Leo made his stance crystal clear: nonviolent noncooperation.
And frustratingly, Bruce really couldn't do anything about it.
He was a man of principle. He couldn't bring himself to use truth serums or enhanced interrogation tactics on someone who hadn't committed any crimes, hadn't killed anyone, and until recently hadn't even touched a real gun—a law-abiding civilian.
Even if that someone was an alien or a time traveler.
This was one of the iron rules Bruce had set for himself. No matter what, he couldn't cross that line.
Otherwise, he'd fall into the same madness as the criminals he fought—becoming the most dangerous madman of them all.
Bruce stopped pressing for Leo's real identity and instead shifted focus to the things Leo had said earlier.
"How did you recognize me? Do I get exposed in the future? What does Gotham become? And those three questions you mentioned…"
As the questions piled up, Leo wore a face of pure regret.
He knew it… all that big talk back then would come back to haunt him one day.
If he ever did get a time machine, the first thing he'd do would be to go back and slap himself silly—shut up, idiot!
But now?
Now he had to take a page from Gotham's greatest storyteller and spin Batman a tale.
"I come from a world more technologically advanced than this one. And I'm also a hacker. Unlike your local tech experts who need gear to get online, I'm always connected. Right now, I'm on the net."
Leo spread his hands wide and suddenly pointed to Bruce's coat.
"Your phone. I've sent you a text. If you prefer, I can even close my eyes and talk to you through the network."
Bruce pulled out his phone—and sure enough, there were several new messages.
At the top: his home Wi-Fi password.
Below that: random nonsense.
Even as Bruce watched, new messages kept popping in, seamlessly continuing Leo's monologue.
"My first arrival here was an accident. I was completely unprepared, which is how I got mixed up with those thugs. But ever since, I've been combing through your network, gathering data.
For example—the legendary Batman, Gotham's dark guardian."
Bruce remained expressionless at the flattery.
"Okay, fine. Seriously though, your gear clearly costs a fortune. That made me suspect Batman was some rich guy. Then I cross-referenced sightings and reports, building a profile. But what really confirmed your identity was this."
Snap.
Leo flicked his fingers, and a strange-looking USB stick appeared in his palm.
"Home Surveillance System!"
"A real treasure, truly!"
"With this, you can instantly identify suspects using security cameras. The AI can handle petty crimes by alerting police, and for anything beyond that, it notifies you directly. Tons of other features too.
Get this running in Gotham, and crime rates will drop like a rock."
As Pure White projected a set of pre-written ad lines into his prosthetic eye, Leo launched into a heartfelt sales pitch.
He used to be a desk-bound IT guy—salesmanship wasn't exactly his forte.
But who needed slick pitches when the product itself was top-tier tech?
"I know you've got facial recognition tech and whatnot. That's fine. Just test this trial version and see for yourself. The tech gap can't be bridged by genius alone—you're decades behind."
Leo made to place the USB stick on the table—
But Bruce snatched it midair before it landed.
Handling it cautiously, Bruce fiddled with the device until it made a quiet click, splitting open.
Inside was a crystal chip, shaped like a data card but with far more advanced design and materials.
"This is a data chip from my world. The outer casing makes it compatible with your… uh, antique tech. If you're interested, I might be able to get you the tech to build these. We could go into business."
Bruce didn't respond. He just reassembled the chip with practiced fingers.
This thing was both extremely valuable and potentially dangerous.
If it contained a future-era computer virus, it could be a nightmare.
He'd need to run it on an isolated system.
"So you used this to confirm my identity? …Fine. I'll decide after I check what's on it. Now, those other three questions you mentioned—"
"Ahem!"
A loud, deliberate cough cut him off.
They turned—and saw Leslie Thompkins, freshly washed and visibly annoyed.
"Bruce, I believe I told you to rest ASAP. Not to lounge in the living room chit-chatting and putting more strain on your body."
"Leslie…" Bruce said helplessly, "This is important…"
"Important enough that it can't wait until morning?"
The elderly doctor stormed forward, hands on hips, posture firm.
Leo watched, wide-eyed.
Was Batman actually getting scolded by an old lady? And losing??
"I—"
"Ahem!"
Another cough—this time from Alfred.
"Master Bruce, I assumed you were well enough to remain here. If not, then I agree with Dr. Thompkins—you should rest immediately."
The butler swiftly retrieved the freshly brewed tea and took it away.
Bruce was now flanked on both sides by commanding elders—and completely outmatched.
Leo couldn't help but laugh.
But as he laughed, Bruce turned to him with that classic poker face.
Leo, now uneasy, blinked and asked:
"What? They're the ones telling you to rest. Why glare at me? Go on, listen to them. You can talk to me tomorrow."
Bruce's face darkened, and he growled through gritted teeth:
"This. Is. My. House."
"Huh!?"
Leo froze for a moment—then it hit him.
Bruce was right.
This was his home.
If anyone should be leaving, it was Leo.
Damn. What a mess.
Leo got up awkwardly and followed Alfred, who chuckled warmly as he led him to the elevator.
"Your quarters are on the floor below. Will that be acceptable?"
"Perfect. No way I'm staying on the same floor as Batman. What if he sleepwalks and just stands over my bed staring at me?"
"Haha, not likely. Master Wayne prefers electronic surveillance."
Just as the elevator doors opened, Bruce's voice came from behind:
"You're not allowed to leave Wayne Tower—for now. Once I confirm you're not a threat, we'll talk again."
Leo waved over his shoulder without turning:
"Sure, sure. Just don't forget to pay me for the meds. And feel free to browse my product line. If you're not interested, I might try pitching it to the cops."
The elevator descended, carrying Gotham's mysterious new visitor away.
Bruce looked down at the USB stick in his hand, ready to head toward the research lab—
But Leslie blocked his way.
"Go to bed. I'll be sleeping in the guest room tonight. You are not sneaking out to tinker with tech!"
Even Batman himself had moments…
when resistance was truly futile.
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