...

The Batmobile traveled through the night in Gotham City, the carriage completely silent.

Bruce drove intently, his eyes behind the mask revealing no emotion.

Damian sat in the passenger seat, his fingers occasionally touching the storage compartment at his waist, the small black bundle inside making him somewhat absent-minded.

Thor broke the silence in the back seat, his voice sounding casual, " Damian looks exactly like you when you were a kid, doesn't he?"

Bruce did not respond.

What was he like as a child? The child who used to snuggle in his parents' arms and laugh heartily over the smallest things is long gone, now dead in Crime Alley.

He turned the steering wheel slightly in his hands, and the Batmobile turned onto a quieter road.

"What you said about Martha," Bruce finally spoke, his voice hoarse, as if confirming something unrelated to him, "Is it true?"

Thor abandoned his relaxed demeanor, sat up straight, and his expression became more serious. "Still going through the procedures. Resurrecting someone from decades ago is still a bit tricky."

Go through the procedures?

As Bruce drove, he mentally dissected and analyzed those three words.

Does resurrecting a person require "going through a procedure"? What does that mean?

Is the end of death not Void, but a... institution?

An organized and well-regulated bureaucratic system?

The idea was so absurd it made him want to laugh, but Thor's tone didn't sound like he was joking.

Conversely, if it weren't someone from decades ago, but someone who had just died, would they be less "difficult to deal with"?

Is it possible to... revive at will?

Bruce's heart sank.

He thought of many people.

"You won't be coming here often in the future, will you?" he asked again, as if confirming a fact.

"Yes," Thor admitted readily, "But I believe you can handle it. Or do you want me to leave you a pager? So you can call me if you can't beat them?"

"I can handle it." Bruce replied almost immediately, without any hesitation.

He, Bruce Wayne, Gotham's Batman, doesn't need anyone's charity, especially not from an unidentified, mysterious figure who claims to be his father.

"Tch." Damian let out a soft chuckle, seemingly unimpressed by his father's stubborn attitude.

He finally couldn't resist and took the small black ball out of the storage compartment.

"Chirp?" The little thing wriggled in his palm.

"What's the point of this little thing?" Damian asked Thor in the back seat, holding it up. "Is it just for show?"

"You can understand it this way," Thor's voice chuckled again, "It's an extremely rare alien species that can directly copy the superpowers of others simply by seeing them. Or rather, it can copy any physical skill or equipment. Only, a weakened version, as weak as it can get."

Damian's eyes lit up.

Copying superpowers? Physical skills? Equipment?

His gaze unconsciously drifted towards his father, who was driving.

"So," Damian concluded, "This little guy is essentially a weaker version of his father?"

Thor glanced at Bruce's retreating figure and chuckled, "Your interpretation isn't wrong. It can mimic Superman's abilities, except this little guy's Heat Vision might not even be enough to heat a cup of milk."

Bruce's fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

A creature capable of replicating all abilities? Even a weakened version would be an extremely dangerous being.

If it falls into the hands of criminals...

"Oh, right," Thor added, as if remembering something, " Tony has suppressed this ability within it, otherwise it could reproduce Infinity."

"Who is Tony?" Bruce seized on this key phrase and immediately pressed for an answer.

He must gather as much information as possible while " Thomas " is still willing to communicate.

Every name, every detail, could be the key to unlocking the mystery.

"He's one of my top scientists, and he's the one who found this Tuotuo," Thor replied casually, as if talking about an ordinary employee. "Now, who knows, maybe he's maintaining cosmic peace in some universe?"

The scientists under his command?

Maintaining universal peace?

In just a few words, the amount of information was so great that Bruce's brain was working at lightning speed.

He instantly categorized this information in his mind: credible, questionable, requiring verification, and pure boasting...

This man, who calls himself " Thomas," seems to be backed by an organization of unimaginable size.

He has scientists under his command who can "maintain cosmic peace," he can travel freely through the universe, and he even understands the "procedure" of "resurrection."

Who exactly is he? And what is his purpose?

The Batmobile smoothly entered a hidden underground driveway, passed through layers of waterfalls, and finally came to a stop in that huge cavern— the Batcave.

The engine stalled.

The three people got off the bus one by one.

Thor was the last to open the car door. As soon as he stood up, he saw an old butler, dressed in his ever-present gray suit and with a straight posture, standing quietly in the distance, holding a silver tray.

On the tray was a cup of steaming black coffee and a cup of warm-colored red tea.

This man was none other than Alfred, the butler.

As if he had anticipated the arrival of guests, he wore a polite yet aloof smile, his gaze first falling on Bruce before turning to the unfamiliar guest.

Thor, however, seemed oblivious to Alfred's scrutinizing gaze. Without a second thought, he stepped forward and casually picked up the cup of black tea from the tray.

He took a sip and then let out a satisfied sigh.

"So many years have passed, but your skills haven't changed."

Thor looked at the elderly man with gray hair but still elegant, and a nostalgic smile appeared on his face.

"Long time no see, Alfred."