This was sheer madness!
Although he said nothing, Oswald was utterly shocked.
The Court's highest ranks were actually a bunch of Bruces. Wasn't it supposed to be made up of wealthy businessmen and politicians? Weren't they supposed to be cultists tempted by "immortality"? Why was what he saw completely different from what he had heard?
How the fuck was he supposed to explain this?
"You seem to have a lot of questions."
Lincoln March saw right through Oswald.
"Thomas Elliot, our creator, had already thoroughly corrupted the Court of Owls two years ago, just as the Court corrupted Gotham."
"What the fuck was his goal? Why make all these clones of Will?"
"I think he must have wanted to escape his family's control."
Lincoln March, who had inherited all of Thomas's memories, gave a bitter smile.
"After taking his seat among the Round Table members, he used a series of schemes to kill off most of the Court's leadership, including his own parents.
"Having achieved his goal, Thomas sank into emptiness and confusion, until Bruce in his wheelchair came into view. As for us, we were merely tools he used to make fun of Bruce."
"That's seriously fucked up."
Little Penguin dared not imagine being paralyzed in a wheelchair, then surrounded by five or six able-bodied clones roaring with laughter.
But then he seized on the biggest hole in the story. "How do you explain the three families' blood pact and that mysterious mass of flesh? With so many Bruces, you shouldn't be short of blood to feed it. Why are you still so fixated on the men of the Wayne Family?"
"Because Thomas doesn't want to feed Him at all, nor does he want to waste his energy on some stupid immortality plan. But his isn't the only faction