A Ruthless Cash Machine

Lynn had not actually come to take revenge on those cowards in the Court of Owls.

On a smaller scale, Lynn had no direct grudge against them. Apart from taking a few hits while fighting the Talons and ending up with some bruises, he had barely had any direct contact with them.

On a larger scale, Lynn simply was not some kind of savior. Any grand, righteous word would have been inappropriate when applied to him, and Lynn knew that perfectly well.

Batman knew it perfectly well, too.

So when he stood on the rooftop again, answering Gordon's summons, and heard Gordon's words, his concerns and his faint undercurrent of fear, Batman said little.

He merely considered it in silence, then spoke in his usual low, hard, gravelly voice. "He has his methods. We have ours.

I don't know who's right and who's wrong, but he knows that while I won't necessarily agree with him, I certainly won't stop him.

The same goes the other way around.

Lynn... understands me well enough. Better than I understand him. I have no evidence. It's only a feeling, but I believe it without a doubt.

So, Gordon, perhaps we should trust him. See what he wants to do. See whether he's right.

Time will prove who's right..."

Batman might have had his doubts, but he would never expose any weakness in front of others, even his best friend Gordon.

After hearing Batman's seemingly impartial words, which nevertheless sounded distinctly slanted toward one side, Gordon could only shrug helplessly. "But someone once said that time is the best teacher, and it also kills all its students.

Honestly, I don't know what he cares about. I can't make any sense of why he does these things, either.

What I mean is...

There has to be a reason."

Gordon had these doubts, and so did Batman.

Every vigilante, every street-level hero, every guardian did those things out of some powerful emotion, some sense of responsibility.

Some sought to uphold order and the law. Some sought to protect the kind and the weak. Some wanted to punish the wicked. Some loved their cities deeply...

But Lynn was different. None of those fierce, burning emotions could be seen in him at all.

As Gordon had witnessed the day before, he had killed the Court of Owls' group of six using methods that could only be called brutal.

Revenge? Obviously not such a ridiculous reason.

His purpose was direct and pure, yet made no sense whatsoever. There was nothing to go on.

Lynn did not love this city. That required no careful observation. Every pore, every look in his eyes constantly expressed his dissatisfaction with it.

Then did he have a pure, kind heart?

What a load of bullshit.

Or perhaps he simply wanted to experience the pleasure of taking someone else's life, deeply enamored with that unparalleled power?

That did not make sense, either. Gordon and Batman had both encountered psychopathic killers like that. They were obsessives, intoxicated by the act of killing itself rather than driven by a deliberate purpose.

Lynn was definitely not that sort of person. Gordon felt that Lynn's obsessions with singing and his height ran deeper than that.

Could it be...

"Is it possible that he's just... possessed by something? A ghost, a demon, something supernatural, anyway. You know what I mean."

Gordon gestured as he spoke. "I'm saying that the normal guy we usually see is really him, but there's another soul in his head giving orders, directing and forcing him to do those things. That's why he's so contradictory, unreasonable, and impossible to figure out."

"Impossible. No."

Batman categorically rejected Gordon's theory, which sounded like the only plausible one.

He could not be certain about other things, but Lynn being controlled by a demon or something like that?

Batman had not forgotten what kind of monster that seemingly harmless little black cat Lynn had tossed him actually was.

The cat had voluntarily blocked an attack for Batman that could have seriously injured or even killed him, then summoned a whole swarm of little demons that ran out of the shadows.

Those little creatures chewed up rocks and sucked blood. They were definitely things that belonged in Hell.

If even Lynn's pet could command demons, how could he himself possibly be controlled by such things?

Besides, who had ever seen a demon spend money on cat food and haggle with the shopkeeper...

Calling Lynn a demon was fair enough, but definitely not in that sense!

Batman and Gordon spent a long time discussing how to define Lynn's "nature," but ultimately failed to reach a conclusion they could both agree on.

Meanwhile, the subject of that conversation, Mr. Lynn, was at home making soup in a newly purchased pot.

"It doesn't say to add fennel here, does it?"

"Then how do you explain that salted fish you just threw in?"

Kitty lay sprawled over a cookbook bigger than the cat, laboriously helping Lynn improve his soup-making skills through a combination of studying the pictures and guessing at the words.

Earlier, Kitty had taken the initiative to add some ingredients for Lynn. Fortunately, Lynn had caught the cat in time, standing on two legs and struggling to tip pawfuls of cat food into the pot, and prevented a disaster.

Now Kitty was working off that debt.

Lynn held a large, long-handled wooden spoon, slowly stirring something that looked more like a ritual cauldron than a cooking pot.

"Is... is this okay? Can you actually drink this?"

Precisely because Kitty had helped cook this pot of soup, the cat knew its ingredients all too well.

"These are all top-quality ingredients. Every single one strengthens the kidneys! Even the water is Dionysus springwater, the kind you couldn't buy even if you wanted to.

One drink of this stuff could bring Arthas back to life!"

Taking out his custom-made gourds, Lynn carefully sorted the contents of the pot into different ones. He decided to drink this stuff as a recovery potion from now on.

"Let me have a sip, too~"

"Little kitties aren't allowed to say things like that. Wait until you're older."

"Meow—!"

If Lynn would not share, Kitty would steal it. Reasoning with a cat was obviously not particularly feasible.

After getting the desired drink of recovery potion, Kitty showed no unusual reaction.

"What lousy stuff. It's no different from chicken soup. Boring."

With a haughty flick of the tail, Kitty turned and ran upstairs, once again setting sights on Lynn's sofa and preparing to sharpen those claws.

Kitty had always been good at getting some exercise after a meal.

"Come back here."

Lynn grabbed Kitty by the scruff and pulled the cat back.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Kitty shrank back. "What? I don't know! I forgot!"

"Heh."

Lynn tugged the corner of his mouth into a humorless smile, took Kitty by the arm, and walked outside. Setting the cat down in front of him, he said, "Hurry up and get a demon out here. Any kind will do."

"I... I still can't control it at will... There aren't even any enemies here. Why do you want to summon them?"

"Ah~~! I get it."

Lynn grabbed Kitty's front paws and swung the cat through a full, one-armed circle! He let go, and Kitty successfully took flight.

On the ground, Lynn was already prepared, a gun in his left hand and a hammer in his right.

"If Deadshot can kill demons with bullets, there's no reason I can't.

Which means...

Kitty is practically the perfect cash machine!"

Lynn had no interest in killing people. He was only interested in cashing out and drawing prizes.

People would do. Demons, of course, would do as well.