Ding~Ding~Ding~
A strange sound suddenly echoed through the basement. Marcus, in his void mode, watched as a secret door opened in the wall.
A bald doctor in a white coat walked out of the hidden passage with his hands clasped behind his back.
Behind him were two nurses in white coats carrying a stretcher. Lying on it was a comatose bald patient.
"What are they doing?"
The suspicious behavior made Marcus curious. Perhaps these people were connected to the owl.
Following them, Marcus remained in void mode, not worried about being discovered as he silently trailed the doctor.
Passing through the basement where numerous corpses hung, they arrived at an operating room filled with various surgical tools.
"Fix him properly. I don't want any complications with this operation!"
The doctor, now wearing surgical gear, instructed the two nurses. They remained silent, apparently long accustomed to such procedures.
Marcus stood aside, quietly observing their actions. The nurses secured the patient with restraints and administered anesthetic.
After completing their preparations, the doctor took up a skull drill and began the operation.
The patient's skull was drilled with precise holes. Then the doctor used a bone saw to open the cranium.
After completing this, the doctor set down his tools and picked up a scalpel.
Marcus finally understood what the doctor intended to do—he was performing a frontal lobotomy.
The doctor possessed extraordinary surgical skills, which made Marcus reconsider the corpses in the basement. Those people likely hadn't died of natural causes. They had probably contributed to the doctor's refined technique.
The operation proceeded successfully. The frontal lobe was removed and, after suturing the patient's wound, the doctor set down his tools and ordered:
"Return him to his room. Monitor his condition closely over the next few days."
The nurses still didn't respond verbally. They simply lifted the patient onto the stretcher and carried him from the operating room.
The doctor also left, carrying a surgical tray containing the patient's extracted frontal lobe.
Marcus followed him out through the secret door.
Once through, Marcus discovered the other side of the passage opened into a utility room in the medical wing.
The nurses transported the patient to a ward while the doctor carried the tray to another room.
Marcus followed, curious about what the doctor intended to do with the frontal lobe.
The doctor's office was spacious, and Marcus learned his name from the nameplate on the desk: Hugo Strange.
"If I remember correctly, this guy isn't exactly on the side of angels."
Marcus had a vague recollection of Hugo Strange. It seemed many of Bruce's future enemies were created by this man.
"An enemy of the little bat?" Marcus observed him with interest.
But Hugo remained oblivious to the invisible observer. He approached the window with the tray, and soon an owl appeared on the sill.
"Huh? Is this owl looking for him?"
The bird was familiar—it was the same owl that had led Marcus to Arkham Asylum.
Under Marcus's watchful gaze, Hugo placed the tray before the owl and smiled.
"Sorry for the wait. Here's your dinner."
The owl didn't hesitate, pecking at the frontal lobe on the tray with sharp, crisp sounds.
"So he removed that brain tissue just to feed the owl."
Now Marcus understood why the owl had flown here—it was attracted by the food Hugo provided.
When the tray was empty, the owl flapped its wings and flew away.
Marcus also left Hugo's room and headed back toward the city center.
"Come to think of it, the little bat's future is concerning. His enemies are almost all deranged."
He had just met Hugo, and this bald man who smiled while feeding human brain matter to an owl was merely one of countless adversaries in Bruce's future heroic career.
Indeed, Hugo wasn't even among the most dangerous of Bruce's many enemies.
The doctor was well-versed in psychology and remarkably intelligent. He typically manipulated people's minds to achieve his goals and create problems for Bruce.
"This is fascinating. I wonder how dire Gotham's future will become."
Marcus looked forward to seeing what changes would occur in Gotham when Bruce, having completed his training, eventually chose to become Batman.
Would there be an even more deranged Joker, or would there be an unparalleled Batman?
...
"Marcus, can you teach me how to throw darts now? Alfred has brought my darts!"
Bruce held a box containing dart made to look like Kunai to Marcus's. These had been specially customized for Bruce by Alfred.
Of course, these kunai were solid but deliberately dulled. This was for Bruce's protection.
Marcus was an adult and a master of throwing weapons. The kunai he used were lethal, but Bruce needed safer versions. His safety had to be considered.
Picking up one of the kunai from the box, Marcus twirled it in his hand. His disappointment at not finding the Court of Owls gradually subsided.
With a flick of his wrist, the small kunai spun through the air and embedded itself firmly in the wall.
Ding~
The unsharpened blade remained firmly in place.
"Not bad. It seems Alfred has put considerable effort into your kunai."
With the force of his throw, if the material had been any lesser quality, it would have bounced right off.
"Since you're so eager to learn, I won't refuse!"
Marcus demonstrated the techniques and explained them to Bruce. The boy listened attentively, which made Alfred, standing in the doorway, smile.
He knew Marcus could help Master Bruce overcome his grief.
Bruce's talent for learning was impressive. In just a few days, he had nearly mastered the dart-throwing skills. His occasional misses were only due to his young age and lack of strength.
This reminded Marcus of Tony, who specialized in making dart-enhancing devices. Tony's scientific talent was undeniably strong, but his mastery of actual dart-throwing was terrible.
They were both wealthy, yet their abilities differed so greatly. Why was that?
As Marcus pondered this, Alfred approached with tea.
"It seems Master Bruce truly enjoys the dart-throwing skills you've taught him." He offered Marcus a cup of black tea. "I believe he's beginning to move past the grief of losing his parents."
Alfred didn't want Bruce to remain immersed in sadness. As the Wayne family heir, Bruce needed to develop strength.
"Indeed, his progress speaks to his natural talent," Marcus said after sipping the tea. "Becoming proficient in throwing techniques in just a few days isn't something ordinary people can accomplish."
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Marvel x Star Wars: Avengers in the Clone Wars
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