Red Robin landed on the motorcycle in the depths of Dark Alley and waved to Colt: "Your bird is awake and is looking for you. Go home, quickly."
The Quantum Terminal projected the surveillance footage from home, showing Birdie searching everywhere, from the attic to the basement, looking for someone.
Colt thought for a moment, then emptied all the lollipops from his pocket to give to Red Robin, then handed over the thermos filled with coffee ice cubes.
Red Robin simply smiled and thanked him when he received the lollipops. Once he opened the thermos and saw the coffee ice cubes inside, his smile widened instantly. He popped one into his mouth, even the white film of his Domino Mask seemed to brighten. He cheerfully tightened the thermos and hooked the thermos sleeve's buckle onto his utility belt.
【Red Robin is online, everyone. Where do you need backup? 】
Wow, you sound like you're in a great mood. Is it because you're working solo, Timmy?
Watch your tone, Nightwing. Red Robin, I want to see a detailed mission report within the week. Now, get to the Iceberg Lounge; you know what needs to be done.
Red Robin, copy that. Oracle, notify the GCPD to come to Black Mask's headquarters; they can pick up the sleeping criminals within an hour." Red Robin cut into Red Hood's helmet communication channel. "Hey, Big Red, need a hand?
I told you not to mess with my helmet! Do you want to die, Little Red!" Red Hood threatened angrily, but his tone changed abruptly the next second: "Bizarro, stop, you can't smash that.. Artemis, don't touch that.. Roy! I swear you won't get another cent from me.. Alright, Little Red, you win, this place needs someone with a brain to take inventory here.
..
The Robin Bird is a male.
In the third-grade science class, there was an observation assignment. Colt chose to observe birds and picked up a clutch of eggs from birds that had lost their mother.
There were five eggs in total, named President, Detective, Robin, Bat, Superbird, respectively. Later, an accident occurred at home, the incubator was knocked over, only Robin Bird successfully hatched.
Colt watched with his own eyes as the bird broke through its shell and watched it grow. From the very moment the bird chirped at Ghost, it became an important member of Colt's family.
Now, Birdie flapped its wings and chirped, then hopped onto the mantel clock to peck at the hour hand, stretching its invisible neck and continuing to chirp.
Colt didn't understand bird language, but he knew the bird was scolding him: out fooling around this late at night, how disgraceful!
He put his things down, took off his coat, washed his hands and face, then picked up Birdie to give her a kiss, then another, rubbing his cheek against the bird's head.
Birdie's chirping gradually became more melodic; after nipping at Colt's hair, it flew to the stair railing, hopped up a few times, urged Colt to go upstairs to sleep.
Colt let out a yawn.
Well, even though he had slept during the day, his mental energy hadn't fully recovered, his head still felt achy and sore; he definitely needed more rest.
Red Robin landed on the rooftop of the Iceberg Lounge, pulled out his phone to take a look, saw an encrypted message from his chat group with Colt.
[139, 0, 255: Goodnight.]
Red Robin touched the hearing aid on his ear. He didn't know what material it was made of, but if his brain could handle the strain, he could expand its reception range to cover all of Gotham, using it as a form of super-hearing.
[Hey, Little Red, if you're here to help, then stop standing there like a gargoyle.. Damn it, Armory, don't pry open that vault..]
The Outlaws were difficult to manage; Red Hood was cursing in the communication channel.
Red Robin didn't answer, but instead quickly typed a reply to Colt:
[185, 205, 246: Goodnight (*￣￣)]
Colt had already finished washing up and was lying in bed, but when he saw the phone screen light up, he climbed back up.
The smiling emoji was very cute, quite like Timothy.
Chirp.
Birdie hopped onto the phone and pecked at Colt's finger.
I know, I know.
Colt plugged the phone in to charge, set it down with the screen off, then curled up under the covers.
Birdie curled up by the pillow to keep watch, slowly closed her eyes as well.
Colt was sleeping fitfully.
He was dreaming.
The dream was surreal and bizarre, yet he remained lucid and rational, knowing that he was dreaming.
The Joker fired in the giant screen, the bullets piercing Alisa's heart. The Joker's blood-stained mouth curled into a grin, forcing people to choose between Strawberry Jam and Cherry Juice.
Strawberry jam is Gotham Elementary, which houses nearly a thousand students and teachers; cherry juice is the Botanical Garden, where hundreds of socialites and celebrities are holding a charity auction.
It doesn't matter which one is chosen; the Joker never follows the rules, both will end up exploding.
Batman was trapped; he had to defuse the bomb buried under the grand hall within ten minutes.
Colt started running and somehow ended up by the edge of the auditorium stage.
A child grabbed him: "Colt, our show is about to start, where are you going?"
It was Timothy's voice.
Colt looked back, staring at the little boy in front of him. He had black hair and blue eyes, was no more than nine years old, wore a small suit with a bowtie, his face still possessing a hint of baby fat.
It's our turn.
Little Timothy pulled Colt toward the stage, the spotlight following them.
This is a dream.
Why was I holding hands with Timothy in the dream?
Aren't most performance acts a man and a woman? Two boys performing together doesn't make sense.
Colt thought about how, once he was pulled to the piano in the center of the stage by Timothy, they would be performing a four-hands duet.
As for the piano, I only know how to listen to it, not play it.
Just as Colt thought this, his hands began dancing automatically across the piano keys, playing "The Waltz of the Flowers."
Now is not the time for playing the piano; I should be defusing bombs!
Colt muttered to himself, but his buttocks remained glued to the chair as his fingers continuously pressed the piano keys, pouring out a joyful and passionate melody.
As the final note landed, Timothy once again led Colt in a bow to the audience, the grand hall shaking amidst the applause.
See, it explodes if you don't defuse it; it's perfectly logical.
Colt was tackled by Timothy, watching as the chandelier crashed down on Timothy, followed by the iron frame, the ceiling..
Blood covered his vision, the world turned red.
..
Colt sat up abruptly.
That dream.. no, was it a dream or a memory?
Colt gasped for breath, clutching his rapidly pounding heart.
Birdie was startled awake, her small head rubbing against Colt's forehead before she hopped onto the nightstand and pecked at the water glass, reminding him to drink more water.
Colt stroked the bird, picked up his phone, took a look. It was one in the morning, Timothy had not sent any more messages after saying goodnight.
He pulled back the curtains and looked outside; the Bat-Signal was still hanging in the sky, so Red Robin was likely still working.
Colt dragged the backpack from the sofa and pulled out a laptop to look up information.
Timothy had taken a break from third grade for a while, then transferred to a private boarding school for fourth grade. Before that, he attended Gotham Elementary, according to Colt's files, he was in the same class.
Birdie landed on Colt's shoulder and pecked at his ear.
Colt snapped out of it, put down the computer, took a sip of water, curled back under the covers.
He thought he wouldn't be able to sleep, but as soon as he closed his eyes, he started dreaming again.
The familiar, bizarre light, the familiar school auditorium.
The Joker was telling his not-so-funny jokes on the big screen, asking a weeping pregnant woman why she wasn't laughing; a mother stepped forward, the Joker pointed his gun at her..
Colt turned and ran, leaving the gunshots and the fallen Alisa behind.
“Colt, it's our turn to step up. Where are you going?"
“Tim, I'm going to a very far place. Although I'm not the protagonist and my power isn't strong enough yet, that is no excuse to retreat. I won't be coming back, so you must forget me. Although heroes can bear suffering and continue to move forward, I don't like becoming someone else's suffering. If I cannot become sweetness and laughter, then let me become air..”
Colt's mouth moved in a rapid series of strange words as he shook off Timothy's hand and continued running.
He found the bomb, but in his dream, he was clumsy and didn't know how to defuse it. The battle-scarred Batman finally arrived, but there were only three seconds left on the countdown.
Colt wrapped the bomb in his mental power.
I'm sorry, Batman, can you remember that I was once here? I will send you back, then I'll go burn down the editorial office; if I fail, you can forget me completely..
The countdown hit zero.
Colt felt pain in every single part of his body.
The dream shattered once again, Colt snapped his eyes open, finding himself covered in a cold sweat, his pajamas soaked through.
He gently moved Birdie aside and got up to change his clothes.
The curtains were pulled aside, Red Robin leaned half of his body into the room, only to freeze in place.
Colt crossed his hands, grabbing the hem of his T-shirt and pulling it upward. As the shirt was halfway off, he felt a searing sensation at his waist. He instinctively turned his head to face Red Robin, who was crouching by the window.
Only the bedside lamp was lit in the room. Under the dim, yellowish light, half of Red Robin's face was hidden in the shadows, water droplets were dripping from his body.
A soaking wet Red Robin.
Is it raining outside?
No, it was Red Robin, who had been climbing through the window, getting baptized by the rain.
Perhaps because he had been a Ghost for so long, Colt was somewhat sensitive to being watched. He felt as if Red Robin's gaze was as scorching as a tongue of fire. He instinctively turned his body slightly, keeping his back to Red Robin as he continued to take off his shirt.
They were both male; there was nothing wrong with scrubbing each other's backs while naked, besides, he was still wearing pants.
Colt put on a clean T-shirt as pajamas and pulled his hair out from inside the shirt.
Red Robin paused, but he still climbed into the room, shook out his dripping cape, brushed his hanging bangs behind his head, composed himself.
There was nothing to be embarrassed about; he had climbed through windows in the middle of the night so many times, he had seen all sorts of scenes.. Colt needed more exercise; he was so thin you could see his ribs.
Colt handed the towel, which he had prepared to wipe his sweat with but hadn't used, to Red Robin.
Red Robin set down the crate in his hands, took the towel, wiped his hair a few times before tossing the towel onto the back of the sofa. Then, he took off his gloves and pressed the back of his hand against Colt's forehead.
The temperature has dropped a bit.
But he still had a slight fever, his eyes were hazy and misty, making him look especially well-behaved.
Red Robin's hand, which had been testing his temperature, paused.