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Morin walked for a long time without seeing Bruce make a move.
"He's really cautious..."
He thought about it, then deliberately turned into a dark, secluded alley. In Gotham, alleys like this were everywhere.
After the third one, Bruce finally acted.
With Morin's deliberate indulgence, Bruce closed the distance successfully.
"Don't move," Bruce said, pressing a metal pipe against the back of Morin's head, treating it like a gun.
Morin stopped cooperatively. "Who are you?"
"Your reaction time doesn't match what the newspapers say," Bruce replied, deliberately lowering his voice.
"Still better than a masked man in black," Morin said.
"How do you know?" Bruce was startled.
"There's glass in front of us," Morin said, pointing ahead.
Moonlight was bright tonight. With good eyesight, their reflections were clearly visible in the windowpane.
And Bruce's Batman suit wasn't finished yet.
He was only wearing a mask.
That alone cut his cool factor by more than half.
He looked... a little silly.
Bruce: "..."
How did this turn awkward so fast?
"You've been following me for a while," Morin continued calmly. "If you didn't act soon, I was going to make the first move."
"How about you put the pipe down and we talk properly?"
"You knew I was following you?" Bruce's pupils shrank.
Impossible.
He had trained with the League of Assassins.
He had mastered almost all of their stealth techniques.
He shouldn't have been discovered so easily.
"You've been tailing me for three blocks," Morin said. "Want me to name the streets?"
"Or-"
In an instant, the object under Bruce's hand vanished.
A sharp sense of danger surged.
Before he could react, something cold pressed against the back of his head.
Bruce froze.
He didn't dare move.
A flicker of disbelief crossed his eyes-something he hadn't felt in a long time.
At some point, Morin had disappeared from in front of him.
And appeared behind him.
Bruce had no idea how.
"Or I needed to do this," Morin said evenly, "so you'd recognize my ability and talk instead of running meaningless tests."
He pushed the wrench forward slightly, then pulled it back and walked past Bruce without looking back.
"If you have something to say, come to my rental house."
"..."
Bruce hesitated.
Then followed.
Not long after, Morin arrived at the rental house.
Soon after, Bruce knocked and walked in.
"Sit. I'll make tea," Morin said, gesturing toward the living room as he went to wash a cup.
Bruce had no choice but to sit on the sofa.
He sat straight, looking forward.
Like a scolded elementary school student.
The atmosphere was awkward.
At least for Bruce.
His original plan had been simple.
Hide his identity.
Gather information.
Find out where Morin came from, what backing he had, what abilities he possessed.
Then decide whether he could be a teammate to help change Gotham.
That plan collapsed immediately.
It wasn't that Morin refused to follow the script.
It was that Morin's abilities were completely beyond expectation.
Even now, Bruce couldn't understand what he'd just witnessed.
Morin was fast-too fast.
So fast Bruce hadn't had time to react.
And silent.
Not even a hint of displaced air.
Bruce hadn't followed him just to talk or recruit him.
He was also curious.
Very curious.
Coach.
I want to learn that too.
Morin returned quickly with tea.
"I'm surprised Gotham even has this kind of tea," he said. "Want some?"
"You're Asian," Bruce said. "It was in your file."
He didn't want to fall into Morin's rhythm.
This was his attempt to regain initiative.
"Good," Morin nodded, leaning back completely.
"What else did you find?"
The contrast between them was obvious.
Morin relaxed.
Bruce stayed rigid.
And Bruce didn't dare relax.
"The files are normal," Bruce said. "All documents are valid."
"But everyone who could verify them is dead."
"I've only seen files like that on people with very specific jobs."
"Are you a spy? FBI? Or somewhere else?"
"Is that all?" Morin smiled, taking a sip of tea.
"Also, don't you think it's strange to wear a mask the whole time?"
"...No," Bruce said. His body tensed slightly.
"If my identity is exposed before things are clear, it won't be good for either of us."
He was already starting to regret coming so rashly.
He should've gone back first.
Prepared more.
"Tsk. Caution is good," Morin said. "But I already know who you are."
"..."
Bruce stayed silent.
He didn't believe him.
He thought it was a bluff.
I didn't take off my mask.
I didn't reveal my accent.
This is our first meeting.
There's no way.
Then Morin spoke again.
"I didn't know you had a habit of wearing strange outfits," Morin said slowly.
"To the point of wearing them in broad daylight... no, in the dead of night."
"Mr. Bruce Wayne."
"Gotham's billionaire playboy."
"It's a pleasure to meet you."
Bruce: "!!!"
He froze.
One moment ago, he was sure Morin couldn't know.
The next, his name was spoken casually.
Like stating the weather.
"How did he know?!"
A storm erupted in Bruce's mind.
"...How did you know?" he asked after two seconds of silence.
"My equipment? Or something else?"
There was no point pretending.
If Morin could say his name so calmly, he already knew.
All Bruce wanted now was the method.
He hadn't even debuted yet.
His equipment wasn't finished.
He was still searching for teammates.
And one of them had already seen through him.
Ridiculous.
Batman was supposed to be a symbol.
Fear.
Mystery.
A presence criminals couldn't touch.
That only worked if no one knew who he was.
If his identity was exposed, the entire plan collapsed.
A mortal man couldn't inspire fear.
Only an untouchable symbol could.
"Your disguise is nearly flawless," Morin said, pouring more tea.
"As long as you keep the mask on, no one would recognize you."
"But for someone who knows what they're looking at..."
"It's your outfit that gave you away."
"The high-end infantry Nomex survival suit," Morin said, pointing.
"Double-layer bulletproof fibers. Reinforced joints."
"Three hundred thousand dollars per suit."
Bruce's eyes widened.
"Even modified, I can recognize it," Morin continued. "It's a bit bulky, but for people like us, that's not an issue."
"This model is exclusive to Wayne Enterprises' Applied Sciences division."
"It was discontinued due to cost."
"Some samples went to the military. Then to the FBI."
"So you're with the FBI?" Bruce caught the hint.
"No," Morin smiled.
"I'm with the IRS."
"A senior field agent."
"We audited the FBI."
"And brought back some souvenirs."
"This suit was one of them."
"...An IRS agent?" Bruce looked genuinely confused.
"What are you doing here?"
"Auditing taxes?"
"Don't you know?" Morin looked at him like he was stupid.
"Illegal income is taxable too."
"In a place like Gotham, do you think arms dealers and drug traffickers pay taxes?"
"They're evading taxes!"
Morin spoke with righteous indignation.
"In America, only two things are certain."
"Death."
"And taxes."
"As an IRS agent, I absolutely cannot allow tax evasion."
Bruce: "???"
It sounded absurd.
And yet.
Disturbingly.
It made sense.
So after all of that...
You're really just here to check their books?