[Comprehensive British and American] Gotham Nightingale

Bruce couldn't help but froze for a moment.

Those clear and bright cobalt blue eyes were covered with a layer of water vapor. When she stared vigilantly and viciously at her, there was not only the immature ferocity of a small beast that tore and devoured flesh and blood, but also the fierceness that cannot be ignored. A pure, straightforward, innocent audacity.

Like a fire burning on the sea, it seems unreasonable, but it is endless.

It's also like wrought iron wrapped in silk, seemingly non-aggressive, but always ready to throw a sharp blow when you underestimate her.

Bruce subconsciously showed her a very "Dark Knight", very "Bruce Wayne" smile.

But the little girl's eyes didn't relax, she opened her eyes wide, and her slender hands tightly grasped a short pen.

The snowflakes flying all over the sky stopped drifting so wildly at some point, and without the barrier of wind and snow, Bruce finally saw his reflection in her cobalt blue eyes—more than one reflection.

The man in a suit and leather shoes covered with a cashmere coat, and the woman wearing a strange half mask looked at each other through a pair of childish eyes.

At this moment, Bruce was so shocked that a layer of cold sweat broke out on his entire back.

After more than ten years of extreme human body training, Bruce Wayne has almost never met someone who "does not exist" in his perception.

He turned sideways abruptly, avoiding the unidentified girl who appeared behind him at some point—the big movement happened to bump into the hair tip floating slowly from behind.

The wind was still strong, and the women in the mask were blown up, and their swaying ink-colored curly hair was like a sail flying in the sea breeze, bringing a woody fragrance mixed with the smell of gunpowder.

She seemed to glance at Bruce for a moment—or not—at Bruce's violent reaction.

Her gaze was firmly locked inside the house, looking at the vigilant child through the gap in the dilapidated wooden door.

Bruce noticed that she also had a pair of cobalt blue eyes, but the color was richer than that of the children in the room, and when viewed from a different angle, there was a hint of gilt gold.

About heterochromia?As he guessed like this, the vigilance in his heart remained undiminished.

At the same time, he also realized that the furious vigilance of the child in the room was not directed at him, but at this woman who looked extremely dangerous.

"...What's going on outside?"

Inside the house, the boy who sensed something was wrong asked aloud.

He lifted up the white-washed quilt and wanted to get off the ground, but was pushed back by the little girl beside the bed, and then walked towards the door alone.

Out of the corner of his eye Bruce noticed that she had reached out to support the wall with the hand holding the pencil just as she was about to reach the door.

This action is actually redundant, since Bruce found out, the other uninvited guest who was facing the door should also find out.

But she didn't respond.

The tall girl watched the little girl whose height was less than her thigh approach, her eyes traced the child's face inch by inch, as if she was looking at an acquaintance she hadn't seen for a long time.

Bruce noticed that the pen in the child's hand was against her own wrist, and he didn't know why she had to be clutching something like an insecure baby—because she seemed calm beyond her years— —his gut told him she could do almost miraculous things with it.

...Why do you have this intuition?

Bruce's jaw clenched in confusion.

But this does not prevent him from reaching out to stop the two of them, evoking a cynical but unyielding polite smile: "I'm really sorry, ma'am, this child is on the list of Wayne Group's Morning Star Project, and there is no one other than her relatives. People can take her."

Whatever eccentricities the child may have, he is only a child under the age of six.

The little nightingale, which the boy called "Little Nightingale", was under his shadow, sharpening its sharp claws.

Bruce could sense that she seemed to have some level of trust in him—unwarranted trust—perhaps because she recognized him as a possible patron.

On the contrary, Nightingale, who was regarded as a bad person, stood outside "myself" and smiled clearly: "Trust him so easily? Oh... I remember you dreamed about him, didn't you?"

She was speaking to her young self.

The deliberately low voice is slightly hoarse, completely different from my own baby voice when I was a child.

From an angle that Bruce couldn't see, the little bird's slender body froze slightly, and poked its head out from behind him, its eyes were full of suspicion and scrutiny, with a hint of vigilance as if its neck was pinched in uncertainty.

The man stretched out his hand and pulled her closer behind him, but the young woman wearing a mask on the opposite side finally seemed impatient and said, "Come here."

It was obviously just a short phrase, without threats or temptations, but the child behind him suddenly ran out in a daze.

Her fluffy curly hair was placed on top of her small head, shaking up and down with the patter of her short short legs. From Bruce's angle, only the top of her head could be seen, and she couldn't see her panicked panic because she lost control of her body. expression.

Nightingale squatted down, stretched out her hand comfortingly, and touched "my" cheek: "Good boy."

Pale and slender fingers with smooth margins were attached to Xiaodouding's gray-and-black cheeks, and the index finger gently pressed against the temple, the skin under his hands trembled slightly due to tension and extreme anger.

No one knew her younger self better than her, so from the very beginning, Nightingale didn't intend to give Little Nightingale the opportunity to write.

Nightingale's thumb lightly brushed the child's eyebrows and eyes, as if turning stone into gold, and dots of bright golden light also emerged from the little nightingale's eyes.

At first it was a little bit of golden light, and then it became active, like strands of gossamer, crawling towards the temple, and then followed Nightingale's index finger to her blood vessels.

Bruce hadn't noticed anything wrong before.

Maybe it was because he judged from Nightingale's "I remember you dreamed about him" that they might have known each other before, or maybe it was because he inexplicably felt that the children might be mutants, thinking that they were the guide and the guided Identity... He hesitated for a moment.

But when the golden band of light connected from one side to the other, he suddenly realized that something was wrong.

On the one hand, he was amazed at why his vigilance had dropped so low, and on the other hand, he was amazed at the behavior of the masked woman—not weird, but made him feel familiar again, and he suddenly knew what the light belt represented. meaning.

Can be the transmission of ability.

It can also be unilateral deprivation.

She wanted this child...not to be a mutant again.

The author has something to say: These two chapters are not a normal world, you should have guessed it~

(The following are a few thoughts that have nothing to do with the article)

Dragonfly is in a, very awkward, state.

The time for studying abroad and graduating perfectly missed the school recruitment, and the social recruitment could not compete with experienced people.

During this period of time, there is a good opportunity to participate in work authorized by Marvel (that is, the time when I said in the notification bar that I was taking leave for the interview), and I have really been preparing for this.

For this job, I pushed down all the offers I got in the previous interviews, because this may be the only opportunity in my life that is closest to my Marvel dad... I really want to go.

However, after preparing for such a long time, I got the opportunity to give it a try, but in the end I didn't pass the interview because I didn't have relevant work experience.

It was like going back to before liberation.

So these days my status is quite bad, and the update is also very slow.

My family hopes to be a civil servant, but I want to stay in a big city but I have no job. The novel is not very popular. The five-year contract with Jinjiang will expire next year, but I have not achieved the ambition I made four years ago. , I want to rely on royalties to support my dream of full-time writing.

Ah... Sure enough, graduation season is scary.

I finished thinking about it.

PS: The novel will definitely be written all the time. After the contract is renewed, I will study and see. Don’t panic, everyone, it is impossible not to write, and it will not be possible in this life.

.Thanks to the little angels who voted for me to overlord or irrigate nutrient solution~

Thanks to the little angel who threw [grenade]: Ayu likes Mrs. Chongchong one;

Thanks to the little angel who irrigated [nutrient solution]:

Ayu likes Mrs. Chongchong 90 bottles; Night Breeze Light Dye 1 bottle;

Thank you very much for your support, I will continue to work hard!