"I possess knowledge and skills from across the globe, encompassing hundreds of fighting techniques, detective work, lock-picking, counter-surveillance..."
"Except for Gotham, you haven't truly grasped Gotham yet," Shiller stated.
Bruce remained quiet. Shiller had already discerned that Bruce was not yet the formidable dark hero, Batman, of later years. While the thoughts of retribution and justice had always occupied his mind, and a darker facet of his being likely existed, he fundamentally misunderstood Gotham—this brutal cesspool of human nature.
Bruce intended to leverage every available resource, including Professor Shiller.
Batman stands as a near-flawless hero, sagacious and meticulous, a mortal god. However, he must first don the iconic bat suit, transforming into a Dark Knight who instills fear in the night, taking Gotham and its pervasive sins under his dominion, prepared to confront and battle the inherent vileness of humanity. But in this current phase? Bruce is not yet Batman; he has vulnerabilities.
Shiller suddenly felt a sense of relief. Had he been confronting the genuine Dark Knight lurking within Gotham's shadows, perhaps his strategies would prove ineffectual. After all, Batman is no Superman; he is not a conventional hero but an outright outlaw.
Following Bruce's departure, Shiller stood by the window for an extended period. The advent of Batman might be imminent; Bruce could no longer afford to wait.
The following day, Shiller resumed his lectures as usual, commencing with the introductory class for new students. Regrettably, his efforts to dissuade Bruce from pursuing psychology had proven futile. The soon-to-be Batman was compelled to intrude upon Shiller's tranquil existence, a potent reminder of the impending chaos.
Curiously, Shiller observed that Bruce was limping. His right foot appeared to have sustained an injury, yet he resolutely attended the class. As he lectured, Shiller pondered Bruce's recent activities.
With immense wealth and a prominent standing in Gotham City, originating from the esteemed Wayne family, could he have possibly been assaulted by common thugs?
After the class concluded, Shiller sidestepped Bruce's transparent overture to "discuss matters." He swiftly gathered his books and teaching materials before departing amidst the stream of students. His nocturnal activities necessitated another excursion.
If Gotham City represents hell, then Gotham City after dark is a spectacle that would even terrify Satan himself. This cesspool of crime relentlessly churns with waves of iniquity. Shiller ventured out from the university's sanctuary, truly immersing himself in Gotham City.
His objective was to track down Jonathan Crane, also known as Scarecrow.
Jonathan Crane exhibited aberrant behavior, initiating murder plots by the age of eighteen. Consequently, even before adopting the Scarecrow persona, he had already commenced his experiments with fear gas.
Shiller's intention was not driven by a noble sense of justice; rather, he sought to procure some of the fear gas for his own self-preservation.
Within this perilous metropolis, a clandestine laboratory operated by a chemist presented a seemingly secure environment for illicit acquisition. Jonathan and Shiller shared a commonality: neither were burly gangsters, nor did they possess skills in combat or firearms. Their reliance rested solely on their intellect.
Gotham's night was once again drenched in rain, the darkness as profound as ink, and the downpour carried a heavy, kerosene-like scent. Regardless of the ambient warmth, the biting September rain permeated everything, chilling the bone. Donning a trench coat and wielding a black umbrella, Shiller traversed a narrow street. He was steadily closing in on the location where Jonathan was concealing the noxious gas—an abandoned church basement within a derelict block. Should Jonathan not be present, Shiller planned to infiltrate the premises and abscond with the fear gas.
Abruptly, Shiller's heart began to race. A premonition flashed before his eyes—an image of himself being struck by an unsighted projectile. He spun around instantaneously and, with a resounding "bang," unfurled his umbrella.
Two concealed projectiles struck the umbrella but failed to penetrate, clattering harmlessly to the ground. His precognitive abilities had, in essence, saved Shiller's life.
He slowly lowered the umbrella, his expression devoid of the placid demeanor he exhibited during the day. He had narrowly escaped death.
Anyone who had just experienced a brush with mortality would undoubtedly find it challenging to maintain a cheerful countenance. At the far end of the narrow alley, Bruce, clad in his bat-themed attire, witnessed his precisely aimed, high-velocity darts being thwarted by the mysterious man in an instant. The individual's reaction was so swift; it was as if he had foreseen the attack.
As the rain-slicked black umbrella was lowered, the revealed face was strikingly familiar to Bruce—it was his university professor, Shiller.
Indeed, it was him, yet paradoxically, he seemed transformed. Shiller presented a stark contrast to his daytime persona. At this moment, Shiller bore a greater resemblance to the individual described by Bruce in his research, a fervent disciple of criminal psychology.
Taking a deep breath, Shiller articulated, "You must be aware of the consequences had I failed to intercept those projectiles."
"The darts would have halted thirty centimeters from your person," Batman responded.
Bruce's voice was entirely distinct from his daytime vocalizations; Shiller recognized the use of a voice modulator.
At this moment, Batman's effectiveness is far from peak. His bat-suit isn't fully developed, lacking a cape and utility belt, and his Bat-Darts appear somewhat ineffective. It's evident that a novice Batman must have encountered numerous obstacles. After all, initiating his crusade in Gotham is akin to a beginner tackling Hell Difficulty.
Shiller remarked, "I must caution you, Mr. Batman, unlike the affluent districts you frequent, the rooftops in the Morson District are devoid of guardrails. Should you stumble again, internal organ rupture is a distinct possibility."
The silhouette opposite remained silent. He inquired, "How did you ascertain that?"
"You are still rather green, hero. The medicinal blend you employed carries a faint aroma, indicative of a high-end chemical formulation, not something the impoverished denizens of the slums could procure. Furthermore..." Shiller's gaze drifted to the only portion of Bruce's face visible – his chin. He continued, "No one in this vicinity would possess such a precisely and symmetrically shaven beard."
"Who in the blazes are you?" Batman demanded.
Shiller unfurled his umbrella once more and stated, "Return home, young master. Not every query you pose elicits a response; I am hardly a novice mentor."
With that, he departed into the downpour. Batman lingered in the alley for an extended period. He limped out, navigated to a different thoroughfare, and observed a beggar, shivering violently against the biting rain.
He produced a wad of cash and offered it to the beggar. Shortly thereafter, the rhythmic sound of leather-soled shoes splashing in the rain echoed behind him, followed by a sentence that sent a shiver down his spine: "This is precisely why I maintain you do not comprehend Gotham, Bruce."
Batman spun around to find Shiller positioned at the intersection. Shiller approached, extended the umbrella towards the beggar. The beggar accepted it, opening it to provide shelter from the chilling rain, then tremblingly returned the stack of bills to Batman.
"Why?" Batman questioned, accepting the cash back.
"Because this is the domain of the Gutter Gang. Should they discover she possesses this sum, her lifeless body would be discovered in the gutters by the following day."
"Substantial funds?" Batman's tone carried a hint of disbelief. "Thirty-seven dollars?"
"Indeed," Shiller acknowledged, his gaze fixed on the street's terminus. "This is Gotham..."
"Welcome to Gotham."