Bruce ignored their shock, as if the miraculous resurrection he had just experienced was a trivial matter to him. He walked straight to the giant Bat Computer in the center of the cave, his strong upper body bare. As he passed, a brand new suit of armor, glowing with an eerie blue light and filled with sharp angles and metallic texture, rose from the ground as if alive. Piece by piece, the armor automatically clicked onto his body, emitting a series of crisp, pleasant mechanical sounds.
By the time he reached the computer, the V8.03 Knight Bat suit was perfectly donned. A ferocious faceplate covered his face, leaving only a pair of electronic goggles that shimmered with cold blue light.
"Hiss—"
The massive screen lit up, displaying a real-time map of Gotham City. The entire map was almost completely covered in dazzling blood-red, and icons representing Bane's followers and Arkham escapees flickered wildly like a virus in every corner of the city. Fire, explosions, gunshots... various data streams representing chaos rapidly refreshed in one corner of the screen.
If the original Bruce had seen this scene, his heart would have probably been filled with anger and self-reproach.
But at this moment, this new Bruce simply watched silently. In his "Tactical Mastermind" brain, this chaotic scene was instantly broken down into countless calculable data points: enemy distribution, firepower configuration, supply routes, psychological profiles of leaders, public panic index... Everything transformed into an incredibly clear game of chess.
"Chaos, but not disorder. Bane is a brainy brute; his control method is a typical military occupation, with clear nodes and a defined chain of command... As long as a few key nodes are severed, the entire system will instantly collapse."
He sat down, his hands moving like phantoms across the optical keyboard.
"Alfred, access the highest authority of the Wayne Group'Sky Eye' satellite system. Authorization code: Martha-0426. Filter all civilian signals, and import all heat source signals, communication signals, and traffic data streams within Gotham City to the main screen, divided by area."
His voice, transmitted through the voice changer in his faceplate, became deep, hoarse, and metallic, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, like a supercomputer issuing commands.
"Yes, Master Bruce." Alfred did not hesitate, immediately beginning to operate on another terminal. He could feel that Master Bruce's instructions were clearer, more efficient, and… more unquestionable than ever before.
Tim, who was standing by, finally recovered from his immense shock. He looked at the black figure sitting in front of the computer, as if integrated with the entire Batcave, and the unease in his heart was replaced by a familiar surge of combat fervor. He clenched his fists, his eyes once again firm.
"Bruce, I'm ready!" He strode forward, his voice loud and full of determination, "Bane's command center is on top of Wayne Tower, his adjutant Firefly controls Gotham Bridge, Scarecrow is spreading fear gas… I know their deployment! Robin will fight with you!"
However, the only response he received was the incessant tapping of the keyboard.
Bruce didn't even turn his head, as if Tim was just an irrelevant echo in the cave. After processing the last data stream at hand, he coldly issued a command:
"Alfred, tomorrow, handle Tim's enrollment procedures for Gotham Elite Private Academy. Full scholarship, the best single dormitory, and for his major… let's choose finance and management."
"Yes, Master."
"Wait… what?!" Tim was struck by lightning. He rushed to Bruce's side, hands braced on the control panel, looking down at the face covered by the faceplate in disbelief, his voice rising with agitation, "Bruce! Did you hear me? I said I want to fight alongside you! Gotham is a battlefield now! And you want me… you want me to go to school?!"
He felt an unprecedented humiliation. In his opinion, this was even more hurtful than directly telling him he was "too weak."
This time, Bruce finally stopped his movements.
He slowly rotated his chair, his tall body exuding a suffocating sense of oppression as he directly faced Tim. His eerie blue electronic goggles, like two cold stars from deep space, locked onto Tim's eyes.
"Precisely because it is war, you cannot participate."
Bruce's voice was not loud, but it struck Tim's heart like a heavy hammer.
"I once made a mistake," he said slowly, the memories inherited from Batman reminding him of Red Hood—Jason Todd—who died by Joker's crowbar, "I allowed a child who should have been running in the sunlight to walk onto this dark, endless battlefield. I will not make the same mistake a second time."
He stood up, looking down at Tim, who was a head shorter than him. Although his tone was calm, every word carried an undeniable authority. This was the aura Luther had developed in his previous life as a project manager, making decisive calls in meetings, and now, under the enhancement of the "Fear Aura," it became like a decree.
"Tim, you are a genius. Your talent should not be wasted on beating up street lunatics and criminals with me. You should go and acquire knowledge, master economics, understand politics, and become someone who can change the future of this city in the sunlight, with wisdom and capital. Not another ghost hiding in the shadows."
"The darkness of Gotham is enough for me to bear alone."
Tim opened his mouth, feeling as if his throat was clutched by an invisible hand. He wanted to retort, to say "I am your partner," to say "This is my responsibility," to say "I don't care about the danger."
But looking at those cold, unyielding electronic eyes, all his words were stuck in his throat, appearing so pale and powerless. What he saw was a familiar stranger, a dictatorial tyrant he completely failed to understand. The invisible pressure made it difficult for him to even breathe.
Ultimately, all his courage and determination were crushed into dust before this absolute will. He lowered his head dejectedly, his hands sliding weakly from the control panel.
Bruce no longer looked at him, turning back to the computer screen. His heart was utterly unfazed by this decision. In his view as a "project manager," having a "core asset" with top-tier intelligence and immense potential perform "front-line execution" work was a tremendous waste of resources. Tim's future should be as the CEO of Wayne Group, the Mayor of Gotham City, not a consumable.
He zoomed in on the map of Gotham, and red crosses marked the avatars of key individuals.
"Alfred," he said in a low voice, "give me a list. The contact information for the most expensive and most reliable 'cleaners' in the World. I need to do some 'project outsourcing.' "
"Also, help me prepare the 'Batplane.' I need to go and meet someone personally."