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Bruce didn't understand why Morin insisted on taking such a roundabout approach.
He didn't ask.
For him, any problem that money could solve wasn't a problem at all. Money grew faster than he could spend it.
"Sounds good," Bruce said, nodding.
"Excellent," Morin replied. "As a friendly reminder, your girlfriend-District Attorney Rachel Dawes-may be in some trouble soon."
"What?" Bruce froze, not even bothering to correct the word girlfriend.
"She wants to prosecute one of Falcone's men. He was sent to Arkham and conveniently 'saved' by Dr. Crane," Morin said calmly. "According to my intel, Falcone may be targeting her."
He added casually, "That's old information, but it's a reasonable deduction. For someone like Rachel Dawes-hard to bribe-there's really only one other solution."
"..."
Bruce stood up and headed for the door.
"One more thing," Morin said. "If you want to be with Miss Rachel Dawes, I might be able to give you some advice."
Bruce stopped.
"You have expertise in that too?" His tone was skeptical. "I'll rely on myself."
Morin didn't push it.
Honestly, he thought Rachel was the best match for Batman. Similar personalities. Similar stubbornness.
Sure, she'd had other boyfriends-but hadn't they already broken up?
In the original story, Bruce deliberately played the role of a playboy. Money. Women. Noise. All to hide who he really was.
It worked.
Too well.
Rachel believed it.
Their relationship deteriorated. Bruce carried that pain quietly.
Despite being surrounded by women, he loved Rachel the most.
Her death later would devastate him. Everything that followed grew from that moment.
But now, none of that had happened yet.
The Joker was probably still hiding somewhere. Bruce hadn't even truly become Batman.
Right now, he was still just a young man.
At least, that's how Morin saw him.
Reading Bruce was easy. Facial expressions. Tone. Reactions.
Leading the conversation took almost no effort.
"Don't worry," Morin said. "It's free advice. No harm in listening."
"Then there's no need to listen," Bruce replied immediately.
Morin: "???"
...
Morin didn't force it.
Maybe things would turn out differently this time. Maybe Bruce would succeed.
Though Morin thought the odds were low.
The operation itself was dangerous. That alone made honesty with Rachel impossible.
And if Bruce still used the playboy persona...
Then history would repeat itself.
"I'll deal with it when the time comes," Morin muttered.
He headed to the police station.
"What are you doing here?" Gordon asked, surprised.
It was Saturday.
Morin had started work yesterday. Today was already his day off.
Gordon, meanwhile, was at the station as usual-not because he was forced, but because he chose to be.
"I'm here to tell you something," Morin said. "We have three people now."
"Who?"
"Bruce Wayne."
"...Huh?"
Gordon stared at him.
"I'm serious," Morin said. "He won't be public. He'll act in a different way."
Morin leaned in and whispered.
"Did you know he has a cross-dressing fetish?"
Gordon: "!!!"
"Not only that, he wants to be a hero. Like Iron Man or Captain America," Morin continued seriously. "His parents were killed by thugs, so he wants to change Gotham."
"What does that have to do with cross-dressing?" Gordon asked blankly.
"Think about it," Morin said. "Heroes in comics all wear costumes."
He nodded to himself.
"Perfect match."
"I see!" Gordon said suddenly.
"But don't say it in front of him," Morin added. "This is confidential."
He winked.
"He might come to you later. All in black. Bat-themed."
"Do you get what I'm saying?"
"Even if he has strange fetishes, he'll be a huge help. Especially when you become commissioner."
"When did I say I'd be commissioner?" Gordon asked.
"When you are, everything becomes easier," Morin said casually. "Don't worry. We won't make you do anything illegal."
"We'll just push the thugs back where they belong so the police can function."
"But... you could do that yourself," Gordon tried.
"What, you want me to call my organization and tell them I'm staying here as commissioner?"
Morin's tone was calm.
Gordon had no answer.
Morin didn't mention that the real reason was laziness.
"I have another question," Gordon said. "Can he protect himself?"
"Being a billionaire isn't the same as being a hero."
"You don't need to worry," Morin said. "He has a superpower too."
"...Superpower?"
"Money," Morin said. "With enough of it, you can do what Tony Stark does."
He glanced at Gordon.
"And the 'too'-haven't you noticed mine yet?"
"...Are there many people like you?" Gordon asked quietly.
"Very few," Morin said, patting his shoulder.
"If there were even one more, the country would've found them already."
"They wouldn't be living freely."
...
Courthouse.
Rachel organized documents on her desk.
Yesterday's criminal. Sent to Arkham instead of prison.
"Treatment," she thought bitterly.
She picked up another file.
Hugh Haas.
The man Morin had demanded. The trial would start in two days.
"Another one..."
She sighed.
"What's the point?"
Crane would diagnose him again. Exemption. Release.
That was why she became District Attorney.
As a child, she hadn't understood.
After Bruce's parents were killed, she saw his pain-and made her decision.
Criminals shouldn't escape consequences.
Reality crushed that ideal quickly.
The police were corrupt.
Judges were bribed.
Scapegoats were endless.
Arkham was a loophole controlled by Dr. Crane.
Every path was blocked.
Even with her resolve, frustration crept in.
If there was one comfort-
Bruce was alive.
She smiled faintly.
They'd been close since childhood.
After his parents died, he vanished.
Seven years.
Declared dead.
But he came back.
That mattered.
A noise interrupted her thoughts.
She looked up.
Nothing.
She shook her head and returned to her work.
Duty was duty.
The noise grew louder.
Rachel frowned and stood.
Someone was standing in front of her.
"Old friend," Bruce said with a smile. "I haven't seen you since I got back."
...
Meanwhile, Morin left the station in high spirits.
Telling Gordon about Bruce-and embellishing it-had been fun.
He headed for Narrows Island.
Gotham's customs were... simple.
Arkham was full of talent.
He'd seen most of the city.
Not Arkham.
Yet.
At the gate, Morin showed his badge.
Soon, a man in glasses and a suit emerged. Gentle. Polite.
Dr. Crane.
Scarecrow.
"Officer Morin?"