Batman rarely had moments when he thought for too long.
Generally speaking, the situations he faced required immediate decisions. They were critical, extremely dangerous, and allowed no delay. Time had always been a luxury to him. There was nothing he could do about that. Most crises that urgently needed someone to save the day left no room for hesitation—and his intelligence was indeed enough to handle such situations.
But tonight was different. The strange thing he had encountered tonight was no super-crisis, nor did it involve any supervillain. It was simply strange.
But also a little heartwarming.
The ridiculous Santa Claus slowly stirred the porridge steaming in the pot, as though even this night had grown longer. It was as if one corner of the city was telling him, It's all right. There's no harm in slowing down. Tonight is just an ordinary night. This is only an ordinary street. There is no crime here for the moment, nor any conspiracy. You can stay here for a while.
But he had no intention of staying. Batman never stayed—Gotham had more than this one corner, and Batman always had things to do.
He glanced back at the crude shelter and the children lining up for porridge. Then he made a phone call, turned around, and vanished into the night.
"Boss, why'd you call everyone out so late? It's the middle of the night."
"Cut the crap. Something's strange tonight. I don't know what those brats are up to. They suddenly gathered in one place, put up a shelter, and started cooking porridge. We're going to take a look. If they're planning something, we'll teach them a lesson."
"Exactly! There might even be something in it for us." The Scarface thug sneered twice. "Even if there's nothing to gain, I'm still going