In Gotham City, on a morning that dawned not particularly bright but still possessed a certain warmth, Shiller placed his coffee cup down, alerted by the distinct sound of his colleague Anna's high heels approaching. Soon after, a fuming, quintessential American sweetheart with blonde hair strode in and declared, "The utterly lazy devils at the new student registration desk have decided to take the day off. You will fill in for them today."
Shiller responded, "I'll head over there right now. And this cup of coffee is on you."
"In your wildest dreams!" Anna retorted, her voice booming. Shiller, a chuckle escaping him, exited the café, coffee in hand. He cast his gaze upward at the eternally overcast skies of Gotham City and commenced his fifth day in this peculiar place.
During his prior existence, Shiller pursued the profession of a psychologist. Following a calamitous plane crash, he found himself transplanted into this city, a place that, despite its rougher customs, held an undeniable charm. Fortunately, he landed neither as a hero nor a villain, but rather as an easy-going and stable university professor – a role that perfectly mirrored his old field, specifically a Professor of Psychology.
Just as Shiller was savoring the pleasant thought of another day of minimal effort, a notification pinged in his mind from the system: "Received a chat request from Peter Parker."
While making his way towards the registration desk, Shiller mentally replied, "What is it, Peter?"
"Hey! I'm starting my internship at Oscorp tomorrow! You have no idea how incredibly rare this opportunity is for me! Plus, Gwen... I mean, she's going too, and we'll be together. It's simply fantastic! We can chat about things like genome helix bodies, those unbelievably massive super machines..."
Shiller mused inwardly, thinking, *No girl would truly want to discuss such topics with you; snap out of it, Little Spider.*
Ever since Shiller’s arrival here, he had been bestowed with an "American Comics Chat System," and the very first individual he unlocked was none other than the incorrigible chatterbox Peter Parker, also known as Little Spider. Peter had been incessantly rambling for the past four and a half days about his adolescent tribulations; his infatuation with Gwen, his deep desire to pursue her, yet his crippling lack of courage.
While offering Peter words of encouragement, Shiller reached the registration desk. He settled into his seat, began organizing the necessary forms, and awaited the arrival of this year's incoming freshmen for their registration.
An oddity did strike Shiller. He had resided in Gotham for quite some days now and had yet to witness the Bat Signal illuminate the sky. Furthermore, there had been no villainous disruptions or troublesome incidents. Life had been remarkably tranquil, almost as if the populace were genuinely unsophisticated.
Soon enough, students began registering one after another, each burdened with a considerable stack of materials. Shiller's designated task was to meticulously record their names and corresponding dorm numbers.
"Next!" Shiller called out, not bothering to look up; a lengthy queue had already formed before him. A young male student took a seat, and Shiller inquired, "Name?"
"Bruce Wayne."
"Bruce... Male Dormitory Building 2, Room 306," Shiller scribbled, his pen hovering for a fleeting moment. He subtly raised his head, his eyes examining the student: striking blue eyes, dark black hair, and a notably handsome appearance. Shiller then inquired, "Wayne?"
"Indeed, I am Wayne."
Shiller reiterated the assigned dorm number: "Male Dormitory Building 2, Room 306. Did you not comprehend it clearly? Please take your form and depart promptly; there are individuals waiting behind you."
Now it was Bruce who appeared taken aback. He collected his form and posed a question: "In which department do you hold a professorship?"
"Psychology. Do not enroll in my class, kid," Shiller advised.
Bruce found him rather intriguing, while Shiller felt increasingly annoyed. It was indeed his misfortune to have time-traveled only to become a university professor precisely when Batman was on the cusp of commencing his college education! This, he realized, perfectly explained the conspicuous absence of the Bat Signal!
Beset by ill fortune, Shiller was acutely aware of the inherent dangers associated with the Batman narrative. Especially since, at this very moment, Bruce was merely an eighteen-year-old youth, and a rather detestable playboy at that!
Bruce remained silent. He retrieved his form, offered a polite thank you to Shiller, and departed. Having successfully managed the new student registration process, Shiller was preparing to return to his university quarters for a much-needed nap when he suddenly recalled leaving his keys behind in the office. As he ascended the office stairway, he encountered a tall, lanky professor descending the steps. Shiller offered a greeting: "Hello, Jonathan. Are you also here to retrieve something?"
"Yes, have you misplaced your keys in the office once more?"
"Ah, correct. I did. Anna hurried me out this morning, and I completely forgot. I'll just grab them quickly and be on my way. See you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow."
The instant Shiller passed Jonathan, an unnerving, chilly sensation coursed up his spine. Jonathan... Jonathan Crane!
The notorious supervillain, Scarecrow!
Shiller, with his back turned to Jonathan, remained unaware that his head had turned and his gaze was fixed upon him. It was only upon recently discovering that Batman was merely at the college level that a memory was triggered. Within his mind, an image of Scarecrow materialized—Gotham University's Professor of Psychology, Dr. Jonathan Crane, who held doctorates in both Psychology and Chemistry, and who was destined to sow chaos with his fear gas!
Taking a measured breath, Shiller ascended the stairs, his pace unwavering. He logically deduced that Jonathan had not yet become Scarecrow. Given Bruce's age of eighteen, he was still a student, yet to graduate and assume the mantle of Batman. Similarly, Jonathan was not yet the globally recognized psychologist he would become, possessing only a modicum of renown within the academic sphere of "Emotional Psychology." At present, Shiller's own reputation far surpassed his.
Currently, Shiller stood as a world-renowned authority in criminal and abnormal psychology, a distinguished psychological researcher, and Gotham's most celebrated professor of psychology.
Therefore, Jonathan's recent demeanor was, in fact, quite agreeable... but to what end? Shiller was not one to concoct chemical agents! He was purely an arts scholar, whereas Jonathan held a PhD in Chemistry!
It was undeniably true that mastery of the sciences granted one a fearless path wherever they ventured...
Shiller was acutely aware that the grand theater of Gotham City was on the precipice of its bloody debut, and he, a mere academic devoid of power, a fragile being who struggled to even shift chairs, a talent solely reliant on knowledge, stood no chance against these prominent supervillains. He was even more vulnerable to the run-of-the-mill thugs from the comic lore, any one of whom could easily end his life with a firearm!
His premonitions materialized with unsettling accuracy. The following morning, Shiller, typically found idling away his time in the university's psychology office, had just finished preparing his coffee when a distinct rapping echoed from his door.
"Professor Shiller, may I enter?"
Shiller took a fortifying breath. Were students genuinely seeking out this rather dismal psychology office? Did they not grasp that he was presently on paid leave?
Standing outside the door was none other than Bruce Wayne!
Clenching his jaw, Shiller conceded, "Please, come in. What matter requires discussion?"
"Is it not permissible to simply converse if nothing is amiss?" Wayne inquired, executing a casual shrug that perfectly embodied the persona of an unburdened playboy.
Shiller adjusted his spectacles, stating, "This setting is designated for students seeking psychological counsel. If there is no subject for discussion, you are at liberty to depart."
Shiller inwardly lamented that his words sounded as mundane as an airline's public address, yet Bruce, displaying undiminished curiosity, pressed on, "Very well, I have a query then. In your esteemed opinion, what constitutes the meaning of life?"
Shiller inhaled deeply and activated the American Comics Chat System within his mind. He recalled a previous instance where he had earned a random chat opportunity by offering guidance on Peter Parker's interpersonal concerns. Swiftly, he composed his thoughts mentally:
"A young man, orphaned and driven by a vow of vengeance against all criminals, conceals himself behind the facade of a playboy. Now, this very individual poses the question of life's meaning to me. How should I respond to dissuade him from further pestering me? I await guidance online; the situation is rather urgent."
Promptly, a response materialized: "As an educator, addressing your student's inquiry, I advocate for unwavering patience and the provision of psychological counseling to this unfortunate youth, approaching the matter from two distinct perspectives..."
Upon observing the sender's name in the message window, Shiller recognized him as Charles Xavier! Professor X himself!
It was no surprise that the founder and headmaster of the X-Mansion possessed such profound expertise.
However, Shiller noted that Charles's avatar was clickable. He initiated a mental click on Charles's avatar, whereupon a dialogue box emerged: "For your inaugural chat, you are permitted to randomly acquire one of the chat participant's abilities (at a low level). Would you like to proceed with this acquisition?"
Shiller, acting on instinct, selected "Yes."
"Low-Level Telepathy has been successfully loaded."
A fleeting disorientation washed over Shiller, followed by an influx of disembodied noise and a cascade of unfamiliar emotions flooding his consciousness, rendering him momentarily incapable of discerning reality. It took some time for Shiller to truly comprehend that he had indeed assimilated a portion of Professor X's formidable abilities.
Telepathic sensing was Charles's signature talent, amplified by a brainwave enhancer, allowing him the capability to influence the minds of entire populations. Yet, what Shiller had acquired was a significantly attenuated version. He could only faintly perceive the emotional states of others and fleeting mental impulses, lacking the capacity for direct mind-reading. Nevertheless, this was more than sufficient.
Shiller concentrated his focus on Bruce, detecting a pronounced state of inner turmoil. Indeed, the young man's outward nonchalance was merely a carefully constructed veneer.
Considering Batman's background, it's logical to assume he's just returned from overseas, and his enrollment in the university is merely a ruse to conceal his identity as Bruce. The true Batman would undoubtedly be weary of such mundane existence, with every fiber of his being yearning for 'vengeance' and 'vengeance against these criminals'.
From Bruce's perspective, the professor before him appeared to have suddenly fallen into profound contemplation. Shiller possessed rather distinctive grey eyes, and under their intense gaze, Bruce's keen intuition sounded an alarm—he felt as if he were being thoroughly dissected and understood.
Shiller then declared, "Perhaps you've been anticipating someone to furnish you with this answer, a conclusive response. If obtaining this answer will occupy you further and prevent you from bothering me again, then I am prepared to provide it."
"Oh? And what might that be?"
"Vengeance." Shiller locked eyes with Bruce and stated, "The purpose of life is vengeance," as Bruce’s expression darkened considerably.
Even as Bruce's demeanor grew as somber as the Gotham skies, Shiller calmly inquired, "Are you content now, Mr. Wayne?"