Chapter 41: Prison Diary 5

I calmed down.

The strange, neurotic laughter slowly left my body, my lungs freed, and I coughed a few times.

The dark shadow stood before me, the monster within silent.

I took a few breaths and lay down, my back to him.

It was hard to explain my current mood. I didn't want to face the truth he'd told me, nor did I want to face every move of this man who made it so difficult for me to suppress my anger.

After all, he always had his reasons.

"Visiting hours are over," I said. "Batman, it's time to go out on patrol. Remember to bring your Robin."

My words clearly conveyed my refusal to communicate.

"Click."

The sound of a metal buckle being unfastened.

"Coincidentally, he's off tonight."

Bruce calmly removed his helmet, walked over to the other side of the bed, and sat down.

I was forced to face him, to see the face of the man known as "Gotham's Darling. "

...

and I suddenly realized I preferred him with the cowl back on.

"Didn't you say you'd have something else to do?"

I said sharply, my annoyance evident.

"The Justice League meeting," he explained. "I can take a leave of absence or tell them to postpone it."

I didn't know what to say to his "willfulness." So I just rolled over, facing him with the back of my head.

A sigh echoed from behind my ear.

"Jack," Bruce asked, feeling his touch on the back of my neck as if to offer a soothing gesture. "What were you laughing at?"

I

repeated his question in my mind.

Honestly, I didn't know how to respond, so I finally said dryly,

"Nothing."

I heard a rustling sound behind me. I tilted my head slightly to see him leaning over to pick up a pile of shredded paper from under the bed.

"For the first few days, you were just smashing things and banging on doors," he began. "I thought it was your way of letting out your anger."

Bruce spread out the crumpled papers, scratched by nails, and shook them, sending a flurry of confetti falling.

"But then, you started hurting yourself. You started tearing up books and clothes." He paused, then stood up and opened his closet. The clothes that had once been neatly arranged were gone, leaving only tattered strips of fabric hanging on hangers.

He continued,

"A strong desire for destruction. I suspect you have a tendency towards violence."

I rolled my eyes at him and scoffed,

"When you pounded someone's face into the floor with your fist, did you ever consider your own violent tendencies?"

He was rarely able to speak.

After a moment, he gathered his words and spoke again,

"That's different, Jack. I think the changes in you might not be simply due to your emotions. Perhaps there's also... the drug."

"You're losing control," Bruce said. "Maybe it's withdrawal symptoms from stopping the medication."

I scoffed at his suggestion. I didn't feel any signs of losing control—everything felt normal to me.

"No, I'm normal," I retorted. "Or am I making you uncomfortable? What's wrong, Bat? Is it the way I'm spending my time that's making you uncomfortable?"

I could feel his gaze lingering on me, as if he were examining a criminal.

I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow.

I heard his voice.

"Perhaps this will take some time to observe."

The words pierced my heart like a thorn.

"Really?" I asked. "Then how long will you keep me under observation? A week? A month? How long are you planning to keep me locked up?"

He fell silent.

After about ten seconds—or maybe a minute—he finally answered.

"I can't promise you that, Jack."

Ridiculous, I thought.

"Your opponents will thank me—as the biggest contributor to Batman's attention, I'll remember to ask for their wages next time."

He didn't react to my sarcasm.

"You haven't told me the characteristics of the doctor you met. What details did you remember about him?"

Oh, so that was why he stayed.

So I replied:

"White, young, dark hair, glasses, that's all."

Another moment of silence.

He stood up, and the breeze from his cape brushed my cheek.

"I'll come back tomorrow,"

he said.

—————————————————

At two in the morning, Jason Todd, donning his Robin uniform, landed near Crime Alley.

This was where he'd been born, and patrolling the area at night had become second nature—and, of course, it was also his jurisdiction.

He scanned his surroundings, watching for any sudden incidents; it wasn't usually a quiet area.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a grayish-black figure flashing by the alleyway.

He glanced up—

it was Orphan.

She moved swiftly, skillfully raising her hand to fire her grappling gun. She leaped into the air, leaping from wall to wall, about to dive into another alley—

"Hey!" Jason called out. "Orphan!"

Orphan paused and turned to look at him.

"Robin," she said calmly.

Jason leaped over the wall and landed across from her.

"Don't you usually patrol the harbor?" Jason's voice was filled with surprise, and he stood with his arms folded. "This is usually my area."

Orphan tilted her head and looked at him.

"I'm not here to compete with you for territory," she said.

"You misunderstood me," Jason chuckled. "There's no such thing. Vigilantes don't have to abide by street rules. I just wanted to say—there's no need to waste time here. Just a suggestion."

The orphan lowered her head, as if she was lost in thought. After a moment, she replied,

"This isn't my patrol area. I don't come here often. Today I'm just looking for someone."

Jason blinked, a little surprised.

"Looking for someone?" he asked. "Who? Do you need help?"

The person in front of her hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the pros and cons in her mind. After a moment, she nodded and said,

"I'm looking for my friend, his name is Jack Napier."