Colt intercepted him halfway, handing him the Coffee Elf coaster that had "Step on Bruce's Baby, scatter files, scream 'Work, get to work!'" printed on it.
"Wow, perfect, I should buy a hundred of these to replicate and place them in every room where Bruce appears," Timothy marveled.
Colt opened the top cabinet where the spare coffee cups were kept, indicating that he had a whole set of such perfect cups and could pick any one he wanted!
The boy's sparkling eyes were far too beautiful.
Timothy cleared his throat, forgetting what he was about to say.
Timothy used a very distinctive coffee mug to brew himself a cup of coffee. As he inhaled the rich aroma of coffee that only existed in dreams, his fingers brushed against an embossed RR logo in a hidden corner of the coffee machine, he narrowed his eyes slightly.
The doorbell rang.
"The takeout I ordered is here." Timothy carried the coffee over to pick up the delivery.
Colt turned off the heat, in the few seconds it took, he stepped outside only to see the delivery man's shadow vanishing into the horizon.
First Superman delivers medicine, then Superboy delivers takeout; do you treat Kryptonians like delivery men?
Colt withdrew his gaze with a complex expression and looked at Timothy.
"I ordered congee, steamed eggs, fish, tofu—the menu the shop owner recommended—and he included a side of green vegetables." Timothy lifted the insulated takeout bag he was holding in his left hand.
Colt: "I didn't ask what you ordered!"
Timothy set down his coffee and reached out to stroke Colt's forehead.
The sudden contact caused Colt's heart to skip a beat, a look of panic crossed his face. Even though Timothy's palm was ice-cold, it felt like a glowing red iron, so hot that his mind felt like it was boiling and his thoughts were steaming.
“You still have a bit of a fever.”
Timothy withdrew his hand with a serious expression, as if touching a forehead was part of normal social etiquette. He took a child's fever patch out of the takeout bag, peeled off a piece, applied it to Colt's forehead.
Colt's head felt a bit dizzy, he felt like his fever was getting even worse.
The millet porridge was very easy on the stomach, the steamed egg with shrimp was tender and bouncy, the steamed fish was fresh and fragrant, the tofu looked like a blooming chrysanthemum—both beautiful and delicious. Even the green vegetables tasted of their own pure essence.
This wasn't the modified flavor popular in Chinatown, but authentic Chinese cuisine from across the ocean; no wonder it required a Kryptonian for delivery!
Colt ate with tears in his eyes, almost calling Timothy his foster father.
Ten years, no, a full eighteen years—having lived through death and died through life, he finally tasted that dreamlike flavor again!
Colt finished the last sip of his soup. "What do you want?"
Timothy didn't eat as much as Colt. He had long since put down his utensils and brewed a second cup of coffee, burying himself in his computer to handle work.
He looked up: "What?"
"Speak, what do you want?" Colt repeated, his expression carrying a sense of heroic martyrdom.
Gothamites don't do anything out of the goodness of their hearts, Timothy has been helping with group projects and looking after him so closely, even ordering takeout exactly the way he likes it—it's as if he's planted a listening device in his head. He must want something.
Is there something wrong with the vaccines? Or does he need Ghost to gather intelligence? Or does he want to see Joker mixed in with cement? It couldn't possibly be because of a classmate from a pitiful childhood!
Will Timothy remember him?
Colt's mind wandered.
"The results of last Friday's school shooting are in." Timothy turned the computer screen toward Colt, his expression serious as he spoke of serious matters.
The serious look on his face made him exude the elite aura of young Master Wayne, even without wearing a three-piece suit.
The shooting at Gotham High was also related to the toxic drinks.
Colt perked up and listened.
As Ghost, as long as Colt wanted, gathering intelligence was an incredibly easy task. He just didn't like meddling in other people's business; after all, no matter how much he did, it wouldn't change the essence of Gotham.
Gotham is like an abyss; gazing into its darkness will corrupt you into an evil god.
That was exactly why Colt admired Vigilante Forum so much.
Timothy shared intelligence with Colt.
The Jubilee Gang, who provided performance enhancers to the football team, are under Black Mask's command.
Gotham High reached the semifinals of the national high school football championship and will face Clinton High in a month. Clinton High is located in Hell's Kitchen, Black Mask wants to use this match to showcase the new drug to Kingpin.
The new drug was the Brain-eating worm in the energy drinks, the Biology Teacher was responsible for adding the Brain-eating worm into the supplements used by the team. The Brain-eating worm could secrete a substance that strengthened the body and anesthetized the nervous system, turning ordinary people into fearless, powerful warriors.
Penguin was unaware of the existence of Brain-eating worms, but he knew that Black Mask's secret casting of a net certainly wasn't for any good reason. He had someone cripple the Gotham football team to sabotage Black Mask's plan, ensuring that he remained the sole partner from Hell's Kitchen in Gotham.
The weapon used in the school shooting came from the black market controlled by Penguin. The gun was dismantled into parts and smuggled into the school over four days, hidden in the football team's storage room. The football team manager was a spy from Skarlan Middle School in the East End; after discovering the truth, he did not raise an alarm, but instead persuaded the coaching staff to organize a full-team training session on Friday, providing the killer with the opportunity to commit the crime.
..
The vaccine has passed small-scale testing and has been confirmed to be effective.
Large-scale infrasonic insect killers are being rushed into production, with the first wave of pest control expected to take place at ten o'clock tonight.
Timothy had many things to attend to and couldn't stay here, so he met with Colt face-to-face to set up an encrypted chat group.
The chat group is encrypted, so you can send messages without worry. I'll fill in the data for the Socioeconomics group assignment and send it to you; I'm using the first half of the year's Batman merchandise data. You can check it, if there are no issues, send it to the teacher's email before Friday..
Timothy naturally packed up a cup of coffee and took the Coffee Elf cup with him.
Colt watched the Aston Martin drive away, wondering if Timothy also possessed a simulator capable of accelerating time, which would explain how he could complete a massive amount of work in a limited time, even taking care of group assignments.
This isn't just a master of time management; this is a god of time management!
Colt sent Timothy off, used the ice machine to freeze two boxes of coffee ice cubes and several coffee popsicles, then gave the house a thorough cleaning.
Swept out seven monitors.
Fortunately, the basement had not yet been invaded.
Colt put the helmet back in its place, cleared the traces of the Virtual Laboratory within the Quantum Superbrain, checked the operation of the Earth Simulator, only then opened the paper Timothy had sent him.
Although Timothy didn't understand the concept of social distance, his economics paper was clearly structured and logically rigorous, complete with illustrations that made it impressively profound.
It was unlike a high schooler's paper; it would have been more than sufficient to serve as a graduate-level thesis.
Colt looked at his own name on the cover of the paper, understanding for the first time what it meant to win without even trying.
The Gotham section of the Vigilante Forum was as lively as ever. During the time Colt was making pharmaceuticals and sleeping, Gotham experienced a series of prison breaks by Killer Croc, Mr. Freeze, Riddler, who were subsequently captured by Batman and brought back to Arkham, someone saw Red Robin cooperating with the Outlaws.
There was no news regarding the Brain-eating worm, the toxic drinks were still being sold; only Wayne was sponsoring free physical examinations for all schools in Gotham to promote campus medical insurance.
Colt assembled the extended and widened Flying Skateboard, pondering what he could do.
As night fell, Birdie had stayed up for two days straight and was now curled up in his nest, sleeping soundly.
Colt held a coffee ice ball in his mouth while organizing his backpack, his laptop, spare hearing aid, nanobots, high-potency anesthetic, slingshot..
Even though there was no need for a fight, it was better to be prepared, he could use the opportunity to run a test at the same time.
Colt put on his jacket, grabbed a handful of candy to put in his pocket, wore his backpack on his front. He tucked a thermos filled with coffee ice cubes into one side pocket of the backpack and stuffed a box of chalk into the other. Then, he selected a Red Robin monitor with the most battery life and clipped it onto his backpack, adding the monitor to the Spacetime Signal Stabilizer's trusted list. Finally, he put on his Quantum Terminal before stepping out on his Flying Skateboard.
[AI taking control of the Flying Skateboard, navigating to Gotham..]
A light screen appeared before Colt's eyes, with text scrolling continuously across the screen.
Gotham.
The head coach of the Gotham High football team's vital signs gradually stabilized, he was transferred to a private intensive care ward. He woke up for half an hour in the afternoon before passing out again, GCPD officers were waiting outside the ward door to take his statement.
The nurse changing the medication had her back to the door, injecting air into the patient's vein.
A piece of chalk suddenly appeared, streaking through the air like a projectile and striking the nurse in the temple.
Clatter!
The nurse collapsed without a word, knocking over the medicine trolley.
The new harvest from the Virtual Laboratory allows mental energy to permeate objects, which can not only provide guidance but also strengthen chalk to deal soul-type damage to biological entities.
Provided that the loss of mental power is minimal.
It doesn't matter; as long as the loss doesn't exceed the recovery rate, mental power won't be an issue.
Colt checked the nurse's condition; all her bodily functions were operating normally, there were no external injuries. Based on the reactions of her cerebral nerves, she had simply fainted due to intense pain.
GCPD officers burst through the door and, seeing the empty syringe that had already been pressed down a fifth of the way on the patient's hand, instantly realized this was a murder. They quickly restrained the unconscious nurse and called for backup.
Facing the unconscious criminal, the Gotham police didn't bother investigating how the criminal had passed out; instead, they looked around the room and shouted a loud "thank you" toward the fluttering curtains.
Colt had already left the ward and, following the communicator on the nurse, rushed toward another signal point.
A taxi was parked in the alleyway by the back door of the hospital, the driver was rolling a handmade cigarette on the hood. He suddenly pressed his hand to his ear, listening to something, then reported "mission failed" to someone.
In the next second, the driver suddenly ducked, a piece of chalk brushed past the top of his head, crashing heavily behind him.
A small crater was smashed into the ground, the piece of chalk remained intact.
The alert driver rolled over to take cover behind the car and drew the gun from his leg.
Slingshots and chalk are fine against ordinary people, but against gang elites who have survived through a hail of bullets, their power is still a bit lacking.
The guidance effect needs to be strengthened; the chalk needs to learn how to curve.
Colt thought about using a potent anesthetic and injecting it directly into the other person's nose.
"Colt, at this hour, a patient should be in bed." Red Robin's voice came through the monitor.
Colt stood in front of the unconscious driver, ordering the AI to call the GCPD to report the incident, while simultaneously using his hand to cover the Red Robin monitor resting on the backpack and then releasing it to send Morse code: 【You're the patient】.
Red Robin said nothing, nor did he interrupt the communication.
[Signal point located, navigating..]
Colt tapped his foot, the Flying Skateboard changed direction, entering flight mode and flying in a straight line from high above toward Red Robin's location.
There are three major powers in Gotham's underworld: Black Mask, Two-Face, Penguin.
It's not that Joker, Riddler, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, others aren't strong enough, but rather that most of the madmen in Arkham prefer to work alone, at most recruiting some lackeys right before they cause trouble.
Black Mask, Two-Face, Penguin are different; they each possess massive industries, including legitimate businesses operating in the open.
Of course, Two-Face is currently in Arkham, Penguin claims to be a good person, the current gang leader in Gotham is Black Mask.
Black Mask loves high-rise buildings that overlook the whole city; this entire street nearby belongs to him. Regardless of how he acquired the real estate, this busy main street is his hostage, in any case.
Inside the heavily guarded building, Red Robin moved through the ventilation ducts.
Black Mask went to the docks to receive a shipment of important cargo. Batman and Robin were at the docks keeping watch, while Red Robin's objective was to find the Brain-eating worm's mother.
Level twelve underground.