience in writing reports late for work.

In the end, this report was completed by everyone. It witnessed the non-plastic sibling relationship of the Wayne family, and witnessed the love and care of my brothers and sisters.

Then it is worth mentioning that everyone's imitation handwriting is very good!

The whole report does not show at all that I only participated in the handwriting of [-] words!

-

My dear dad, Batman Ben, surprisingly didn't say anything to me about killing the Joker.

According to the laws of the state where Gotham belongs, I was also in self-defense at the time.Blame the clown if you want to blame, he deserves death.

In addition, the research department—that is, the researcher who doubled me, her authority is quite high—issued a disclaimer for weapon errors for me, and sent it over urgently.

The Gotham police were overjoyed about the death of the clown, but in order to prevent retaliatory crimes by clown fanatics, the news was suppressed.

After the Joker's death was more or less dealt with, my dad found the time to knock on my door and have a very casual conversation with me.

The subject of the conversation was not the death of the clown, but myself, running off to an appointment that was clearly a trap.

Speaking of which, I still don't know how my dad found me.

Seeing me bring this up, my dad had a look of surprise on his face.

"Dako found Ah Fu with the note you left in his mouth." My dad said, "Although studies have shown that the IQ of a goose is equivalent to that of a four- or five-year-old child, isn't it a little too smart?"

He showed me the video at home at that time.

——If my dad meant that Dake flapped his wings and opened the door of my bedroom, then walked around my room and then came to the table where I put the sticky notes and took away the sticky notes and instruments, yes , it's so smart.

Then Ah Fu saw the sticky note I wrote.

What was written on the note was [Look for someone, please operate the equipment, if you find me in the sea, please fish me up. 】

Because I was actually frightened by my weird dream.

I always feel that Qiaotu wants to sink me into the sea in reality, so I want to be just in case.

The instrument is a device that can activate the subcutaneous locator implanted in my body. I thought it would not be used when it was sent together with Tianzhaomumu last time.

I didn't expect it to be used in the end.

The function of this subcutaneous locator was originally to facilitate the special case office to send someone to collect the corpse.

Everyone in the Special Cases Office has been implanted, and they are all approved. The device for opening and positioning is placed in the personal storage box of the member, and it is usually opened only after a mission.

Before I was suspended, I gave this instrument to my former colleague to help keep it-I have a good relationship with him-but this time he sent it over and it was actually used.

This guy looks better than a little ghostbuster.

The reliable Alfred opened the locator, and he found that I was really submerged in the sea, so he notified my dad who was on night patrol outside.

At that time, my dad had already packed up the people who were doing illegal business near Gotham Bay and went to other districts farther away. After receiving the news, he went to scoop me up.

It turned out that I was late, and when I got to my positioning location, I saw two people lying on the ground, a pile of ashes.

I was lying in the bloody water, breathing weakly, and it seemed that I would die in a second. Another person—L-0243—was lying not far from me with severed limbs.

It looked really miserable.

I don't know if my dad was scared by me.

"Don't bet your life, Louise," my dad told me at the end of the conversation.

His expression was calm, but there was some emotion in his eyes that I couldn't understand—maybe he was really scared by me.

This time the conversation was relatively unserious, and my dad also brought me a piece of news.

During the few days when I was in a coma, he hired professional magicians to investigate my state.Professional magicians say that there is a magical weak energy in my body, which is similar to nightmares and can enter other people's dreams.

So I wasn't dreaming that time, but I ran into the dream of the stupid rabbit.

Because it is harmless to the human body, it is more troublesome to eliminate this energy, so professional magicians did not mention me to eliminate it, saying that it will disappear by itself after a while.

What is this magical source of energy - it's my mirror.

Yes, the same mirror that damned me.

I'm talking about tongue twisters.

Anyway, it's a principle I don't understand. The energy in this mirror ran into my body when I first touched it, making me see a ghost.

Then the remaining bit of energy lurked and probed one day, allowing me to have this ability.

Now the energy is slowly being consumed, and there is not much left, and nothing like this will happen after it is exhausted.

I may still be thankful for the energy though.

If I hadn't had that dream, I probably wouldn't have come back to leave a note.At home, Alfred is used to the children running away from home in the middle of the night, so he might not go to find me on purpose—at least my dad doesn’t come back so early.

Poor me, I might lie on the ground and die just like that, woo woo woo.

But after all, it was still the fault of the cunning rabbit.

My dad said they were caught two days ago, and I decided to go to the Gotham Police Department jail tomorrow to make a little noise.