The blood on his forehead dripped into his eyes, blurring Batman's vision. Through the sea of crimson, he saw One Hand reach out before him and pick up the halo.
Then a pair of leather shoes entered his view. The person before him slowly crouched down, gripped the halo, and smashed it hard against the ground. The halo sank into the road surface, half of it disappearing into the pavement.
Batman used every ounce of strength to roll sideways and climb to his feet. He stayed half-kneeling as he caught his breath. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Schiller's face. The professor across from him adjusted his glasses and said:
"Drunkenness, drunk driving, staying out all night, speeding, roaring through the streets, disturbing people in the middle of the night... Batman, if you really have so much free time lately, shouldn't you consider handing in the assignments you still owe?"
Batman coughed twice. There were streaks of blood in his saliva, but he felt no pain in his lungs. He suspected he had cut his mouth in the earlier impact. Taking a deep breath, he stood and staggered toward the Batmobile.
Schiller did not stop him. He merely watched as Batman struggled to flip the overturned Batmobile back onto its wheels, then climbed back into the driver's seat.
Batman narrowed his eyes and moved to press the accelerator. The next instant, a halo embedded itself in the windshield, less than ten centimeters from his nose.
In an instant, more than half of Batman's drunkenness vanished.
"Professor..." Batman's voice was extremely low. His lips did not even move as he spoke. The word seemed to be squeezed directly from his lungs, carrying a resonance that made even the rain tremble.
"Where do you intend to drive?" Schiller asked, standing