Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [209]

"Ow!"

Before Kathoom had flown far from Kamar-Taj, a sudden, pained cry escaped him as he plummeted to the ground.

Clutching his stomach, his face twisted in agony.

"What's wrong with you?"

The Ancient One strolled over leisurely, her hands clasped behind her back. A mere glance was enough for her to deduce what was happening.

"You ate too much."

She stated plainly, "Your stomach hadn't digested the food yet, and then you flew so quickly—now you've upset your digestive system."

Without waiting for a reply, the Ancient One reached out, gently pressing her hand on Kathoom's distended, owl-like belly.

With that simple motion, the bloated roundness of his stomach quickly subsided.

"This is all your fault," Kathoom muttered, feeling the pain in his abdomen dissipate. His tone was filled with grievance. "I wouldn't have had to move so violently if you hadn't stopped me mid-flight!"

This—

The Ancient One was momentarily speechless.

True, she had intercepted Kathoom mid-flight, but wasn't it his insistence on following her back to Kamar-Taj that caused this gastrointestinal distress?

"I don't care."

Kathoom declared with an air of entitlement. "I need to recuperate at Kamar-Taj. I won't leave until I'm fully recovered."

Faced with his shamelessness, the Ancient One could only sigh in resignation.

Fine. This might actually work out, she thought to herself.

An otherworldly visitor from a different dimension—if he was content to stay under her watchful eyes, it could save her from dealing with unnecessary trouble.

"Very well," the Ancient One said with a resigned smile. "If you wish to stay at Kamar-Taj, you are more than welcome. We always welcome guests."

"Now that's more like it."

Kathoom snorted in satisfaction, finally appeased. He then glared at the Ancient One.

"What are you standing there for?"

Spreading his wings as he lay on the ground, Kathoom demanded, "Pick me up. Or do you think I can still fly after all this?"

The Ancient One's brow twitched imperceptibly. This owl's audacity was beyond anything she had encountered before.

Could leaving such a creature at Kamar-Taj truly be a good idea?

For now, she had no definitive answer. Suppressing her thoughts with a soft sigh, she bent down to lift the owl and carried him toward the training hall.

"I'm thirsty."

Kathoom announced as he nestled comfortably in her arms. "When we get there, pour me a drink."

"Don't push your luck," the Ancient One replied coolly.

"Are you scolding me?"

Kathoom's face twisted into an expression of utter disbelief. "You stopped me mid-flight when I wasn't doing anything wrong, and now you're scolding me!

"I'm so understanding, staying by your side to ease your worries, and yet you won't even pour me a glass of water!

"And you call yourself the Sorcerer Supreme? How can you justify this blatant mistreatment?"

As Kathoom continued his tirade, his tone grew increasingly aggrieved, and by the end, he sounded on the verge of tears.

The Ancient One silently recited calming mantras to quell the emotions that were bubbling within her.

"Fine."

Forcing a faint smile, she asked, "What would you like to drink?"

"Tea will do," Kathoom said nonchalantly, then added, "Oh, and don't forget to add some honey!"

---

"Where's your owl?"

It was a new morning in Queens.

The Hall family was engaged in their usual spy activity—a highly critical segment of their mission: enjoying a seemingly harmonious breakfast together as a family.

At the moment, Pietro was buttering his toast while directing a question at Bruce.

That owl hasn't been seen for two days now. Did Bruce release it back into the wild?

"He went out to play," Bruce replied casually, taking a bite of his sandwich. "He's always like this—disappears for a few days without warning and then just shows up again."

"Oh~" Pietro nodded, commenting offhandedly, "That's a shame. Wanda really likes your owl. She was hoping they'd become friends, maybe even play together someday."

Is that so?

Bruce glanced at Wanda. She usually appeared indifferent to everything, yet it seemed she had a hidden soft spot for the owl.

Wanda, who was leisurely tearing at her bread, suddenly noticed Bruce's gaze. She glared at him in return, then reached under the table and pinched Pietro's side with surprising force.

You just can't stop talking, can you?

"Ah—!"

Pietro inhaled sharply, almost crying out, but Wanda's grip tightened, as if warning him to stay silent.

Under the oppressive pressure of sibling dynamics, Pietro could only grimace, swallowing his yelp.

"Alright, kids," Mr. Hall finally spoke up, cutting through the tension. "Let's pick up the pace. Today's your first day at school, and we can't be late."

Pietro seized the opportunity to wriggle free from Wanda's grasp, retreating to safety.

"We'll move quickly! We definitely won't be late!" he declared, chomping down on his toast at lightning speed. He didn't bring up the owl—or anything else—again.

The breakfast session wrapped up shortly after.

Afterward, Mr. Hall drove them to Midtown School.

Pietro, clearly excited, couldn't stop fidgeting. Having been an orphan for so long, he never imagined he'd get another chance to attend school.

As they neared their destination, Mr. Hall glanced at them in the rearview mirror and issued a reminder.

"Pietro, you need to remember something—you're not here to actually study."

He continued, "Once you're in the school, SHIELD agents will assess you. They'll bring you into their Junior Agents program, which is your real mission."

"I know, I know!" Pietro grinned mischievously. "But I've always wondered—can kids really be spies?"

"What do you think?" Mr. Hall didn't answer directly, throwing the question back at him instead.

Pietro's demeanor was perhaps a little too naive. Was he underestimating SHIELD's cunning?

The deceptive appearance of children was a natural advantage, one no espionage agency could ignore. SHIELD's junior agents weren't just for show—they often undertook vital missions.

For instance—

Even in The Avengers film, it was a junior agent who tricked Dr. Banner into meeting Natasha Romanoff during the team's assembly phase.

Of course, that hadn't happened yet, and Mr. Hall couldn't use it as an example. Instead, he described other real tasks that junior agents had completed, filling Pietro with enthusiasm and a yearning to join right away.

When Mr. Hall finished his stories, he sighed thoughtfully.

"So you see, SHIELD has always been using children for morally questionable operations. They are evil, and HYDRA has the noble mission of bringing them down."

"I understand!" Pietro said passionately, his blood boiling with fervor. "I'll complete HYDRA's mission and make junior agents serve justice!"

"With that resolve, I can rest easy," Mr. Hall said with a smile, closing the topic.

---

Shortly thereafter, they arrived at Midtown School.

Mr. Hall escorted the three children to the principal's office to finalize their enrollment. Their classes had been assigned already.

Pietro and Wanda, being younger, were placed in the first year of middle school. Bruce, a year older, was placed in the second year.

"I'll pick you up after school," Mr. Hall said after completing the paperwork. "Have a great first day!"

And with that, he left.

The three kids were soon taken to their respective classrooms by their new teachers.

Bruce's homeroom teacher was a middle-aged woman in her forties, slightly plump, with gold-rimmed glasses that lent her a mix of warmth and authority.

"You're Bruce Wayne, correct?"

She smiled kindly. "I'm your homeroom teacher. You can call me Ms. Winnie. Let me take you to the class."

Bruce nodded, following her.

As they approached the classroom, the sound of lively chatter filtered through the hallway.

The moment Ms. Winnie stepped inside, however, the noise abruptly ceased.

"I could hear you all the way from the hallway," she said sternly, her face devoid of its earlier warmth. "This is the noisiest class on the floor. Care to explain why?"

No one dared respond. The students kept their heads down, avoiding eye contact.

Ms. Winnie stood in the doorway for a few moments, letting the silence sink in before clearing her throat. She didn't pursue the matter further.

The cough seemed to signal a release, and the students began to relax, cautiously lifting their heads.

"We have a new student joining us today," Ms. Winnie announced, motioning toward Bruce. "Come in, Bruce!"

Bruce stepped inside, drawing immediate whispers from his classmates.

After writing his name on the blackboard, Bruce gave a brief self-introduction.

"You can sit over there," Ms. Winnie said, pointing to a seat by the window, second from the back.

Under the watchful gazes of his classmates, Bruce walked over and sat down, keeping to himself without making eye contact with anyone. He seemed like a typical shy boy.

"Alright, let's begin the lesson," Ms. Winnie declared, shifting the focus away from Bruce.

Seated next to Bruce was a slightly frail-looking boy who leaned over to introduce himself.

"You're Bruce, right? I'm Peter Parker!"

"Hello, Peter Parker," Bruce replied without looking at him, keeping his eyes on the blackboard.

"So, where'd you transfer from? I mean, why choose our school? It's not that great."

"It was my family's decision," Bruce said simply. "Since they're paying, I just go along with it."

"Ah, I see."

Peter nodded as if everything made sense, but he didn't realize Bruce hadn't really answered him.

Peter seemed oblivious to Bruce's indifference and, surprisingly, grew even more enthusiastic about making friends. Even when Bruce responded curtly, Peter kept talking.

Soon, the conversation veered toward dreams.

"I want to be a photographer," Peter said. "I've been saving up for a camera. If I can, I want to capture beautiful moments."

As he spoke, his gaze drifted to a blonde girl sitting a few rows ahead.

Bruce had noticed her earlier, too. She was undeniably beautiful—it was easy to see why Peter found her enchanting.

"Her name's Gwen—Gwen Stacy," Peter said, unprompted. "She's the smartest and prettiest girl in class. We've been best friends since we were kids..."

Bruce suddenly interrupted, "So you like her?"

"Like her? No, I don't—" Peter stammered, flustered. "We're just friends. I don't think about her that way..."

Coward, Bruce thought, amused.

"But when you mentioned capturing beautiful moments, you looked at her," Bruce countered. "Doesn't that mean she's the most beautiful thing in your eyes?"

"That's your imagination!" Peter protested, visibly panicking. "I wasn't talking about her. I was thinking of superheroes—like Captain America!"

The iconic World War II hero was universally admired, his deeds immortalized in comics and movies. He was the gold standard for heroism in this world.

At that moment, a voice echoed in Bruce's mind.

It was Kathoom.

The tone was languid, almost indulgent, punctuated by a contented belch.

Bruce couldn't help but wonder how Kathoom had managed to feast so well in the Middle East.

"By the way, I remembered something," Kathoom said. "Peter Parker isn't just anyone. He's Spider-Man—a future superhero."

Another one? Bruce mused. Are superheroes this common in this world? Pietro, Wanda, Peter...

It felt like everywhere he turned, there was another one.

"Peter Parker might be Spider-Man, but his life's pretty rough," Kathoom continued. "He's so broke that he has to sell photos of himself as Spider-Man to a newspaper just to get by."

The more Kathoom thought about it, the stranger it seemed.

"So basically, Spider-Man... was the original welfare streamer?"