SUP Chapter 88: Batman's Night Raid

The night had grown thick.

Ian's pen tip was still dancing frantically across the paper. He worked diligently, drawing the origin comic of the Sentry. The awakened Writer occupation made the young man feel his artistic skills had improved by several notches.

"As expected of me, and my cheat system." Ian deeply understood the art of winning, knowing all credit should go to himself. Due to awakening a new occupation, he felt his thinking was exceptionally clear.

The unexpected pleasant surprise of the [Writer] ordinary occupation allowed Ian to recall story threads more clearly, and when he picked up his pen, it was as if countless inspirations would surge forth.

However, Ian didn't dare take liberties with this comic either. When drawing "The Boys," he had somewhat lost control of himself, resulting in many detailed additions he considered far superior to the original work.

"Sometimes being too talented is also a troubling thing. This artwork, these panel layouts, Marvel would kneel upon seeing them and cry out that everything is filled with the grace I've bestowed."

Ian licked the corner of his mouth, casually wiping away some ink paint that had splattered on his face.

The soiled paper was naturally tossed into the trash can.

"I..."

The box was opened and closed again. The demon head didn't have time to say anything before already experiencing the taste of tissue paper, fortunately containing only the flavor of paint and not something else.

Ian's hand speed was comparable to a human printing machine.

Living printing technique.

Page after page of comics piled up like magic tricks.

Just as he felt he was hitting his stride.

"Ring ring ring~"

The phone rang.

That gift from the Gotham weirdo.

"Good evening, Mr. Batman." Ian smoothly answered. Since there was no caller ID, without waiting for the other party to speak, he politely greeted the Gotham weirdo.

"What are you doing right now?"

Batman's inquiry carried some wariness, as if facing a great enemy.

"Macroscopically speaking, I'm drawing comics, and microscopically speaking, I'm also suspected of providing voyeuristic material for copper-smelting weirdos." Ian maintained his good upbringing with a cheerful voice.

His hand continued drawing, and he ultimately couldn't resist adding two upright hair tufts to the Sentry. This damn hand seemed to have too much of its own ideas! Ian frantically shifted blame in his heart. Honestly, not adding two lumps of chest weight to the male Sentry was already his respectful enough treatment of Marvel.

If this got out, he'd probably be cyberbullied to death by certain groups popular in Europe and America.

"Huff huff huff~"

Batman began heavy breathing on the other end of the phone again.

Ian guessed this old master probably took too many drugs when he was young.

"I presume to ask, Mr. Batman, could you share your Bat-camera's network hotspot for me to mooch off? You know, my dad is reluctant to open high-speed internet service."

"The home internet is too slow. The hundreds of viruses living in my computer are almost dying from my neglect." Ian's heartfelt request didn't receive Batman's generous response.

"Your house can't have cameras installed."

Batman only replied through gritted teeth. He might not have been lying. At this moment, he wasn't emotionally provoked by Ian, but rather thinking about the windfall Clark had once made selling second-hand cameras at his suggestion.

Setting aside that the mortgage materials for this house were now under his name at the bank, just talking about the down payment, at least one room's purchase funds in this house came from his contribution.

That damn Kansas boy had excessive habits of frugality and resource recycling.

"Really no cameras? I don't believe it... You're definitely spying on me. My sixth sense is very strong." Ian looked around for possible hiding places for cameras.

"Turn around! Outside the window!"

Batman's voice came through the phone receiver again.

His mood for the latter half of tonight seemed particularly bad.

"Holy cow!"

Ian turned his head.

His whole body shivered.

No helping it, who told him he saw a bat spirit hanging upside down from the eaves with eyes shining brightly in the night? Who would have thought the most high-end master would actually be using the most low-end voyeuristic method!

"This slightly exceeds my wisdom's comprehension..." Ian hurriedly got up to draw the curtains, thoughtfully helping to lower the eyelids over Batman's eyeballs that were staring at him.

"It's quite creepy outside."

Ian maintained the phone call and walked back.

"??????"

The Batman outside the window was completely confused. In his lifetime, he had seen much and encountered all kinds of people and situations, but this was definitely the first time he'd met this breed of ostrich.

"Kid, did you stop taking your medication?"

Having been in contact with Ian's psychologist, Batman had some understanding of Ian's situation, though strangely, he didn't seem to want to bring up Hannibal.

"Click~"

Accompanied by the sound of prying the window, Batman's movement flipping into the room was very elegant, except it would have been perfect if he hadn't stepped on his own cape when landing.

"I haven't stopped taking medication, but I've run out of pills. Since I no longer have anxiety disorder, Dr. Hannibal probably won't prescribe me medication anymore, so now I desperately hope some kind soul can sponsor me two or three tons." Ian hadn't yet experienced his body's wonders and really longed to level up and learn to fly.

At the same time, he also subtly mentioned Hannibal, but Batman seemed to have no reaction whatsoever, not even planning to wave his hand generously and sponsor him a pharmaceutical factory.

This master just stared at Ian as if thinking.

"Is there something you need from me?"

Since he couldn't refuse Batman, Ian could only stop, turn around, and tentatively ask. He was afraid Batman had come to demand compensation for reputational damage.

Master Wayne might not care about those peanuts.

But the Batman he had guest-starred as would definitely enjoy seeing him penniless.

"I won't pursue your previous behavior, so stop frantically testing me." Batman was a straightforward person. He removed his mask disguise and became billionaire Bruce Wayne.

Ian didn't know whether he should pretend to be surprised.

His expression changed several times within one second, finally returning to normal, as if startled momentarily to show his attitude. This wave once again left the human-form Bruce speechless.

"..."

He sighed helplessly.

"I need your manuscript." Master Wayne got straight to the point, stating his purpose for night-raiding the single man's room. He certainly hadn't come all this way from Gotham just to get aggravated.

"Which one?"

Ian tilted his head. This wasn't really feigning ignorance since he treated all his works with equal devotion, showing no favoritism whatsoever, so he didn't know which masterpiece Batman had become obsessed with.

"The most insane one."

Bruce's voice sounded like he'd swallowed broken glass.

"I only write serious literature. Behind seemingly absurd stories, there are actually amazing truths hidden, for example..." Ian was about to give a clear and logical rebuttal.

"Give me the manuscript!"

Bruce suddenly raised his voice and interrupted him. His mindset was somewhat explosive tonight, though not because of Ian, but because of what happened in Gotham.

Paper rain all over the streets.

Everyone in Gotham City had read the story that, in his prediction, should only circulate in the asylum. In this universe, things that could break Master Wayne's defenses were truly rare.

The Joker plus Ian's so-called talent really was that true devastating combination.

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