The morning passed in a blur, and sunlight streamed through Axel Voss's window.
"Hoo… gasp… ah-choo!" Axel sneezed, startled awake, only to find Catwoman's sharp claws pressing against his eyelids.
Rolling his eyes, Axel deliberately inched his eyeball closer to the steel tips. Just as the claws were about to pierce his eye, Selina retracted them angrily and grabbed his collar.
"I searched all night and couldn't find Liv's body! Even if she was connected to the Court of Owls or wanted to take a shot at Falcone, she didn't do anything to you, Axel! So why did you dump her in a cement barrel and throw her into the Pacific?"
"Huh? Didn't do anything wrong? If she did something wrong to you, that counts as wrong to me too. And Liv in the Pacific? Damn it! But… I don't remember ordering that," Axel mumbled groggily, pushing Selina aside.
"But what was with that claw just now? Were you trying to kill me?"
Before she could answer, Axel casually grabbed Selina by the neck and tossed her through the window.
Crash! Selina rolled over ten meters across the lawn.
Hearing the commotion, Alfred rushed into the room, eyes wide.
"Th-that… that was glass and window frames shipped from Buckingham Palace!"
"Oh, really? Impressive. Maybe I'll swing by Buckingham Palace again and bring a few souvenirs," Axel said lazily, rubbing his eyes before trudging to the bathroom. He ran the water, continuing to doze in the bathtub.
Outside, Selina gritted her teeth and leaped back onto the lawn, her anger clear. Alfred spread his hands helplessly.
"His morning temper is extraordinary, and most importantly, he doesn't see being woken by a woman as romantic or enjoyable," Alfred muttered.
"To hell with romance! Bad luck meeting him, damn it!" Selina cursed, grinding her teeth as she stormed out, mounting Axel's motorcycle and speeding away.
Half an hour later, Axel emerged from the bathtub, letting Alfred help with his hair.
"Selina came and left again?" he asked, rubbing his chin.
"Yes, sir. She came, and she left in a huff," Alfred replied, pressing a hand to Axel's shoulder.
"If I were thirty or forty years younger, Master Axel, I wouldn't treat a lady with such indifference as you do," Alfred said.
"Heh heh, no wonder you're alone in the manor. I never would've guessed you were such an old simp. Simps never end well!" Axel teased, patting Alfred's shoulder in return.
"Selina's like a cat. You can never catch her. Wherever you place her, she'll find another place to be. When a cat craves freedom, it leaves. When it grows bored of play, you just remind it there's a place that barely counts as home," Axel continued.
Alfred frowned. "And for you, Master Axel, do you still have a home in your heart?"
Axel paused, giving Alfred a wry, annoyed look.
"Old Buddy, I didn't keep you around to stab me in the heart. Though I truly have no home left, I've made Gotham mine. Believe me, I've grown to like this city, haha!"
Laughing, Axel walked toward the motorcycle's original spot. Seeing it gone, he cursed under his breath and left Wayne Manor on foot.
He hadn't walked half a minute when Alfred drove up in a Phantom, rolling down the window.
"Master, are you sure you don't want a ride? Even if you dislike being chauffeured by an old man like me, there are plenty of cars you could take. I don't think Bruce would mind," Alfred said.
"You can forget it! Cars I've driven are basically wrecked. Better not abuse family property. I'll grab one on the road later. Gothamites are generous; someone's bound to lend me a car," Axel replied, quickening his pace.
Alfred nodded and pulled out a notebook as Axel disappeared into the city.
Before he could find a car, a taxi pulled up eagerly in front of him.
"Sir, care for a humble ride? Seeing you walk from Gotham's oldest villa district, I thought you might enjoy seeing life differently," the handsome, blonde driver said, stepping out to open the door.
Axel nodded. "Not bad, Buddy, but I don't have money," he said, climbing into the back.
The driver sighed but accepted it, starting the engine.
"I thought you were rich, coming from the villa district. Rich folks don't curse small-time people like me. They either curse selectively or look disgusted, like stepping in dog poop," the driver muttered.
He glanced at Axel. "Buddy, how did you get in there? I've avoided the villa district for over half a year — helicopters patrol it constantly. Are you some master thief? Or do you moonlight, helping rich ladies enjoy themselves?"
Axel leaned back, patting the seat. "Buddy, why can't I be rich instead of a thief or gigolo?"
"Uh…" the driver pressed the horn. "Listen to yourself. Which sentence sounds like a rich man?"
He tossed a business card into Axel's lap.
"You're handsome, so here's a card. If you need money without risk, call this modeling agency. It's called a modeling agency, but it's really a male escort service. Good-looking foreigners like you are rare. You might even be more popular than me."
"Damn it, this cursed America. I'm a foreigner now!" Axel spat, shoving the card into his pocket and kicking the back of the seat.
"I'm headed to the Iceberg Lounge. You'd better remember that. But you're interesting. If you're a gigolo, why drive a taxi?"
The blonde driver laughed. "Fast food noble ladies order doesn't impress them. I drive around to meet rich women by chance, and a few nights' earnings cover a year and a half of my living expenses. And rich men? They're generous too. My last male lover let me relax for three years without work. If he hadn't died at seventy-nine, I'd still be in a castle in Florida."
"Enough talk. Where are we going again? Iceberg Lounge?"
"Yes, sir. Iceberg Lounge," the driver said, glancing nervously. "A lot of people have died there, Buddy. Why are you going?!!!"
"Hey, damn it, watch the road, or you'll crash!"
Boom!!!