Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Main Universe Batman muttered to himself as he entered the Batcave, then suddenly fell silent. He had abruptly shut his mouth, realizing that this muttering to himself was abnormal too.
The moment he walked in, he saw Schiller sitting with one leg crossed over the other, eating potato chips. Then it struck him—Schiller was a psychologist. Had he noticed something was wrong long ago?
Seeing Batman enter, Schiller set down his snack and sat up a little straighter, looking somewhat more like a psychologist. "You felt it?"
Batman frowned as he sat opposite him. "You noticed it already? Why didn't you say anything?"
"It wouldn't have helped. Did you have a solution?"
Batman slowly shook his head. Tim, who entered afterward, had no idea what the two of them were talking around, but he did not ask. He simply sat quietly to one side.
Batman pondered in silence. In truth, he had noticed some abnormalities earlier. The reason he had not fully realized it was because, in the real world, he was unlucky too.
There were two reasons Batman made so many contingency plans. One was his own mental illness. The other, which could not be ignored, was that he truly had terrible luck—every plan always ran into unforeseen circumstances.
Looking over all of Main Universe Batman's experiences, almost none of the plans he had made had proceeded smoothly according to his arrangements. Something always went wrong.
So in this universe, when his plans were disrupted, interrupted, or thrown off by accidents and forced onto side paths, he had not found it strange. At most, he had thought he had been especially unlucky lately.
But even so, by this point, the sheer number of accidents had exceeded his imagination. In fact, they had completely departed