He may have a point… but—this was Batman we're talking about!
Suspicious.
Extremely suspicious.
Batman replayed the moment Leo pulled out that medkit.
No chants. No gestures. Not even the slightest ripple in the air. The item just appeared in his hand. It didn't look like a magical ability at all.
Subspace storage tech?
If that's the case, how could he counter or restrict this ability…
Leo, seeing Batman's classic "criminal profiling stare," knew instantly that the guy was overthinking again.
Some people just had persecution complexes baked into their bones—paranoid to the core.
"So? Are you buying it or not? If not, I'm taking it back!"
Offering life-saving meds and getting this level of distrust? Leo was already beyond numb.
"Let me see it."
Batman didn't say he'd buy it—just "let me see."
Correction: he didn't just say it—he reached out and grabbed it.
Leo hesitated, but let him have it.
The most unforgettable thing about Batman was his utter disregard for price tags. Every movie and show had him buying up restaurants, bars, even banks. Compared to multi-million-dollar splurges, a medkit was chump change.
Batman rested the emergency medkit on his lap and immediately began reading the label.
He'd noticed earlier that the box had extensive markings. Just from intuition, he knew there'd be valuable info there.
Due to the special design, the integrated meds couldn't be removed separately. Still, each vial was labeled with names and usage instructions—which was enough for someone like him to glean crucial intel.
Rapid coagulant, high-efficiency antibiotics, tissue-repair gel, pain inhibitors, energy stimulants, antidotes, neural stabilizers…
Immunosuppressant?
Most of the contents made sense. But why would a medkit contain that much immunosuppressant? Organ transplant-level dosage?
Batman frowned, deep in thought. Meanwhile, Leo started to get impatient.
"Are you buying or not? Quit fondling it. You bleed all over my product, I won't be able to resell it!"
That finally made Batman glance at him.
With one hand, he pressed a hidden latch on the side of the kit. A small compartment popped open, revealing alcohol swabs, compression wraps, and other standard supplies.
After confirming it was just a medkit—and not booby-trapped or bugged—Batman took a deep breath and scanned his injuries.
…Maybe it really was time to use it.
Just to be safe, he muttered:
"Alfred, keep an eye on him."
"Of course, Master Wayne."
Leo rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, backing off slightly.
Then he watched as Batman placed his left hand into the medkit's recessed slot, triggering the auto-diagnostic function.
Tiny internal servos whirred to life, scanning his body and delivering the exact right doses.
The whole process took less than two minutes—efficient, precise, and bleeding with high-tech vibes.
Another few minutes passed. The drugs kicked in. Batman's tightly clenched lips loosened, and the tension in his muscles visibly eased.
It really was a high-tech product—clearly from a level of medical science beyond this timeline.
He pulled out some gauze and wraps to finish dressing his wounds.
Leo had tried to help, too—customer service and all—but one look from Batman had him pulling his hand back.
Alright, alright. Ungrateful bastard.
Once he finished treating himself, Batman closed the medkit and set it by his foot.
Leo reminded him:
"It's single-use. The system only runs once."
Batman didn't reply. He was already planning to take the thing back and reverse-engineer it.
Then he remembered the pneumatic injector Leo had shown earlier.
"I want that too."
"One healing item's enough. Overmedicating just stresses your body."
"I'm buying it."
"Now we're talking!"
Leo instantly fished it out and handed it over, grinning like a fox.
This was what rich people were for. Dropping 250K on medicine without blinking.
"I'll pay you tomorrow."
Batman began examining the injector. It didn't look like any tech from this century…
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the safehouse.
Batman didn't linger. He changed into civilian clothes, slapped on some light makeup, and prepared to head back to Wayne Tower in a modest-looking million-dollar car.
Leo… well, he scored a new coat and a baseball cap.
"Cover your face. Don't look up. Or better yet… can you turn off your device jammer? Seriously, in Gotham, the second people see that blurry pixelated mess you call a face, they know it's you."
"…"
Leo reluctantly disabled his ocular scanner's jamming effect.
He liked that feature—earlier, a bunch of people had tried filming him. Without it, his face would've been all over the net.
But whatever. He was already walking side-by-side with Batman. Sooner or later, someone would put the pieces together.
Once both were in disguise, they climbed into the luxury car.
This time, Batman gave Leo the driver's seat.
"There's GPS. Keep it steady. Go through the main entrance of Wayne Tower—I figure some reporters are still camped out."
"You're in this state and still taking interviews?" Leo blinked.
"No," Batman looked out the window. "I need to show my face. Pretend I'm not hurt. Keep certain people from getting ideas."
"Ahh, gotcha. Maintaining the image. Life sure is hard for Gotham's richest man…"
Leo focused on the road, now fully playing the chauffeur role.
Soon, they reached Wayne Tower.
Leo slowed down per Batman's instructions, letting some professional-looking reporters crowd the car.
"Mr. Wayne! Is it true there was a terrorist attack at your fundraiser? How do you respond?"
"You weren't at the party—did you leave early because you knew about the attack?"
"What's your take on—"
The flood of questions came fast and unfiltered.
Bruce cracked the window halfway. A faint whiff of alcohol drifted out.
"I'd love to answer you all, but I stepped out for a date and missed everything. Maybe try asking the police instead."
Even under the flash of cameras, his disguise held perfectly—no trace of pain or weakness on his face.
"Alright, folks, I really gotta go catch up. Have a good night."
He waved lazily like the carefree playboy he was pretending to be—an act so flawless, even Leo was impressed.
Once the show was over, Leo drove them into the underground garage.
Bruce led him to the private elevator. Only when the doors shut did his breathing grow labored.
Sweat ran down his neck in beads. If he weren't wearing such a thick coat, the whole shirt would be soaked.
Catching Leo's look, he casually hit the top-floor button.
"My doctor's here. You wait in the lounge. Alfred will sort out a place for you to stay."
Leo shrugged.
Figures.
No way Batman was letting him go so easily.
If he weren't injured, this would probably be "interrogation time."
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