1.

Well today was a very productive day.

Turns out, there are 907 shops in Gotham that specifically sell guns, and 356 that sell guns and other things as well. That's going to be a lot of work, but it makes sense. This is Gotham, after all. And no matter how long it takes, I will find my parents' murderer.

Borris' jaw dropped into hell when he heard how many gun shops we'll have to sort through.

"Jeez, that's a lot of gun shops," he said, "No wonder the police aren't willing to chase this lead. This could take months, Bruce! You absolutely sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, Borris. I am absolutely certain," I replied.

"You know, maybe revenge isn't the best way to get over your parents' death," said Borris.

"Oh, not this again!" I groaned.

"Seriously, though. You might want to visit a therapist instead. Do you know how many movies there are about revenge being bad? Hell, "The Mark of Zorro" was one of them. Maybe you should take a hint."

"Shut up, Borris! Movies aren't reality, you know! And no amount of therapy will fix the burning rage in here. And don't say that it will. You're either with me or you're not, and if you are, then stop trying to stop the mission!"

"Alright, alright," said Borris, "I hear you. If you won't change your mind, then I guess we'd better get going. What's the first gun shop we're going to?"

"The closest one."

Which turned out to be Beth's Gunnery. Driving towards it with Borris in my Tank-Lamborghini (a vehicle specifically designed to protect you in Gotham City), I felt a sense of purpose and determination. Now that I'd started, nothing would stop me except death and imprisonment. Borris seemed to take the hint I'd given him earlier, and hasn't gone into another long-winded speech about the futility of my mission since.

We arrived at Beth's Gunnery in twelve minutes, and turned on the Tank-Lamborghini safety protocols, fully shielding it from any damage or thievery. We also put on disguises to conceal our identity as relatives of two of the formerly richest people in Gotham, and then we went inside. The shop smelled of my personal third-favourite fragrance, Le Fouton Rouge, which was a nice surprise.

"Le Fouton Rouge," I said to the woman at the counter, "Nice."

"Glad someone's got taste," said the woman, "I'm Beth. How can I help you?"

"Hi, Beth. I'm assuming you're the manager of this shop?"

"Obviously."

"Well then, I'm going to get straight to the point. Can I see a list of people who've bought Freebullets and Dognappers in the previous week, as well as their addresses?"

Beth's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I can't give you that information. That's confidential customer data you're asking for."

I nodded. I'd been expecting this.

"What if," I said, pulling out $5,000, "theoretically, someone were to give you this? Would you give this hypothetical person the information then? I know for a fact that this hypothetical person would never tell anyone else. Plus, this is Gotham, so who really cares, right?"

Beth looked hungrily at the money.

"Why do you even want this data anyway?" she asked.

"Well, I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Beth," I said, leaning in, "My parents just died. They were murdered by either a Freebullet or a Dognapper, bought a week ago. Now, the police don't want to search up this lead, so I'm doing the job for them."

After explaining to her why the police didn't want to search up the lead, Beth seemed to have an internal struggle, but finally gave in to greed and gave me my data. She also swore she'd never tell anyone of our interaction. Satisfied with this, I walked out of the shop with my first victory.

"Damn, Bruce," said Borris, once we were back in the Tank-Lamborghini, "That was cold."

"I did what I had to do. There would've been no other way."

"You do realise that you'll come across someone who won't listen to your money someday, right?"

"In Gotham? Unlikely. But if the worst comes to worst, I'll force the data out with brute force."

"Bruce, I feel like that's going too far."

"I'm already breaking the law by going on this investigation, Borris."

"You'd only get a couple of years maximum if you were caught, Bruce! That is, if you don't choose to kill the culprit and instead bring him to justice. If you started threatening people instead of bribing them, it would be something new entirely. It would be armed robbery."

"I will kill my parents' murderer. He deserves nothing better."

"Still, Bruce, these gun shop owners are almost certainly innocent!"

"Not in Gotham."

"Well innocent of murder then! Point is, you can't just threaten them!"

"I will do anything for this mission, Borris. You need to get used to that."

Borris sighed and gave in.

Next, we went to the Gunshop of Delight. They sell both guns and sex toys there. Best of both worlds, I guess. The story there was pretty much the same as the previous one.

We went to three more gun shops, and then Borris said, "If you're planning on threatening people, then you're going to at least need to learn how to do karate."

"Karate?"

"What if they fight back, Bruce?"

"Good point, I guess. Could you hire someone for me? I'm not bothered doing it myself."

"Of course."

So that's the interesting part of my day. We spent the rest of it visiting seven more gun-shops before deciding to call it a day. Twelve shops done. One-thousand, two-hundred and fifty-one left.

2.

We got our karate teacher today.

It was at four o'clock in the morning. Four o'clock in the morning! I was sleeping inside my custom-made Bruce Wayne Bed, the only one in existence, like a normal person, and Borris was sleeping in his even more ordinary $47000 bed, when we heard the the loudest knock ever conceived in the world and were (very rudely, in my opinion) called forth from our slumbers.

"That must be the new karate teacher," said Borris.

"You've been expecting this?" I snapped, plagued with irritability from being woken from a dream about cupcakes flying on Mayor Garcia's head.

Borris simply shrugged, much to my sleep-deprived disgust. We walked down the halls and stairs. Wayne Manor is big, so it took us a while, and throughout this entire journey, while my eyes were begging me to close and my brain confusedly tried to work at a time when, in its opinion, it shouldn't be working, I was thinking, "This new karate teacher'd better be worth it."

He wasn't.

He was an old man of Caucasian appearance, well-dressed in a fashionable yet old-style suit. I fleetingly remarked that it was pretty expensive. Guess he wanted to make a nice first impression on me. He would've succeeded at a more appropriate time.

He regarded me with kindly eyes and a big smile.

"Hello," he said, "Are you Mr Bruce Wayne?"

"Call us at a more appropriate hour," I said, and slammed the door.

That felt good.

"Bruce!" hissed Borris, "Learn some manners! Open the door and apologise! This is no way to act!"

"He called at four o'clock in the morning, Borris! Why doesn't he learn some manners?"

"He's allowed to call at four in the morning! It's part of the contract you signed!"

"I didn't actually read it!"

"I even warned you about that specific bit, and you were fine with it!"

"I wasn't paying attention!"

"Well, why on Earth not!?"

"I was playing a really good game!"

"What game?"

"'Gotham Legends.'"

"That is a pretty good game."

"I know! That's what I'm saying!"

"Well, why were you playing a game when you should've been reading the contract?"

"My parents just died, Borris! I need to have some me time!"

We eventually opened the door again. The karate teacher was still there, looking shocked and a little bit offended.

"Terribly sorry, sir," said Borris, "Bruce here was just a little confused about the time at which you were arriving."

"Oh, that's alright then," chuckled the karate teacher, "I know some people can be put off at my schedule."

I slammed the door again.

"He's British!?" I hissed.

"What's wrong with British?"

"Because tea is illegal in Gotham, Borris!"

"He's aware of this!"

"Are you sure about that?"

"You could've asked him that question before you slammed the door on him for the second time! How are we going to explain that, Bruce? He's most likely walked away by now. And serves you right for treating him like a poor person!"

"I don't treat poor people like that! My father raised me better!"

"Figure of speech, Bruce."

"Whatever."

We opened the door for the third time. The teacher was still there. Makes sense, though. We are among the high ranks of the richest people in Gotham.

"I am so sorry, Mr Pennyworth," said Borris Wayne, "My cousin here simply forgot himself for a moment. He's not used to your schedule, and feels sleepy, you see. It won't happen again, I assure you of it."

"Oh, no need to apologise," said Mr Pennyworth, "I am quite aware of the ways one can get lost while being sleepy. I have experienced it myself, you see."

"Highly unlikely," I thought.

"Yes, it really does cause strife in one's mind," agreed Borris.

"So I'm assuming this is the famous Mr Bruce Wayne?" said Mr Pennyworth, looking at me, "But of course it is! Why, you're all over the news, young man! The tragic orphaned boy and the soon-to-be inheritor of Wayne Enterprises!"

"It's a lot to process," agreed Borris, "You'll have a lot to manage once you start working your father's job, Bruce."

"Quite so," said Mr Pennyworth, "But allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth, but you can call me Alfred for short. I don't do any of that 'master' nonsense. Instead, allow me to call you 'master', Mr Wayne."

I thought that I wouldn't like that very much, and I still think so now, but Borris was frowning at me, so I internally sighed and gave in.

"Excellent!" said Alfred, "Thank you very much! I of course also ask for a few more things as your karate teacher."

"Yes?"

"I would like full control of your kitchen, although I'm not allowed to eat anything without your permission, and to be able to bring you drinks and snacks occasionally."

Again, I was weirded out and was about to say no, but was again stopped by Borris.

"Perfectly okay by me," I lied.

"Additionally," Alfred added, "I would like to bring in Fluffles the Third whenever I'm visiting."

"Fluffles the Third?"

"My white cat. You don't need to feed her anything, because I'll bring everything she needs," said Alfred.

He then leaned in and whispered, "She really likes cheese."

At this point I was very tired and very much missing my bed so I agreed to all of this quickly. We then spoke some pleasantries about the weather, with me yawning for most of the conversation, and then Borris asked Alfred if he wanted to go inside and have a cup of coffee, to which Alfred agreed.

"I'll take care of this," whispered Borris, "You can go back to bed."

"Thanks," I yawned, "I owe you one," and then, muttering, "British people!" I went to sleep.

And now I'm about to have my first karate lesson.