Bale-Batman spent the entire night reading the emails Schiller had sent him.
The emails themselves were not long, nor did they contain any incomprehensible walls of text. But they came with several blueprints and mind maps, every part of which contained an enormous amount of information. Bale-Batman had ended up creating a document of his own and writing a great deal.
Dawn had just broken. In this perpetually gloomy city, sunlight could only be seen at sunrise and sunset. The fourth cup of coffee by the desk had gone lukewarm. The handsome youth finally raised his head, stretched, and yawned.
Ring-ring-ring. The phone tossed to one side began to ring. Bale-Batman picked it up and said sleepily, "Hello, Bruce Wayne speaking."
"Bruce, are you free right now?" Rachel, Bale-Batman's good friend, spoke from the other end. Her voice carried obvious exhaustion. There seemed to be someone else in the background, but he was too unclear to make out.
"I just finished up. If you need something, come to my office. You know the password."
Less than twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Bale-Batman set aside the proposal he had just organized and went to open it. Rachel's tired face appeared outside.
More surprisingly, Harvey was standing behind her. Bale-Batman clearly had not expected Harvey to come. He smiled and hugged him. "How does our busy lawyer have time to come by at this hour?"
"I called him here." Rachel's voice was somewhat hoarse. "The reports from the victims' families in the Central Street bank robbery have piled up all over my desk."
"Victims? I heard that aside from two tellers, weren't all the dead robbers? It sounded like they turned on each other..." Bale-Batman closed the door, puzzled.
"That's exactly the problem." Rachel sighed deeply. "Human