The idea of ​​getting worse was put on hold because of my physical inconvenience.

But Jason went to see the cunning rabbit for me, and expressed my sincere greetings to the cunning rabbit who was transferred to the Black Gate Prison today.

Jason, I know you well.

I am the most optimistic about his ability to pull ridicule. I have already imagined that guy jumping in anger.

Speaking of the fact that the cunning rabbit was caught, it can only be said that it was a coincidence.

On the second day after I was injured and passed out, Gotham was in chaos, and the person who led it was Qiaotu.

But this guy didn't know if it was bad luck or something. When he was setting up the trouble scene and was about to slip away, Jason drove his cool big motorcycle passing by. He sneaked into the motorcycle without looking at the road.

Jason was on his way, and this guy didn't look like a good person, so he took out a rope and tied him to the streetlight next door - the Gotham Police Department would send people to follow them to pick up people and bring them back - and then slipped away on a motorcycle .Halfway through the slip, he remembered that he looked familiar, so he took a detour back to find someone.

Then the culprit of the whole incident was caught on the spot, and Jason took a gun to search the place where the sly rabbit came out.

This trouble was forcibly interrupted and the big move was released, leaving only the people under Jiutu and the clown gang led by Harley Quinn looking for clowns everywhere to make trouble outside.

Other forces have long been tucking their tails between their tails to see if the situation is wrong. After all, my father has been patrolling very strictly these days, and those who are arrogant are lying in hospitals or black market clinics.

After I inquired about the ins and outs of the matter, I was speechless.

Although I usually call it a stupid rabbit and call this organization a stupid organization, I really didn't expect them to be so stupid.

How do you say it?Before starting a business, the middle road collapsed.

Tut tut, it deserves it.

I don't know exactly what his arrangement was in Gotham at that time. My dad didn't explain this to me.

He had a way to contact the Special Case Office, so he contacted there directly.

I don't know who will escort the cunning rabbit.

Because it's none of my business, I have no curiosity about the people who come.

Recently, the Special Cases Office seems to have some new policy, recruiting a lot of new people, I don't necessarily know the people who came.

But I never expected that it was Zierbach who came.

He took the special plane of the Special Case Office, and he was going to stay here for two to three days. Gotham Airport...unfortunately, was bombed in the chaos ahead, and the only one who was willing to let the special plane stay was my old man. Dad.

As an employee of the Special Cases Office, I received them with my dad in a wheelchair.

Five people came, and Zierbach was leading the team—speaking of which, how did he get into the Special Case Office?

"Me? I'm a temporary worker!" Knowing my doubts, Zierbaha replied with a smile.

"You know, I really cherish my little life." He said, "A little accident, I offended Hydra while eating melons, so I went to the special case office to avoid it for a while."

"When are you still afraid?" I looked him around and joked.

"A person is floating in the rivers and lakes, how can he not be stabbed." He said, "The Special Case Office seems to be more reliable than that bureau with an outrageous name."

After chatting for a few words, he went to find my dad affectionately.

My father injured his hand two days ago, and now it is wrapped in gauze. When he saw it, he raised it: "Hey, I said you have suffered a lot of blood and light!"

My dad received this familiar guy with a stiff smile.

During the day, Zierbach came to know my father and he could only entertain people outside Bruce Wayne with a smile.

In the evening, my dad in Batman's armor appeared quietly in Zielbach's room-not Wayne Mansion, of course.

And I—we, I and everyone are watching my dad's rare narrow-minded revenge.

"The old man is sometimes very small-minded."

The above is what Jason said, and it's none of my business.

Who cares?Anyway, I'm not narrow-minded.

-

After sending Zilbach away, my online life in Gotham returned to peace.

It can be said that most of the things I encountered in Gotham were related to the idiot Jiutu.

The White family was kidnapped, attacked at a birthday party, and injured this time.

These are all his handwriting.

Except I had trouble with the Riddler, and once he strayed into a crime scene and once he grabbed my Dakota.

90.00% of my ups and downs in Gotham were brought to me by these two.

Kind of a pity.

If the Riddler had been on the scene with the Joker, I might have killed him first.

——The two of us are really at odds with each other.

After my life settled down, I diligently made up the missed lessons.

Every time I go out, there are accidents. The lesson from the past is here. I will happily continue to stay at home in the next decision. No one can pull me out.

The injury on the body needs to be healed for at least a week.

I can barely walk on my own now, but Alfred still supervises my medication every day.

Coupled with some treatment, the wound healed very quickly.

There is a very interesting thing.

I couldn't walk around on my own because of the injury, let alone a yoga class.

But every class of yoga has new movements to learn.

These actions are related to my final grades, and I was worried for a while.

It is even more difficult to learn the tricks without practicing fake moves, and I still watch the teacher's movements through a screen.

And then Dick -- who happened to be back in Gotham on vacation -- he volunteered to take a yoga class with me.

It's not that he doesn't believe that he can do yoga, the main reason is that Dick doesn't look very reliable.

"What is unreliable!" After listening to my worries, Dick showed me his superior body flexibility angrily.

... Is this really an action that a human being can make?

For Dick's display, I, who is not very hard but not very soft-boned, expressed my surprise.

As expected of you, Flying Grayson.

-

I mentioned to my dad before that I wanted to play extreme sports with him. Although it didn't happen at the time, I still wanted to go.

But because of safety issues, and my injuries are still not fully healed—yes, this is the reason—my dad took me to play archery.

Without going out, it was in Wayne Manor.

Wayne Manor has a huge entertainment room, which has everything, including room for arrows.

The people in the family are all very good, you know, the vigilante family.

You can tell how powerful they are by looking at how they usually throw darts without spending time aiming.

This archery time became a family weekend get together and everyone came back.

A huge bat family gathered together, and enthusiastic Dick invited everyone to hold an archery competition.

At first, no one paid attention to him, but the eldest son of the family, he was obviously familiar with the characters of other members of the family.He provoked everyone's desire to win with a few words, and the atmosphere became tense instantly, and the air smelled of gunpowder.

Unsurprisingly, after a round of archery, they had a "friendly and intimate" exchange with their fists and the weapons they could get.

My dad wasn't involved, he was trying to get me to put an arrow on the target.

But sorry, my accuracy is really bad.

I failed my father's careful teaching, not to mention ten rings, my best score is seven rings.

My dad is better at aiming with his knees than I am.

But my dad just doesn't believe in evil, just like he doesn't believe in his cooking skills, he tried to make me hit the heart-even if it was just an arrow.

I also couldn't figure out why I couldn't aim correctly even though my posture was fine and my movements were standard.

"Don't struggle, dad, my aim is really bad." I advised my dad to give up.

I used to be the bottom of the class in the shooting class. I never took the sniper mission. The person who arranged the mission knew my accuracy and never dared to let me do this kind of mission.

The only time when the accuracy is good is when you bombard the clown with a rocket in your dream.

In other words, my quasi-head can only get better by dreaming.

"Maybe something is badly written in the DNA." I said.

"No, your mother's a good shot," my dad said.

"Then I'm a genetic mutation." I shrugged.

I have no way to control the inheritance of this kind of thing, just like I was lucky not to inherit my dad's poor cooking skills - after all, his cooking skills are really just eating people who can't die - it's all a matter of character, There is really no way to light up the shooting talent.

In the end, my dad gave up on making my head look better. When he gave up, he had a bit of vicissitudes on his face, as if to say "I tried my best".

The two of us let each other go and sat down happily to drink tea and snacks.

For me, my dad has always expressed a lot of emotions in front of me since I was a child-maybe it was requested by my mother-although he is not good at expressing, he is very good at action.

So he has always been the image of an old father who is not good at words in my heart.

That side of Batman was very foreign to me instead.

As Batman, he is calm and powerful, has an overall view and is good at weighing pros and cons, and has countless backup plans-how do you say that?Batman always has Plan B.

I haven't been to Gotham for many years, but this time I stayed for a few months and discovered a new face of my family, which is quite novel.

But it seems nothing.

Don't I also have a secret identity that I keep from my mother?

Even if it's Batman, I'm still quietly doubting my life because of my poor accuracy.

Admit it, Dad, some things are just engraved in DNA and cannot be changed! ! !

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