Martin Variety in American Comics

Martin turned over in his sleepy eyes, and his arm hit something hard, and he woke up with a start.

He saw the vase on the bedside was about to fall, and he reached out to catch the vase like lightning, straightened it and put it back on the table.

Touch the face.

Well, soft, fleshy, wearing glasses, and all the facial features are there. It seems that I am still a person today, not a different race.

"I hope nothing weird will come to me today."

Martin stretched and got up from the bed, but found that his room was filled with all kinds of antiques.

Screens with pictures of ladies, various blue and white porcelain bottles, small bronze tripods with burning sandalwood...

Of course, the most eye-catching thing is the large bookshelf that almost hits the ceiling, which is filled with all kinds of books.

Martin changed into a blue sweater and jeans, made a few hand seals commonly used in Taoism with his hands, and recited a few spells commonly used in magic, but there was no response.

Then he extended his index finger and pressed it on the spine of one of the rows of books, gently swiping it, making a clacking sound.

These books are in Chinese and English, most of them are professional books on history and cultural relics, and the remaining small part talks about the chemical knowledge and construction mechanics required for the identification of cultural relics.

"Archaeologist! In this world, this profession is not safe."

Martin randomly picked up a book, quickly flipped through the pages, and read the contents.

Jackie Chan had the support of his father, the great wizard, and later became a consultant for District 13.

Nathan Drake's mother was an outstanding historian, and later she got involved in the underworld.

Lara Croft is directly a British aristocrat. Not only does she have a title, but she also has a lot of property under her name.

It can be seen that archaeologists or historians are a profession that is highly dependent on the sponsor.

Martin now has the support of Bruce, so it is not a problem to do research anywhere.

"But I don't want to go anywhere today."

After several days of non-stop fighting, he wanted to take a day off, read a book, identify antiques, and then go to bed peacefully.

Close the book and put it back on the bookshelf.

Martin walked out of the bedroom. The living room and kitchen were gone. Only a large house similar to the reception desk of an antique shop remained. The decoration style was simple and rustic. For Americans, it was very oriental.

Almost all the items in the front hall were fakes, and there was nothing real.

He glanced at it and ignored it. He walked out of the store directly and turned his head to look at the sign hanging on the door. The five gold-plated characters "Martin Antique Shop" on it were shining in the sun.

"After so many days of hard work, the sun in this ghost city finally came out."

The sky of Gotham was blue and clear. There was not even a cloud in sight. The big sun shone brightly on Gotham, making the gargoyles lying on the rooftops wilt a lot.

"It's not advisable to open today, it's better to close. It's a good day to rest."

Martin took out the sign of closing the business and was about to hang it on the door.

"Which almanac did you look at? There is such a taboo?"

Bruce's voice came from behind. Martin turned his head first, and then turned around.

He did not appear as Batman today. He wore a gray suit inside and a black coat outside. He had a brown and yellow plaid scarf on his neck. His sturdy body made him look more stylish than the male models on magazine covers.

"I write the almanac and I have the final say!"

Martin answered his question willfully and hung the sign on the door directly.

"Why do you come to me instead of healing Gotham's wounds?"

"Of course I'm here to ask for your help."

Bruce grabbed Martin's shoulders and pushed him into the store, looking like a rogue.

"Damn, you really treat me as free labor."

Martin broke free from Bruce's hand, rolled his eyes, and complained: "I won't mention how much trouble I have solved for you in the past seven days. Just last night, I consumed a whole moon to make the whole Gotham fall asleep. In order to protect those hundreds of thousands of people, my flame of sin can only be left in the shadow kingdom."

"I haven't settled the account with you yet, and you dare to come to me? I have never seen such a shameless person as you."

Bruce covered Martin's mouth, pushed him into the store, locked the door, and bowed to Martin with his hands together:

"I thank you, thank you for saving the lives of hundreds of thousands of people, and thank you for preventing the destruction of Gotham."

"Stop talking nonsense, what's the point of saying these nice-sounding but useless clichés."

Martin grabbed Bruce's wrist, twisted it outward, got out of his control, jumped back, and pulled the distance between them.

Bruce was not a stingy person, and he promised repeatedly: "Whatever reward you want, just tell me, and I will satisfy you."

Martin waved his hand: "Forget it, you don't have what I want, and you can't find it or make it."

"Sit down first. I'll find the portraits that passed through the Shadow Kingdom first, and pick a few reliable and capable people for you, so that you don't continue to disturb my vacation."

Martin walked to the pile of debris that almost reached the ceiling, and began to look for the portrait among these old things of unknown value.

Crash!

He just pulled out a wooden sculpture, and the mountain of debris collapsed directly, and all the messy things slid down, almost burying Martin.

Bruce supported him, and seeing the debris all over the floor, he couldn't help asking: "Why did your home become like this?"

"It's nothing strange. My home sometimes changes shape. It may become an airplane or a temple... But this change will only happen when I am alone."

Martin answered Bruce's question and left the useless debris aside, and then slowly analyzed what it was.

No mistakes in one post, one content, one 6, one 9, one book, one bar!

But the portrait was not found, but a steel warhorse was found.

"Tiying? You didn't disappear!"

Martin looked at the horse standing up from the debris, nine points or even ten points of surprise.

Tiying is now wearing pure white armor, which is very different from the way he stepped on the flames yesterday, but there is a high-tech psychedelic feeling.

He threw the shadow portrait in his mouth in front of Martin, let out a proud cry, then lowered his head and put his face together with Martin's.

"Thank you."

Martin put one hand around Tiying's head, put his face together, then picked up the portrait and slapped it on the table.

"Here, take it!"

He drew a few runes on the portrait, and the thick curtain opened, revealing a steel island isolated in the shadow kingdom.

He casually swiped his fingers a few times, and the picture zoomed in and out, and he could see the appearance of each person accurately.

"This is a good trick."

Bruce had learned a few tricks, but the magic used by Martin was very different from what he had seen.

"Remember these runes, as long as you can draw them, you can use them."

Martin clapped his hands, and the shadow dissipated, turning back into an ordinary picture.

"Take this thing and go."

Martin stuffed the painting into Bruce's hand and pushed him out of his shop: "Even slave owners know that they can't squeeze slaves dry all at once. You want me to help, no problem, let them rest for a few days first."

Martin knew that what Bruce wanted to talk to him about was the big question of where Gotham should go in the future.

But he didn't want to participate. This was thousands of times more difficult than what he did last night.

The most important thing was that the time had not come yet.

If Bruce had settled the hundreds of thousands of robots in the shadow kingdom, Martin wouldn't mind giving him advice.

But forget it now.

Bruce did not resist, nor did he force Martin, but just said: "Let alone a few days, even tomorrow, who knows where you will go."

The two pushed and shoved out of the store, and saw a middle-aged white elite with gold-rimmed glasses and gray hair standing at the door.

He pushed his glasses, walked up to Martin, and asked: "Mr. Martin, are you not ready yet?"

I will continue to update five times today, come on!

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