The forced calm brought on by massive doses of painkillers gradually slowed Bruce's breathing. Setting aside the euphoric haze that blurred his senses, countless fragmented scenes began replaying in his mind.
On countless nights, he had dreamed of the happy family life he should have had: tall, steady Thomas; gentle, beautiful Martha. They had stayed by his side, spending one peaceful, happy day after another together.
But no matter what, the Thomas in those dreams could not overlap with the Thomas he had encountered today. They were far too different.
Yet what conflicted Bruce was that this Batman Thomas's movements and behavioral logic matched his memories of his father exactly. He did not think plastic surgery or cloning could achieve that effect.
More fragments, more details. His exceptional brain worked beyond its limits, comprehensively analyzing every detail from those few brief minutes.
The mirror-like fragments shattered in an instant. Bruce opened his eyes, feeling somewhat dazed.
He finally understood where that sense of contradiction came from. This Thomas felt unfamiliar to him, but at the same time, strangely familiar.
That familiarity did not come from Thomas's face or build. In fact, this Batman Thomas was far older than the one Bruce remembered, and his physique was different as well.
The original Thomas had been a businessman. Though he worked out to maintain a dignified image, he obviously could not have possessed this Batman Thomas's powerful, sleek musculature, nor his dark aura.
Such enormous differences should have made him feel like a stranger. Yet for some reason, Bruce felt that this Batman's expressions and words were familiar.
After thinking for a while, Bruce rose from the sofa. A wave of searing pain struck him again. He clutched his chest and stood there catching his breath for a while before calling to