In The DC World With Marvel Chat Group

Sitting inside the Bat Wing, Arthur looked out of the small window beside him. After a while, he noticed something amiss. "Is this plane flying a bit too fast?"

"Have you ever been on another plane?" Schiller inquired.

"No, but the planes landing in Gotham fly over Brooklyn's seascape, and I occasionally get a glimpse of them. I feel they definitely don't fly this fast."

"That's because I'm a skilled pilot!" Hal shouted from the cockpit ahead. Schiller shook his head, remarking, "Don't listen to him. The planes you see are about to land, so they're slower. Normally flying planes aren't that slow. This is a standard speed."

Arthur nodded, half understanding. Meanwhile, Schiller got up and walked over to the cabin's refrigerator, looking for something to eat. Although the fish soup had been delectable, Schiller, who wasn't fond of grilled fish or fish broth, hadn't eaten much for dinner and was now somewhat hungry.

Looking up, Arthur curiously examined the plane's interior. "This is my first time on a plane. My classmates would never believe I could fly so high."

"And this plane is rather luxurious, isn't it?" Arthur added, briefly standing before sitting back down to test the softness of the sofa cushion. "The sofa at my house isn't this soft. Also, did I spot a bed when I came in?"

Indeed, the Bat Wing's entire cabin looked like a condensed version of a luxury private jet, complete with a sofa, table, chairs, fridge, and bed.

At that moment, Hal emerged from the cockpit, stretching and yawning, "Gosh, it's already past midnight. I should be in bed. Oh well, I'll take a nap now."

"Oh, there's the bed," Arthur pointed at the nearby bed. Suddenly, he looked at Hal in horror, "Why are you here? Weren't you piloting the plane?!"

Hal dismissively waved, "The plane can fly on autopilot. I just set the destination, and it will automatically get there. When it's time to land, we'll contact the control tower."

Arthur was even more stunned. But Hal, tightening his jacket, crashed onto the bed and quickly began snoring, clearly exhausted.

Schiller could guess the reason for Hal's fatigue without being told. It was likely due to a skirmish with Clark.

Originally, Schiller had assumed that the Green Lantern and Superman would get along well. However, in reality, their philosophies differed. Being nearly equal in strength, their occasional spats would send them rocketing out of the Solar System.

Even though the Green Lantern's energy could regenerate, mental fatigue wasn't so easily restored. Just a few hours before piloting the plane for Schiller, Hal had returned from Pluto after barely losing a fight against Clark.

Opening the fridge, Schiller found it well-stocked, likely courtesy of Alfred, the ever-efficient butler. Everything was neatly arranged in the modest-sized refrigerator. The freezer contained prepared beef, salmon, tuna, and lamb chops, while the cooler held an array of fresh vegetables suitable for salads or sandwiches. There were also gourmet canned goods, clearly not your average store-bought variety.

The corn kernels, cherry tomatoes, and beans looked exceptionally fresh, likely harvested just that day. The fridge also stored butter, light cream, and several cheeses, including a tempting block of cheddar.

Considering it was late, Schiller decided on something light. He made a vegetable salad with lettuce, cabbage, and tomatoes, pan-fried two pieces of salmon in olive oil, and prepared two cheeseless beef sandwiches.

The plane even had a mini-kitchen. While limited to a fixed griddle and prep table, it sufficed for simple meals.

Once the food was served, Arthur's eyes widened in amazement. Unable to resist the aroma of grilled beef, he grabbed a sandwich and took a huge bite. Schiller also sampled the sandwich, reflecting on how luxurious life with money could be. Even thinly sliced, the beef was tender and juicy.

Arthur, who hadn't tasted such high-quality beef before, devoured his sandwich quickly. However, when it came to the salmon, he hesitated. After a single bite, he set down his fork. Schiller looked at him inquiringly, "What's wrong? I thought you liked fish?"

"This salmon doesn't taste fresh. Was it previously frozen?" Arthur asked.

Schiller nodded in agreement. Arthur explained, "I prefer fresh salmon, especially raw slices. Instead of the typical wasabi, I enjoy it with a unique Brooklyn Fisherman spicy sauce. It's irresistibly flavorful."

"I'll have to try it if I get the chance," Schiller responded, taking a bite of the salmon. Maybe it was a psychological effect, but he too found it less appealing.

Later, the aroma of cooking awakened Hal. However, by the time he got up, the two had already finished their late-night meal. With no choice, he headed to the fridge to prepare something for himself.

"When it comes to preparing seafood, you all are amateurs," Hal commented while working at the kitchen counter. "Which is the most famous Coastal City in the world? It's my hometown, Coastal City. It's the best seaside tourist destination worldwide…"

"Nonsense, Brooklyn is the best…" Arthur countered, though his tone lacked conviction. Indeed, what Hal said was true. Coastal City could be described as a luxury version of Brooklyn, towering over the latter in stature and prestige.

It's a truly globalized tourist hub, renowned for its food, scenic views, and rich culture, all of which are world-class. It also boasts the longest and purest coastline on the West Coast. The city itself is vast, with top-notch amenities, and its tourism development is at the forefront in the U.S.

"It's been ages since I've been back to California," Hal mused while slicing beef. "The name has become somewhat unfamiliar to me. If you ever go to the West Coast, you'll realize it's nothing like the East Coast."

"It's more laid-back, romantic, and atmospheric there. Whether it's the beaches or the deserts, the people or the landscapes, everything is simply the best."

"You're from California?" Arthur inquired, genuinely surprised. He'd mistakenly thought Coastal City was on the East Coast.

"Of course. I was quite surprised when I heard Schiller was going to California. But I must say, you've made an excellent decision. Back home, they say that if you have more than 10 days off, you must visit Coastal City. Otherwise, you're wasting your vacation."

Whenever Hal spoke of his hometown, his passion was evident. It was clear he missed it even more than Arthur missed his. "Back in the day, the West Coast wasn't as developed. People always thought of Los Angeles when mentioning it."

"But after the Gold Rush, people realized that apart from Los Angeles, there's another gem on the West Coast – my hometown, Coastal City. With its beautiful coastline, sunshine, palm trees, and beaches."

"The cuisine there rivals even that of Los Angeles. Once we land, I must take you to my favorite, Tatkin Restaurant. Their sea bass dish is so delicious you might swallow your own tongue."

Having said that, Hal served the freshly pan-seared beef chunks and simmered bean soup he had prepared. He took two toasted slices, added cheese, sandwiched the beef and beans in between, and took a hearty bite.

"That's an unusual way to eat. Is it a Coastal City specialty?" Schiller inquired.

"Sort of. I prefer to call it the 'Pilot's Meal'. The pilots back home love it. The beef and bean toast is easy to store, and it tastes good. Give it a try."

Schiller sampled the bean soup, finding it tasty albeit a bit bland. But considering a pilot's need for a balanced diet without excessive oil or salt, it was perfect.

After their meal, the trio dozed off on the sofa. The city lights outside the airplane window blurred into an orange-red haze, like a paint splash on the deep blue canvas of the starry sky.

When Schiller opened his eyes, the city was close by. Hal was nowhere in sight, but a peek into the cockpit revealed him piloting the plane, signaling they were about to land.

Arthur was right; their aircraft, the Bat Wing, was much faster than regular commercial planes. In no time, Schiller could see the control tower lights. As they touched down, Schiller started clapping.

Emerging from the cockpit, Hal looked puzzled. "Why the applause? I didn't do anything special."

"It's precisely because you didn't do anything out of the ordinary," Schiller responded.

Exiting the aircraft, Schiller was hit by a wave of heat. Though it was only April, Coastal City's lower latitude meant it was already quite warm.

Just as Schiller alighted, he overheard the tower staff gossiping, "Who's this rich person turning their private jet into such a bizarre design? I've seen tiger and lion themes but never a bat."

"People have varied tastes. Some like tigers, some lions. Why not bats?" another countered.

Overhearing them, Hal whispered to Schiller, "That's truly bizarre."

Schiller shot back, "What's bizarre is not the bat but the person disguised as one."

At this point, trailing behind them, Arthur took a deep breath and remarked, "Let's move. I can already smell the ocean in the breeze."