Hollywood Black-and-White Films (Part One)

In the morning, in an office at Arkham Asylum, Schiller set down the book in his hands. Peter, wearing a backpack, stood at the door and knocked. Schiller looked up and said, "Come in."

"Doctor, I’m back." Peter was in high spirits. After walking in, he took the backpack off his shoulder, unzipped it, and began rummaging through it. After searching for quite a while, he gave a cry of surprise. "Oh, here it is!"

As he spoke, he took a box from his backpack. It was a square transparent case containing an old-fashioned film reel, the kind used on hand-cranked projectors.

Peter handed the reel to Schiller, scratched his head, and said a little sheepishly, "I thought you might like this."

Schiller smiled as he accepted the reel. "More than the gift, I’m curious—how was your trip to Hollywood?"

Peter made a strange face. One eyebrow rose while the other fell, creating a step between them, and one eye was bigger than the other in an even more comical expression. It was the most common goofy face of Spider-Man from the comics.

Peter sighed. "That’s a long story."

As Schiller unwrapped the old film reel, he said, "No rush. We can watch an old movie while you tell it."

Peter looked at the unwrapped reel and said, "This thing is a real antique. Modern projectors probably can’t even use this kind of film anymore, right?"

"You should know who would have a projector capable of showing this…"

The morning light grew brighter and brighter, passing beyond noon and arriving at the sleepy afternoon.

With a click, Steve bent down and pulled out the stand of the old projector, then pointed toward the window.

Stark walked over to the window, grumbling as he drew the curtains. Schiller sat on one side of the sofa and clinked glasses with Connors, who was seated in the armchair beside him. Natasha lowered her head, fiddling with a small golden statuette souvenir.

"I’m telling you, aside from this antique, who else would want to use such a battered machine to play this kind of ancient movie?"

After Stark said that, everyone in the room looked up and stared at him. Stark froze for a moment, then said, "Don’t tell me I’m the only one who doesn’t want to watch?"

"Come on, with this much time, why wouldn’t I go make some new contribution to human civilization?"

Stark muttered as he sat down on the sofa. Steve, standing behind it, flipped the projector’s switch. As black-and-white images appeared on the wall before them, Steve walked over and sat on the sofa as well.

Along with the lively jazz music of a last-century film, the objects in Schiller’s field of vision began to lose their color. The fabric sofa gradually became smooth, while the sheen of leather spread from one corner of the other sofa until it covered the whole thing.

The lamp stand grew taller. Vintage patterns climbed over the glass lampshade like vines. Old wooden grain spread across the alloy window frame. The sunlight streaming in from outside dimmed from glaring brightness, and at the instant the sun sank below the horizon, a knock sounded at the door.

Bruce stood outside. Schiller set down his pen, rose to his feet, and looked at him. "Your Hollywood trip is over?"

Bruce pressed his lips together, his expression somewhat strange. Schiller asked, "What is it? Selene having trouble adjusting?"

"She adjusted very well." Bruce’s tone was low, but there was a hint of complicated emotion in it.

"Then it seems you’re the one having trouble adjusting?"

Bruce said nothing. He took an elegantly wrapped wooden box from the bag in his hand and offered it to Schiller. "…A souvenir, Professor."

Schiller accepted the box and saw the old film reel inside. "How did you know there was an old projector in my manor?… Oh, never mind. That was a stupid question."

With a click, Harvey straightened the projector stand and aimed its head at the wall. Victor set down his wineglass and leaned against the back of the soft genuine-leather sofa. Gordon was lighting a cigar for Schiller, then picked up one for himself, lit it, and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Bruce sat in an armchair to one side with his eyes half-closed. He looked a little sleepy, like a bat dozing in a cave.

As the projector switch was flipped, the movie appeared on the wall. The cheerful orchestral melody began to sink into a lower register. Percussion and drumbeats joined in, while a sports car engine roared and wind howled.

"Wow!!" Selene wriggled out of her seatbelt and stretched her upper body outside the door of the convertible. Bruce, who was driving, swiftly pulled her back in, then sighed.

That was already the thirtieth-something time he had sighed along this stretch of road. Selene rested an arm on the door, tilted her head back, and chewed gum. She blew a bubble, turned to Bruce, and said, "Honestly, when you took off your mask, you really scared me. You’re actually Wayne."

"I thought you’d figured it out long ago."

"I knew you were rich, but I didn’t know you were this rich." Selene pressed a finger to her temple as she chewed her gum. "But you said you were taking me to Hollywood to make a movie. Isn’t that a little ridiculous?"

Selene said in a deliberately casual tone, "I’ve snuck into movie theaters to watch films before. I think I look about the same as those actresses on screen, but…"

Her tone became hesitant again. "Fine, I admit it. I’m just a girl born in the Slums. I’ve never seen much of the world since I was born. If that many cameras were pointed at me, I might get so scared I’d start shaking."

"I just wanted to find you something proper to do." Bruce turned the steering wheel and rounded a bend. "As long as you don’t steal anything, no one will question your place on the set, because I’m investing in the entire movie…"

Selene first glanced at the scenery flying past the window, then blinked her large eyes at Bruce. "You’re really good to me."

Bruce’s hands on the steering wheel stiffened for an instant. Selene noticed his reaction and deliberately leaned closer to him. "You get nervous too? That’s really rare."

"Even if I haven’t lived the life of you rich guys, I know you must have plenty of female companions. Are you like this around them too?"

Bruce turned his head away, avoiding Selene as she pressed close. He slowed the car and said, "Hollywood is here… Look over there."

Following Bruce’s gaze, Selene saw enormous white letters on a lush green hillside in the distance—"HOLLYWOOD."

At that moment, the sun behind the letters was slowly sinking below the horizon. Clouds in the sky sped through their transformations, falling into night and then arriving at dawn. When morning light shone from behind the letters, Peter draped a blanket over Gwen beside the car and pointed at the sign. "Look, we’re here."

Gwen’s smile was especially radiant in the morning light. Peter nearly stared himself dumb. Seeing his blank expression, Gwen burst out laughing. "Do you know how red your face is?"

Peter awkwardly turned his head forward, rubbed his face with his hands, then pushed back the hair on his forehead with both hands. He stared straight into the morning light at the white letters on the hillside.

"I heard it was originally a billboard put up by a real estate developer to sell houses."

"But now, the copyright probably belongs to the Los Angeles city government." Gwen brushed back the long hair by her temple. "The reason I wanted to visit Hollywood was because I saw that sign in a movie when I was little. Back then, I even fantasized about changing it to my own name."

"You wanted to make your name that huge and put it on a hillside?" Peter stared wide-eyed at Gwen as though he no longer recognized her.

Gwen laughed so hard she could barely catch her breath. She patted Peter’s shoulder with one hand and said, "That’s what I was like as a kid. My dad was especially supportive too. He made several identical white letters out of cardboard and put them on my windowsill. I was thrilled. Seriously, wouldn’t you want that?"

With one hand on Peter’s shoulder, Gwen stretched out the fingers of her other hand toward the sign. "People driving down this road would be able to see your name. Lots of people would even stop specially to take pictures, just like us…"

"Wait!" Peter turned back. "Speaking of stopping… isn’t parking prohibited here???"

The moment he said it, he saw several uniformed traffic officers walking over to drive away the tourists parked there. Gwen grabbed Peter. "Get in the car! I don’t want to pay a fine!"

The two scrambled to open the doors and get into the car. Peter started the engine and stepped on the gas. Behind them, he heard the cries of slower runners being fined. The two looked at each other and broke into bright smiles.

The car looked tiny on the long road. At the edge of the sky, the light was covered by clouds and dimmed. With a slap, a ticket was stuck to the side of the convertible.

Bruce rested one hand outside the car door, a stack of dollars pinched between his fingers. In his other hand, he held a cigarette. Selene took the cigarette from her own mouth and leaned over to light Bruce’s.

The traffic officer squeezed the unusually generous wad of cash in his hand and smiled at Bruce. "Stay as long as you like, sir. Have a pleasant trip."

Bruce did not even look at him. He merely held his cigarette in one hand, watching the smoke blend into the sunset on the horizon. "Now you can look for as long as you want."

Selene pushed open the car door, walked to the roadside, stretched, and yawned. Squinting into the evening light, she said, "I really never thought there would be a day when I could be in the same place as those movie stars…"

A jacket was tossed from the car and landed on Selene’s shoulders. She turned back toward Bruce, who was still in the driver’s seat. "There’s nothing wrong with you, especially the fact that you’re rich…"

Selene turned around, braced an arm on the car door, and leaned her upper body back into the car. "But I always felt that the Bruce Wayne I read about in the newspapers wasn’t like this. They said you had a bunch of shady friends, loved fooling around, were a Prodigal Son in love, and had every woman falling for you…"

"But why do I feel like you can’t relax at all? You’re always nervous, and…" Selene opened the door and climbed back inside, then pressed herself against Bruce. Smiling, she breathed against his ear. "…and a little shy too?"

Seeing Bruce’s neck stiffen at once, Selene blinked. "You really are a mystery. Compared to a bat, I think you’re more like a ball of yarn, my sir."

"Isn’t that perfect?" Bruce looked back at her. When those clear blue eyes looked at Selene, they were clearer than the sky over the West Coast.

"You happen to be a cat, my lady."