Timothy suddenly turned his head toward Colt and gave a wink with his left eye.
What do you mean? I was just checking my camera, not waiting for you!
Colt pressed the shutter, made a gesture indicating he had to take a call, then swerved on his skateboard, leaving without looking back.
He had definitely been assimilated by Gotham, actually wanting to drive Superman out of Gotham; it was as if a voice in his head was screaming: Get that Kryptonian away from Gotham!
Regional discrimination is unacceptable; the public security in Metropolis is much better than in Gotham.
There were two consecutive biology classes this afternoon, but the Biology Teacher was taken away by the GCPD for investigation, so the classes were canceled.
Colt rushed home to prepare bird food.
Birdie's molting period was over, he had finally regained some vitality. He was currently leading a group of little birds in the living room to watch television and eat snacks, while an intelligent robot vacuum moved back and forth, busy cleaning up the mess they made.
As soon as Colt entered the door, the birds flew out the window in a flurry, with a few hitting the glass and crashing haphazardly into the lawn outside.
Colt stood by the window and watched for a while; those birds soon flew up and landed on the large oak tree, chirping with their friends.
It wasn't damaged.
Birdie flew onto Colt's shoulder, rubbing its fluffy head against his cheek and chirping softly.
Colt also tilted his head and rubbed his cheek against the bird.
He didn't mind if the house bird brought friends over to play; those little guys wouldn't mess up the sofa or curtains anymore, they knew to leave their "souvenirs" on the floor, which the modified smart vacuum could clean up and deodorize.
Colt liked having sounds in the house.
Without a chatty father around, the house was terrifyingly quiet.
Colt observed the few small bird souvenirs left on the ground, changed the birdseed in the automatic feeder on the windowsill, checked that the ultrasonic device used to repel squirrels, feral cats, other avian predators was still working normally, then refilled Birdie's automatic snack machine with grain and dried insects.
He was used to these things and didn't find them annoying; instead, they helped him feel more at peace.
The basement.
Colt pulled up the design blueprints for the skateboard, adding a two-person mode and recalculating the shield strength for the high-speed flight mode..
The new design was finalized and loaded into the Quantum Superbrain to allow the program to conduct preliminary testing on the skateboard's performance.
Colt stretched and opened a drink he had bought at school to quench his thirst.
He rarely drank sodas, always finding them too sharp on his tongue. This time was even worse; after just one sip, his head began to spin.
No, it wasn't dizziness; it was a sudden surge of mental power, causing fluctuations in his sea of consciousness.
This is a detoxification reaction!
Colt pressed his forehead and checked the drink in his hand.
Green Elf, the energy drink being heavily promoted by all vending machines this new semester, is even more popular than cola. It is a new product under the Caplo Family, a prominent local clan in Gotham, its ingredient list looks quite normal.
Colt calmed his mental fluctuations and took another sip of Green Elf.
Just as he swallowed the drink, ripples once again surfaced in his mental sea.
It was indeed an abnormal ripple that only occurs during detoxification; there's something wrong with the drink!
Chapter 24
There are testing instruments in the basement.
Colt extracted a beverage sample and tested its components.
Caffeine, guarana, taurine, B vitamins, vitamin C, sodium, potassium, beta-alanine.. these elements only stimulate the nervous system to cause hyper-excitability; they do not activate the spirit's automatic detoxification response.
Even though energy drinks are essentially legal stimulants, Green Elf went way too heavy on the ingredients!
The atmosphere on campus has been tense this semester; the students are like gunpowder kegs ready to explode at the slightest spark. That is likely where the problem lies.
It wasn't that Colt was whitewashing his classmate. The general quality of Gothamites was indeed quite low, the chunibyo Gothamites especially were practically itching to pick a fight with the heavens, the earth, even the air itself. But high schoolers' minds hadn't been polluted into black sludge by the filthy society just yet; they weren't hopeless villains. At least, not right now.
Normally, when a tragedy occurs on a football team, the general sentiment should be one of indignation and grief, school opinion should actively mourn the deceased and condemn the perpetrator.
Instead, everyone had become indifferent and selfish, devoid of any compassion, even engaging in murder worship, as if they were itching to pick up a gun and shoot their teachers and classmates.
That being said, rather than relying on testing equipment, Colt trusted his own mental strength more.
While searching for more professional compound toxin test strips, Colt sent a message to Duck Detective on his phone: 【Tim, did you drink the beverage? 】
Duck Detective: 【Tastes good (*￣￣)】
Colt set aside any hope of luck and, while waiting for the test strip to show results, took another sip of Green Elf.
His mental power transformed into a tracking super-microscope, focusing on his own cellular reactions.
It's not a toxin, it's a microbial parasite used to control the brain!
Colt jumped up.
With Green Elf's sales being so high, Gotham is going to be in big trouble!
Colt: [Where are you?]
Duck Detective: 【Company (A photo of a coffee cup on a desk)】
Timothy handed the signed documents to the secretary.
He just bought Oak Tree Manor.
Yes, the entire residential community belonging to the Colt family.
It didn't cost much. The residential area had been designated as a danger zone by the authorities, the owners of the ruins were eager to shake off this burden. As soon as they heard the asking price, they urged him to sign the contract; after all, as long as the houses remained, they would still be taxed even if they were vacant. In fact, Bruce had long since purchased those houses that had been confiscated by the government; Timothy only needed to buy five properties on the outskirts of the community.
If Timothy could steal a Batmobile from the Batarang budget back then, transferring a few abandoned houses from Bruce's countless properties would be even easier now.
Timothy opened the company's financial statements to see which budget could fund a safehouse equipped with a high-end laboratory.
He was most familiar with the Research and Development Department.
Half of the budget for Batman's equipment comes from here, with a quarter charged to Bruce's dating expenses, the remaining quarter charged to Batman's rescue fees.
When Timothy didn't want to handle the books, he would also hire Red Robin as a bodyguard at a high price. But more often than not, he preferred to manipulate the budget at Wayne.
Dr. Reed always manages to produce new results; even if he added a zero to the budget, the board of directors would sign off on it with their eyes closed. Moreover, Dr. Reed is an insider who would help cover for him during financial audits.
Unfortunately, a large particle collider is not easy to hide; otherwise, if he were given a little time, he could have cooked up a budget for it.
Timothy had included the budget for his new safehouse in the financial statements as if he were showing off. Just as he was about to pick up his coffee, his hand was suddenly grabbed, he was pulled into a sudden, quiet space, hearing only the heavy breathing of the person who had approached him.
Colt," Timothy turned, seeing Colt's expression, his rising tone dropping. "What happened?
Perhaps because he was used to being alone, Colt's expressions were rarely visible, but now he was frowning, his clear eyes filled with panic.
"Take a deep breath, I'm here. Any problem can be solved." Timothy's tone was steady and his expression calm, making him look incredibly reliable.
Colt opened his mouth, but no sound came from his throat.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, let go of Timothy, slapping the lab report and the two-striped test strips onto the table, along with the Green Elf drink can inside a sealed bag.
Tim calmly finished reading the lab report and picked up the composite toxin test strips produced by Wayne. These were Bat-exclusive strips containing Kryptonian technology, specifically designed for supervillains to detect extraterrestrial substances.
"You found a problem with the drink, but conventional instruments can't detect it?" Timothy asked.
Colt nodded, only after writing the last letter did he hold the notepad up in front of Timothy.
[Unknown active microorganism that affects mental strength; once infected, it can send commands instead of the brain. I suspect there is a microbial mother organism capable of controlling all sub-organisms.]
He only wrote his suspicions, but his eyes were full of certainty.
I know. Relax, Gotham has the most complete Bat Family right now; they will resolve every crisis, including this one.
Timothy patted Colt's shoulder reassuringly and began to take action.
First, all beverages on the market need to be tested. Random inspections should be conducted by brand and region; perhaps Green Elf isn't the only one with problems.
Then, find a reason to arrange medical checkups for the school's faculty and students.
As well as analyzing the unknown active microorganisms to develop an antidote as quickly as possible.
Of course, the most important thing is still to find the mastermind behind it all and solve the problem at its source.
..
Timothy issued orders methodically, just like Red Robin without his cape.
Oh, he was Red Robin to begin with.
Colt calmed down.
The reason heroes are heroes lies not in the uniforms they wear, but in the souls beneath those uniforms, in the steadfast will they possess to take responsibility when facing a crisis.
Even though Timothy had also consumed the tainted beverage, his first thought was not whether he had been poisoned, but how to solve the problem.
Timothy arranged everything task by task, then looked over at Colt, who was staring blankly while holding a skateboard.
Thank you for the reminder, allowing us to discover it before the crisis erupts," Timothy said seriously. "You have bought us more time; whatever the enemy's goal may be, he will not succeed.
Colt shook his head slightly; he wasn't worried about that.
As a resident of Gotham, one occasionally sees the Joker broadcasting his games across the entire city via live stream, one might even find Scarecrow's fear toxin spraying from the tap water. The Riddler, with his penchant for grand spectacles, is even more annoying; he either cuts the power to the entire city, wanting to turn Gotham back into a primitive society, or blows up a dam in an attempt to flood the city..
Setting aside the lunatics in Arkham, the things hidden in his basement could destroy Gotham ten or eight times over.
Colt's nerves had long since been tempered into steel.
Why do you believe me?
Colt handed the note he had already written to Timothy.
Timothy raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised that Colt would have such a doubt, but he still answered seriously, "I believe you wouldn't joke about a disaster."
Colt looked into those cold, ice-blue eyes, where the sheer amount of trust within them made his heart race.
He lowered his eyes and handed over another note.
I have had a mental strength examination done for Dad.
The statement was abrupt and lacked context, but the clever Timothy understood what he meant.
You want to check if I've been infected by an unknown active microorganism," Timothy paused, "Can your mental power detect it, then kill it?
Colt nodded and looked up, meeting Timothy's eyes, silently asking: Are you willing?