Chapter 16
Birdie's wings flared in surprise, he stopped watching the television. He tilted his head to look at him, then at the dark coffee. Birdie picked up a boiled chickpea with his beak and placed it on Colt's plate, then used his wings to pat the hand Colt was using to hold his fork.
Eat your food.
Colt didn't move, the bitterness in his mouth fading, replaced by a hint of sweetness.
It didn't seem that bad.
Seeing that he wouldn't eat the chickpeas, Birdie brought him a kernel of corn, then a sunflower seed, finally looked toward the jar of mealworms.
Colt ate the beans, corn, sunflower seeds the Birdie brought him before it could pry open the mealworm jar. Then he picked up his coffee again and swallowed it in large gulps with his eyes closed.
*Hiss*
The thick liquid rushed down his throat like medicine; even though he tried to minimize the contact between the coffee and the tip of his tongue, a strong bitterness still exploded in his mouth and lingered for a long time.
Colt shuddered, his expression contorting.
The black coffee had a rich, full-bodied taste with a certain oiliness, smooth like chocolate, but it was truly, incredibly bitter. Even if there was a sweet aftertaste, it was enough to scare off anyone—except for Timothy Drake, whose taste buds had mutated.
..
Coffee has no magical properties! It is just a cup of pure coffee, just with a higher caffeine content that leaves you feeling hyperactive!
Colt couldn't sleep. He checked the operation of the Earth Simulator, seeing that Gotham's prosperity had reached 73, then he took apart his skateboard and reassembled it, tested the power limits of the Arc Reactor, flew through the skies of Gotham, practiced accelerating, sudden stops, rolls, weaving through obstacles..
Gotham was as bustling as ever tonight; Batman was busy patrolling Arkham, Red Hood was busy kicking Penguin's ass, Red Robin was busy crawling through the sewers of Crime Alley, Jester and Orphan were busy hunting Kite Man.
Colt didn't see Red Robin.
.
Time rewinds to a few hours ago, in the dining room of Wayne Manor, where everyone was engaged in a chaotic battle over after-dinner desserts.
As Colt took his first sip of coffee, Timothy suddenly suffered a violent headache, as if someone were hammering inside his head with a chisel.
Timothy thought it was just a nerve pain and didn't pay much attention to it. But in the next moment, just as he grabbed Damian's white chocolate cranberry muffin, his vision suddenly went black, he lost consciousness instantly.
“.. Stupid Drake.. Drake!” Damian screamed, “Father! Drake has dropped dead!”
Quiet.
Everyone remained frozen in the middle of their scuffle, turning their heads to look at Timothy as he slid off Damian. Bruce, who hadn't joined in the cookie war, climbed over the table to check on Timothy.
Timothy snapped his eyes open and gave Bruce a smile.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and continued the battle.
“You're so weak, you little demon, actually getting fooled by Timmy,” Stephanie laughed.
Damian frowned. As the young master of the League of Assassins, he had been trained as a weapon since childhood and could distinguish between the living and the dead. Timothy's life signs had plummeted for a moment just now, he hadn't even been able to feel the other's heartbeat; his current normal appearance was just an act!
Bruce looked at Damian, then at Timothy: "Tim, you're staying home tonight."
Hi, Bruce, I just had a physical at Titans Headquarters yesterday. I don't believe you didn't sneak a peek at my medical report." Timothy met Bruce's gaze and sighed, "Fine, I'm not going on patrol tonight.
He got up expressionlessly, paused at the foot of the stairs, waved without looking back, "I've already locked onto Kite Man's location; I'll send it to you all in a moment. Whoever is free, go catch him."
I'll go with Cassandra," Stephanie raised her hand, tilting her head toward Bruce. "Wow, Timmy is angry. He slept all afternoon at school; he was just joking just now, you shouldn't stop him from doing night patrol.
Bruce watched Timothy's retreating figure without saying a word.
Bruce knew his child; Timothy's expression looked flawless, yet his heartbeat and pulse were abnormally fast.
He was enduring something, not wanting his family to find out.
Yes, after a brief pause, Timothy's heart began to beat as fast as a drum.
As the sharp pain and dizziness faded, many slideshows appeared in his mind, countless images surging from the void. If he hadn't had experience with auditory and visual hallucinations and hadn't been skilled at handling such unexpected occurrences, he would have almost exposed himself right under his family's noses.
Bruce always liked to take all the problems upon himself; once he discovered any abnormality in him, he would demand that he stop his vigilante work and subject him to rigorous examinations. The little demon brat was still just a child and didn't want him dead as much as it seemed. Stephanie and Cassandra were about to leave Gotham to attend school elsewhere, he couldn't let them be worried..
Timothy could no longer see anything.
He maintained a normal pace according to his memory as he returned to the room, only relaxing his tense nerves once he had closed the door.
His brain felt like a compressed file being forcibly decompressed; with insufficient memory, the images released were extremely blurry, the videos were stuttering due to insufficient cache.
Timothy clutched his throbbing head, sliding slowly down against the door as he bit his lip to stifle a groan.
Buzz
It felt as if a hundred cicadas were buzzing in his mind all at once. Something shattered, blurred images became clear.
Timothy saw Colt.
Colt, five or six years old.
Timothy was a bit withdrawn when he was young, always feeling that his peers were too foolish; he didn't make any friends throughout his entire time in kindergarten. He didn't care, as he enjoyed reading books quietly by himself, until a new transfer student reached out a hand to him.
Hi, Drake Duck.
Detective, call me Detective Drake.
There's a kind of duck called Cole Duck. I'm Cole, you're a duck, that's fate. Hello, Detective Duck. I'm going to be the President of the United States when I grow up, so you can call me Mr. President!
Colt Reed, a genius who could solve calculus problems at the age of six, grabbed his hand to force a friendship the very first time they met. They did group projects together, organized classmates to get revenge on teachers together, got their parents called in together, went on night excursions to follow Batman together..
That beautiful child named Colt was cocky and arrogant, his head full of wild ideas, his motto was: just wait until I become President..
Once he becomes president, he'll appoint Timothy Drake as the Director of the FBI, Bruce Wayne as Vice President, Red Robin as Secretary of State, Superman as Secretary of Defense, Stark as Secretary of the Treasury, Gordon as Attorney General, Lucius as Secretary of the Interior..
Why wasn't Batman included?
Because they all know that Batman is Bruce Wayne.
They managed to get a photo of Batman for you, while I only got a photo of Red Robin, we fought three times. Then they signed a peace treaty, agreeing that no matter whose photo it was, two copies would be printed, only then did our friendship return.
Yes, the photos.
He has many photos.
Timothy rubbed his face with both hands, got up, sent the intel on Kite Man to Stephanie, then grabbed his keys and drove back to the Drake manor.
Drake Manor.
Timothy rarely came home. Although he hired cleaners to tidy the rooms periodically, the house lacked a sense of life, exuding a dark and stale atmosphere. He pushed open the small door to the attic, coughing incessantly from the swirling dust.
Timothy bit his lip as he dragged a locked child's suitcase from the depths of the attic.
This was the suitcase he used before he was nine years old. That accident nine years ago caused him to forget Colt, this suitcase had also been tucked away because it was far too childish.
The dust cover was lifted, revealing the custom-made shaped suitcase inside. It was a bright, lively yellow, shaped like a Cole Duck, with a small, crudely handmade oak pipe stuck in its flat red beak—a handicraft project from Colt's second grade.
Memories are like suitcases kept high on a shelf; they are dragged out from the darkness, dusted off, brought back into the light.
Timothy dragged the suitcase out of the attic, looked at the six-digit combination lock, scrolled the numbers to [716719].
Click, the lock opened.
716 is Colt's birthday, 719 is Timothy's birthday. Because of the three-day age difference, Colt always says he is the older brother, meaning he handles the heavy lifting while the younger brother takes the blame.
Timothy shook his head, clearing the voices that surfaced in his mind, opened the suitcase.
The suitcase contained a collection of strange, miscellaneous items.
Handcrafted leaf art, smooth stones, pen-made launchers, toothpick bows and arrows, Batmobile nuts in evidence bags, broken Batarangs, flattened Batman candy wrappers, Batman lollipop sticks, a Robin cosplay outfit..
There was also a camera and a thick photo album, the cover of which featured a photo of two boys together.
It was originally supposed to be a photo of the two of them, but now only one person can be seen; the child on the left seemed to have cast a spell of vanishing, appearing only in Timothy's mind, invisible to the naked eye.
They were wearing little suits, both appearing to be about eight or nine years old, wearing amusement park animal ear headbands, each holding a Bat balloon and smiling at the camera. The black-haired, blue-eyed boy wore black cat ears and smiled with restrained lips; the silver-haired boy wore white dog ears, his smile bright, his violet eyes squeezed into crescents, looking exactly like a Samoyed.
Timothy stroked the photo of the person who was now alone, then flipped through the photo album. As expected, Colt had disappeared from all the photos.
Colt's signature had vanished, but the drawings he made had not completely disappeared.
Timothy picked up the camera and found the drawing of Cole Duck that Colt had made on the inside of the camera.
Timothy sat on the dusty floor, looking at the group photo with one person missing, mindlessly fiddling with the camera as he recalled the incident from nine years ago.
It was the third-grade school anniversary ceremony; he was supposed to perform a piano duet with Colt, but Colt turned and ran away just before they were meant to take the stage. He tried to stop him, but Colt only spoke strange things to him.
Colt had been strange since he was a child, easily attracting peculiar people and liking to say all sorts of strange things. One moment he would claim to be an omnipotent god, the next he would claim to be a Mutant who could foresee the future, then he would claim to be a high-dimensional observer capable of seeing everyone's destiny.
Timothy would nod in agreement every time: "Right, right, right, I'm a Mutant too. My mutant power is super reconnaissance. Mhmm, so in your eyes, our world is a book—does that mean I've become the world's number one detective within this book?"
Once, Timothy thought Colt was just being fanciful.
Now, Timothy had encountered Bat Mite and knew that, in the eyes of higher-dimensional beings, the world was truly nothing more than a comic book.
Colt knows everyone's identity.
Colt knew Batman's secret identity, when faced with danger, he would dare to grab a horse's leg and call it daddy; Colt knew Jason would become the second Robin, so even though he was warned not to approach the street urchins in Crime Alley, he still used clothes, food, supermarket vouchers to hire Jason; Colt knew he would become Robin, so during Halloween, he insisted on adding a Robin Cape to his detective costume.
Their friendship came from Colt's intentional approach.
How it all began no longer mattered; what mattered was the journey. He had promised Colt that no matter what happened in the future, they would never forget each other when they finally made it big.
But he had forgotten, the whole world had forgotten, the boy who said he would grow up to change Gotham.
Author's Note:
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Chapter 17
Timothy returned to Wayne Manor, dragging his suitcase.
Everyone had gone on patrol, leaving Alfred in the Batcave to provide logistical support; the manor was very quiet.
Timothy climbed up the watchtower.
Wayne Manor is situated on high ground, offering a view over most of Gotham. Timothy saw Colt, that speck of white against the Batwing, looking like a tiny firefly.
What exactly happened back then? Why did he forget? And why did he remember again? Was Colt calling out to him for help? He suddenly saw Colt, only to realize he had received a blessing from the Dream God, Colt cared very much about his sleep; before his memory returned, he had just slept through the entire afternoon and had a wonderful dream.
Timothy believed there was definitely a connection, but he wouldn't go to confront Colt.
Colt is an arrogant and crazy guy, always ready to save the world.
The freshmen sent the principal to prison with their classmates; the sophomores used ballpoint pens to make makeshift bows and arrows to blind thugs during armed robberies; and by their junior year, they were already daring enough to use tranquilizer darts to knock out the Mad Hatter, rescuing upperclassmen girls who were nearly kidnapped by him.