After the Ten Rings left, silence returned to the stone chamber.
Tony rolled his shoulder, which had been battered by a rifle butt, wincing with a hiss before turning to Leo Vance.
“You didn’t say a word just now.”
Leo Vance leaned against the wall, eyes closed.
Tony raised an eyebrow.
“Asleep?”
“Listening.”
“To what?”
“Footsteps.” Leo Vance opened his eyes.
“There are seven men outside.
Three near the cave mouth, two in the corridor, and two who swap shifts roughly every eight minutes.”
Tony blinked, caught off guard.
Ho Yinsen raised his head as well, looking at Leo Vance in surprise.
Tony opened his mouth.
“Weren’t you playing dead on the floor the whole time?”
“Playing dead doesn’t impair my hearing.”
Tony went silent for two seconds, then turned to Ho Yinsen.
“This guy’s even better at acting than I am.”
Ho Yinsen offered a faint smile, offering no reply.
Leo Vance continued, “The armory is to the northeast, roughly twenty meters away, guarded by two men.
The generator is further in—the noise comes from the southeast, about thirty meters out, heavy with the smell of gasoline.”
Tony’s expression gradually shifted.
He had assumed Leo Vance was just an ordinary soldier who got lucky and survived, but every word he just spoke was an assessment precise down to the exact distance.
“Are you really just Army?” Tony asked.
Leo Vance glided a glance over him.
“Guess.”
Tony: “…I’m starting to think getting blown up might not be the worst luck I’ve had.”
The corner of Leo Vance’s mouth twitched subtly.
A system prompt popped up at the same time.
[Host behavior aligns with character logic.]
[Role Performance Evaluation: Observation and deduction skills satisfactory.]
[Character completion increased.]
[Current Completion: 2% → 3%.]
Leo Vance didn’t let himself be distracted by the system panel.
Keeping his eyes closed, he repeatedly ran through the gathered information in his mind.
One of Batman’s habits was never relying on a single pass of memory.
Crucial information had to be verified at least three times to ensure absolute precision.
At that moment, Ho Yinsen spoke up.
“You understand what they’re saying?”
“Part of it,” Leo Vance said.
“Arabic mixed with a bit of Pashto.
They come from different regions, so their accents aren’t uniform.”
Tony couldn’t help taking another look at Leo Vance.
“You can even tell accents apart?”
“Listen enough times, and it becomes obvious.”
Tony: “…Now I’m suspecting you’re the monster the Ten Rings engineered.”
Leo Vance didn’t argue.
Because in a sense, Tony was right.
A few minutes later, he slowly stood up.
His movements were extremely light, making virtually no sound.
Tony noticed how his feet touched the ground: ball of the foot first, center of gravity lowered, every step intentionally stepping around gravel and scrap metal.
“What are you doing?”
“Stretching a bit.”
“Stretching requires walking like a cat?”
Leo Vance didn’t answer.
He walked to the entrance of the stone chamber, leaned in to listen for two seconds, and then backed away.
“The guards outside just swapped shifts.
Their attention is at its most scattered right now.”
Tony: “…Are you planning a jailbreak?”
Ho Yinsen also looked at Leo Vance, a trace of tension in his expression.
“Now?”
“No.” Leo Vance sat back down by the wall.
“Just observing for now.”
He truly had no intention of acting immediately.
Because he knew full well that he currently had nothing.
Batman’s strength had never come merely from his physique or gear; it was because he always prepared everything well in advance.
And right now, he was lacking far too much.
Information, tools, weapons, primary routes, backup routes—he didn’t even have a decent pair of goggles or windproof protection.
“How long have you two been here?” Leo Vance asked Ho Yinsen.
Ho Yinsen smiled bitterly.
“Hard to say.
A few days at least.”
“When do they bring food every day?”
“Twice a day, morning and evening.
Two guards each time.”
“Do the guards pat us down?”
“Not thoroughly.
But if you get too close, they’ll shove you back with rifle butts.”
Leo Vance nodded, integrating these details into the mental model in his mind.
Meal delivery times provided windows to observe the corridor structure amidst the disruption.
The lack of body searches meant there were opportunities to sneak small items into the chamber.
Shoving with rifle butts indicated a preference for deterrence over immediate lethal force.
Everything was within manageable parameters.
That evening, members of the Ten Rings brought food.
Two rations.
Bread, dried meat, and half a canteen of water.
Leo Vance noticed that when delivering the meal, they looked at Tony first before casually tossing the second portion in front of him.
This meant the priorities were crystal clear.
Tony was a “valuable asset,” while Leo Vance was merely an incidental stray picked up along the way.
This information was equally valuable.
Once the guards left, Leo Vance didn’t rush to eat.
Instead, he squeezed the piece of dried meat, tearing it open to inspect its internal texture.
Ho Yinsen was puzzled.
“What are you looking for?”
“Checking for razor blades.”
Tony was chewing on his bread and nearly choked.
“You’re even paranoid about that?”
“Force of habit.”
The system prompt popped up once more.
[Host behavior aligns with character logic.]
[Character Completion: 3% → 4%.]
Only after confirming the food was safe did Leo Vance begin eating slowly.
After finishing, he noticed the electromagnetic device on Tony’s chest glowing faint blue in the dim light.
“How much longer will that battery last?”
Tony glanced down.
“If I conserve power, maybe a day or two.
But honestly, this was a makeshift quick fix—there wasn’t even quality control—” He paused, looking at Leo Vance.
“Don’t look at me like that.
It won’t kill me yet.”
Leo Vance didn’t press further.
Because he knew Tony would definitely survive, and that the makeshift unit would last until Tony forged his Arc Reactor.
But he didn’t say it aloud.
Dropping spoilers wasn’t Batman’s style.
A truly master strategist never lets others know how much information he possesses.
As night deepened, the light inside the cave grew even dimmer.
The low hum of the diesel generator echoed through the rock wall, its rhythm steady like an ancient heartbeat.
Leo Vance lay on his side in a corner of the stone chamber, eyes closed.
But he was not asleep.
His brain operated continuously, piecing together, cross-verifying, and elaborating on every scrap of information gathered during the day.
The stance preferences of the cave mouth guards, the sequence of conversation during shift handovers, the lock type on the armory door, the general layout of the ventilation ducts, the location of the nearest fire suppression equipment…
Every detail coalesced into clear coordinates within his mind.
Another core trait of Batman was absolute mastery over his environment.
Without knowing the battlefield inside out, he would never make a move recklessly.
Around three in the morning.
A muffled cough echoed from the entrance, followed by a brief exchange of words.
Guard rotation.
Leo Vance slowly opened his eyes and, under the cover of the shadows along the wall, observed the handover process.
Two came in from outside, two headed out from inside, with a shift exchange taking roughly thirty seconds.
During this window, the entrance remained an unmonitored vacuum for at least thirty seconds.
Thirty seconds.
Enough.
Leo Vance mentally logged this time window before closing his eyes once again.
The system notification silently materialized in the dark.
[Target confirmed.]
[Host is requested to complete his debut in a manner worthy of “Batman,” without disrupting the main storyline.]
Leo Vance offered no response.
Because he knew that the actual strike would not occur on the very first night.
More preparation was required.
At least one more meal time, one full observation of a guard shift, and one opportunity for close-range contact.
Patience.
This was the primary distinction between Batman and ordinary heroes.
Ordinary heroes, upon acquiring power, often couldn’t wait to prove themselves.
Batman, however, would only take that first step when every condition had been met.