Batman's equipment had one greatest advantage: its exceptional quality. The cloak was no exception. If it had been ordinary fabric, then after being pierced by the awning and bearing the weight of an adult man below it, it should have torn straight into strips, allowing Batman to come down.
Unfortunately, Batman's cloak was simply too well-made. The awning's support frame could not possibly pierce that fabric, yet it had caught the cloth—and Batman beneath it—at a peculiar angle.
Batman naturally had ways to get down, but every tactic that came to mind involved a rather undignified posture for escaping and landing. And standing before him was Schiller, wearing an expression of pure amusement.
Batman, hanging in place, sighed. The next second, he flexed his muscles and dropped hard. Using the rebound, he flipped over the support frame and jumped to the ground.
The next second, his foot sank into the freshly plowed earth. Half his boot plunged into the mud, while the other half caught on plant roots that had been turned up.
Batman was practically beginning to suspect that Aisha had tattled on him to Schiller again, prompting the professor to stay awake in the middle of the night, set all these traps, and wait here for him.
After much difficulty, he picked his way out of the chaotic garden, one foot high and one foot low. Just as Batman was about to enter, he saw Schiller approaching with a water gun in hand. A bad feeling rose within him. The next second, Schiller aimed the water gun at him.
With a whoosh, a Batarang sliced through the air and struck the water gun's metal nozzle, narrowly preventing Batman from being sprayed.
Schiller did not grip the water gun tightly. Instead, he let go with the motion. The stream