Sebastian and Barbara stood near the entrance as the police escorted the man away, his protests fading as he was pushed into the car.
The quiet of the library slowly returned.
Barbara turned toward him, arms crossing lightly.
“For someone who talks about being pragmatic,” she said, “putting yourself in danger like that wasn’t what I expected.
That was reckless.” Sebastian replied “Actually, I was not in any real danger.” Barbara raised an eyebrow.
“And why is that?
From where I was standing, the gun looked real.
And it turned out to be real.” “Because we are in a public library,” Sebastian replied.
Barbara stared at him.
“care to explain?” Sebastian spoke as if it was something obvious.
“Only an extraordinary idiot or a paranoid lunatic would attempt to rob a place like this.
If he was the former, then I should be able to trick him.
If he was the latter, then he most likely wouldn’t shoot, out of fear of damaging whatever imaginary treasure he believes is here.” He paused briefly.
“If this had happened anywhere else, I would have turned around and left.” Barbara blinked, then shook her head.
“That’s ridiculous logic.” “It is not,” Sebastian replied evenly.
“And I believe in it.” “You shouldn’t,” she muttered.
Then her expression shifted, more curious now.
“Did you have training before?
First the alley, and now this…” “Yes,” Sebastian said.
“Some mixed martial arts courses.
Combined with a good physique, it can take you quite far in the world of violence.” He fell silent for a moment, then continued, “Since I saved you earlier, and then helped your workplace avert a shooting, I believe I am entitled to a reward.” Barbara looked at him, surprised.
“Is that so?
What do you want?” “Novels that represent culture across different eras,” Sebastian replied.
“They can be about the United States, England, or any other country, as long as they are in English.” Barbara said.
“That’s… a wide range.” “Yes,” Sebastian said.
“But you are the librarian who owes me.
I see no issue in putting you to work within your field of expertise.” Barbara gave him a flat look.
“You should know, we have policies.
There’s a limit to how many books you can borrow.
And you need to be a registered member.” “I can register now,” Sebastian said.
“If there is no issue.
As for the books, I only need a list.
I can borrow them gradually.” Barbara considered him for a moment, then nodded.
“Fine.” ——— Minutes later, Sebastian stepped out of the library, two books in hand, both focused on Russian culture.
He hadn’t expected to run into Batgirl at all, and in broad daylight, during something as mundane as a walk to the library.
If he had recognized her earlier in the alley, he would have taken a different route.
In the first place, he confronted the robber because it was a shortcut and the idiot blocked it.
But by the time he realized, it was already too late.
He had acted and spoken in front of her enough to attract her attention.
Detectives in the Bat Family had a brute-force approach to logic.
They were persistent with anything they saw.
They didn’t need certainty or suspicion, just anything unusual, and they would follow it to the end of earth.
Refuse to let go until they reach a conclusion that satisfies them.
That was the problem.
Which was why he had chosen to act the way he did in the library.
He needed to be consistent just enough to avoid deeper scrutiny.
A “good person” with rough edges.
She would look into him.
That was inevitable.
But if everything aligned, it would remain surface-level.
That was enough to keep his fake identity intact till he works on a better lie that can’t be verified.
As for the books… He needed something that justified his presence, his behavior, his interest.
Victorian-era materials would have been ideal for refining his butler persona, but that would have to wait.
——— Later that day, Barbara sat alone behind the reception desk.
Her attention was fixed on her device.
She had accessed police records.
The name: Sebastian Michaelis.
An orphan from Central City.
Employment history: A mixed martial arts club.
She scrolled.
The next entry caught her attention.
He had been kicked out.
Reason: involvement in a street altercation.
Four men had ganged up on one of his students.
Sebastian had intervened.
The result was all four were hospitalized.
Barbara read the report carefully.
The police had determined the force used was excessive.
The club had paid a fine, settled with the injured parties, and then expelled him.
She leaned back, considering.
Her mind replayed the alley.
The library.
His words ‘I’m more of a villain.’ “So that’s what he meant,” she murmured.
Barbara closed the device.
There was no need to dig deeper.
What she had seen, and what she had read.
Together, she formed an initial opinion of the guy.
He wasn’t harmless or a saint.
But he wasn’t a bad person either.
——— For the past week, Batman had been searching.
Every network, every contact, every database he had access to, he used them all in an attempt to trace the identity of the mysterious butler who had appeared out of nowhere and just as quickly disappeared.
A man calling himself Alfred.
A butler.
Someone who fought like him, moved like him, and claimed to have trained under the same ancient Tibetan monks.
And then there was the detail that refused to leave his mind.
The man had smelled an experienced English butler tied to Jason.
Batman didn’t believe that one bit.
He was certain that this butler knew Batman was Bruce Wayne.
However, he didn’t say it directly and instead masked it as some sort of a joke.
Which made it worse.
Because that meant he had some sort of an intent.
Someone like that didn’t appear by accident.
Didn’t decide to work for the Joker without purpose.
There had to be a reason.
An angle.
The Joker himself didn’t know who this person was or why he wanted to be a butler.
The crazy clown just accepted him and rolled out with it without much thought, just adding a new color to his chaos.
So what was the butler’s goal?
Was it a warning?
A message that he knew who Batman was and could expose him at any time?
If so, why do it as the Joker’s butler?
Nothing about it aligned.
Nothing about it made sense.
And then there was the other detail.
The shift at the end.
One moment, the man spoke normally, calm and respectful.
The next, his tone changed entirely.
His manner of speech shifted to distinctly Victorian English.
If it wasn’t an act, then that was how he truly spoke when agitated.
Batman had pursued that lead relentlessly.
He had searched for anyone with ties to England.
Anyone recently arriving.
Anyone with a history connected to Victorian literature, culture, speech patterns.
He had even gone through bookstore records and library databases, scanning for individuals who showed interest in Victorian-era novels and poetry.
Nothing.
No matches.
No trace.
Whether the man had been telling the truth or not, it didn’t matter.
His identity remained completely unknown.
“You know,” a voice came from behind him, “I think you should give up trying to find anything on him.
Better to just catch him next time before he turns into smoke.” Batman didn’t turn.
His eyes remained fixed on the screens in front of him.
“There was an incident today at Gotham Central Public Library.” “And of course you already know about that,” Batgirl said.
“Yeah, some lunatic tried to rob the place.” Robin’s voice came from beside her.
“What?
Robbing a public library now?
That’s just dumb.” Batman continued.
“The report mentioned a civilian male stopped him before anyone was harmed.” Batgirl nodded.
“Yes.
Sebastian.
A mixed martial artist from Central City.
He arrived in Gotham recently.” Batman’s eyes narrowed.
“You already looked into him?” “I met him earlier today,” she said.
“I got curious.
The way he carried himself… and he called himself a villain, even though he didn’t act like one.” She continued.
“Turns out he was kicked out of his martial arts club in Central City.
There was an incident, he protected one of the students from a group of thugs.
He injured them and was blamed for it.” Batman absorbed the information without immediate response.
Stories like that weren’t unusual.
People doing the right thing.
Getting punished for it due to legal complications or corruption.
Robin raised an eyebrow and said.
“Sounds like a guy who has no problem beating people up.” Batgirl gave a small nod.
“Yeah.
And he doesn’t hesitate to tell them they’re idiots while doing it.” She briefly recounted her encounter with him, the alley, the library and his general attitude.
Robin grinned.
“He sounds fun.” Batman finally turned, stepping away from the screens.
“Time to go on patrol,” he said.
Then, more firmly “And I’ll repeat, if you find any clue about that butler, inform me immediately.” Both of them nodded.
“Got it,” Batgirl said.
Robin stretched, then added casually, “You know… if we ever find him, we should convince him to open a restaurant or a dessert shop.
It would be a crime if he doesn’t cook.” Batgirl glanced at him.
“I still can’t believe you ate the food he gave us.” Robin shrugged.
“Bruce checked it.
It was completely safe.” He paused, then added, almost thoughtfully, “And I got curious after seeing how the Joker and his crew were acting.” A small grin formed.
“His food is… unlike anything I’ve ever eaten.
You skipped on something exceptional.”