A person and a bird interacted back and forth, getting along quite well.
【139, 0, 255: Your brother is cute. 】
[185, 205, 246: Because what is in front of him is a bird, not a person; he just caused your fixed assets to drop by five thousand.]
Timothy is right.
Colt looked up at the shattered holographic projection lens, in an instant, he no longer found Robin cute.
Red Robin silently flipped onto the windowsill and gave Colt a silent wave. Then, leaning against the window frame, he sat on the sill with a cool, crouched posture, issuing a low warning: "Robin, this isn't on your patrol route."
Red Robin's cape flared in shock as he spun around, drawing his blade to point it at Red Robin. "You're the weakling who's grounded for a month; you shouldn't be here even less."
Red Robin blocked the slashing blade with his staff, letting out a light laugh. "Careful not to hurt Birdie."
Birdie landed on Red Robin's staff, then hopped onto Red Robin's shoulder, rubbing his face with a fluffy head and chirping twice at Robin, acting as a peacemaker bird.
Fine, fine, just don't fight.
"Tsk." Red Robin let out an annoyed click of his tongue, as he had to leave because Batman summoned him. He took a few steps away, then turned back to grab the Cockroach Robin cup.
As expected of brothers, they both love to eat and take things.
Colt inspected the damaged floodgate mechanism by the maintenance window, while Red Robin found the Micro Tracker under the bird's tail.
Birdie nipped at Red Robin's hair, leading him to the television, hopping around the disassembled TV, even pecking at the power plug with its beak.
Just as Red Robin picked up a wire, Colt's voice rang out over the encrypted channel.
No way.
Red Robin put down the line, pointed at Colt, spread his hands toward Birdie: "No way."
Birdie angrily flapped its wings through Timothy's hair and rolled away to sleep upstairs. It didn't even return to Colt's bedroom, choosing instead to sleep in the bird's nest in the study.
Red Robin spun around to check for any extra surveillance, then familiarly took out his own special coffee mug, brewed himself a cup of black coffee without sugar or milk, leaned against the window to watch Colt repair the mechanism.
Birdie is angry.
"Robin is right, overindulgence is a form of abuse; I should be stricter with Robin Bird." Colt decided to be a strict parent.
Red Robin curled his lip. "He broke your defense system mechanisms and smashed your holographic projector lens the very first time he came here, yet you're still treating him to milk."
He's a friend of Robin Bird, but you are mine." Colt confirmed that the damaged water gate required replacement parts to be repaired, so he simply dismantled it. He clapped his hands and looked up at Red Robin. "Why did Batman ground you?
"Well, it's not grounding, it's just not participating in the Bat Family's night patrols, but I'm free to move around," Red Robin said, reaching out toward Colt.
Colt didn't understand, but he still quickly grasped it.
Red Robin pulled Colt up onto the windowsill, then plucked a red rose from Colt's head, twirling it between his fingers while looking at Colt with a smile.
He didn't say anything, but his expression spoke volumes.
The Robin Bird brought it from the Wayne Manor conservatory." Colt paused, looking at Red Robin with confusion in his eyes. "Does he like sticking colorful things on my head to mark his territory? Or is he using my head as a display platform for courtship and breeding?
Every year during the bird breeding season, Colt paid close attention to Birdie, but he never saw Birdie perform a courtship dance with any female bird.
Red Robin thought for a moment. "Maybe it's a gift. He has such vibrant feathers himself, so he wants to decorate you with something colorful."
Colt nodded, finding it reasonable.
Red Robin tucked the rose behind Colt's ear again and took a leisurely sip of coffee.
Colt didn't give him a good look, "It's 10:05. Drinking coffee at night, do you plan on staying up all night again?"
Red Robin looked at Colt, then at the coffee in his hands, continued to pour it into his mouth with a sense of reckless abandon. "It doesn't matter. I've already been exempted from tomorrow's first-period Socioeconomics. The second and third periods are Computer Science, there's Foreign Language in the fourth period. They're all perfect for catching up on sleep."
Bad student!
Ever since Black Mask and Penguin were sent to Arkham, Red Hood had taken possession of the "legacy" of two supervillains. Using iron-fisted methods to suppress the underworld and holding Jason Wayne hostage to control Wayne Enterprises, he dominated both the light and the dark, bringing a relative peace to Gotham.
Colt was not at peace.
Timothy finally stopped producing coffee; after the Dream Treasure Chest had already yielded gems and photos, it had now yielded a spleen.
Whose spleen is this?
To be able to be opened as a treasure within a Dream Treasure Chest, it must be something Timothy has been yearning for. Is it an important piece of evidence for one of Red Robin's cases?
The spleen possesses various functions, such as immunity, metabolism, hematopoiesis, blood filtration, blood storage, the clearance of aged red blood cells. While a person does not die without a spleen, its importance to a human being is beyond doubt.
Could it be Timothy's own?
The last time, only the area above the neck was scanned, so Timothy's specific physical condition remains unclear; it seems he needs to undergo another detailed full-body scan.
Colt only had one class on Monday morning, but he still arrived at school early. He borrowed the study room from Timothy and naturally took out a thermos and handed it over.
Here's the coffee I brewed this morning, for you.
Colt specifically chose a thermos with a glass liner, so the flavor of the coffee wouldn't be affected even if it sat for a long time.
"Oh, Colt, I'm going to fall in love with you." Timothy reached out to take it.
Colt seemed startled by his words, his hand trembling as he failed to hold the thermos steady.
Timothy hurriedly reached out to catch it.
Colt's reaction was a bit slow; he instinctively reached for the slipping thermos, but instead caught Timothy's hand. His spiritual power seemed startled, suddenly expanding and then retracting, rapidly sweeping across Timothy's body.
Timothy's lower left abdomen felt a bit empty.
"Stop joking around." Colt calmly withdrew his hand.
At noon, Colt took the initiative to find Timothy for lunch. While handing him a sandwich, he accidentally brushed against Timothy's hand, he swept him with his spiritual power once again.
Timothy's spleen had indeed been removed, it had been less than a year.
During the afternoon science and biology class, because the teacher had been taken away by the GCPD due to involvement in a case, the school found a teaching assistant to give them a lecture and show them a biology documentary.
In the dark screening room, the two sat in the last row. Colt interfered with the surveillance in advance, then used the same old trick, asking Timothy to borrow a pen.
This time, as soon as his hand reached out, it was caught by Timothy.
Colt froze for a moment, staring straight ahead while observing with his peripheral vision. Timothy was handling company emails with one hand on a tablet, the faint light reflecting off his face and making his features appear even more well-defined.
Colt tried to pull his hand away, but he couldn't.
Timothy interlaced his fingers with Colt's, gripping even tighter with his ten fingers crossed.
Colt pursed his lips, nervously glancing around the room. The teacher was in the front row looking at a computer, the students were either sleeping or playing on their phones, some were even sneaking out of the screening room.. No one was paying attention to the back; Timothy wouldn't be noticed even if he disappeared for a while.
He shook hands with him confidently, activating a full-body spiritual scan.
Timothy's body contained many old injuries; several bones showed signs of previous cracks or fractures, with only one rib lacking callus formation. The joints in his legs were worn down as if he were twenty-eight, there were several areas of mild inflammation within his body.. He also had two impacted wisdom teeth that would be best extracted before the age of twenty.
..
Oak Tree Manor, Little Reed's home, Basement Level -3.
Colt put his helmet on again. With sufficient computing power from the Quantum Superbrain, the Earth Simulator ran as usual. He established a Virtual Laboratory with a time dilation ratio of 1:1000 and input Timothy's data to perform human body modeling.
Timothy's epiphyseal plates have not yet closed, so he can still grow a bit more, with an expected height of 187cm.
Colt recalculated, Timothy's future height was indeed 187cm.
Colt stared at the number, pulled up his own nutritional intake chart, increased his vitamin D intake, ramped up his milk purchases.
Height anxiety was just a minor interlude.
Colt started the experiment at four in the afternoon and didn't log out until eight in the evening, exporting the autologous spleen transplantation protocol he had discovered through hundreds or even thousands of experiments.
As long as the doctor is reliable, the success rate of the surgery is 99%.
Colt drank a bottle of spiritual energy supplement and ate his belated dinner while checking his spiritual space. Even with the best current medical preservation technology, it was impossible to keep an organ viable for a long time, so the spleen remained in the Dream Station.
11cm long, 7cm wide, 3.5cm thick, weighing 150g, the piece of living meat was wrapped in a special bubble, with every single cell showing that it was fresh and healthy.
Organ transplants are not uncommon; Wayne could find the best surgeons. The problem was how to tell Timothy that there was a fresh, healthy spleen available for transplant, that there would be absolutely no ethical controversies, nor any need to worry about post-operative rejection.
Timothy knew about the Spiritual Connection and had also mentioned sleep duration; he must have guessed that the Spiritual Connection was related to dreams. The coffee cup had a distinct character, the flavor of the coffee was the same as in the dream; perhaps Timothy had long known that he could obtain resources from dreams.
Should he tell Timothy?
Tell Timothy about the existence of the Dream Station, then find a way to control the dream to maximize the benefits of the Dream Treasure Chest?
..
The renovation next door was in full swing, Timothy was smashing walls in there in the middle of the night.
Big hammer eighty, small hammer forty..
Colt sat on a streetlight, listening to the clanging sounds coming from the building, muttered silently to himself.
Timothy didn't lack the funds to hire construction workers; it was just that the fewer people who knew about things like renovating the basement and building the Red Robin safehouse, the better. After all, as a Vigilante, he couldn't simply make people disappear once the project was finished, like a villain would.
Colt looked up at the sky; the light show Bruce had arranged to celebrate the second son's return was still continuing.
The lights were the radiance that annihilated the Brain-eating worms, infrasound, inaudible to the human ear, would occasionally ring out. It was said that, just to be safe, Superman of the Justice League had once carried instruments around the Earth to conduct infrasound extermination.
I don't know what Red Robin said to Batman, but these past few days, besides following the Robins that Birdie had scavenged, Colt had not seen Batman knocking on his window.
Only Red Robin was banned from night patrols for a month.
Timothy emerged from the darkness, pushing a wheelbarrow.
A fine drizzle drifted from the sky, the September night already carried a hint of chill. Timothy was wearing work trousers, with only a thin tank top on his upper body. Smashing walls was exhausting work; Timothy's tank top was already soaked with sweat, becoming translucent under the streetlights and making the muscles of his shoulders and back very prominent.
Timothy lifted the hem of his shirt, using the inside of his tank top to wipe the droplets of sweat or rain from his face.
My god, he even has an eight-pack! Someone really should let those people at school who call Timothy frail come and see how good Drake's physique is; the explosive power in his abdomen could throw them like balls.
Colt rubbed his own stomach, feeling only a soft mass, found no scars.
Timothy had several scars on his upper body, one of which was located on the lower left side of his abdomen, which should be the surgical incision from his splenectomy.
The pen in Colt's hand accidentally fell, landing right in front of Timothy.
Timothy looked up at him and sighed, "The light is bright enough, come down and help."
Colt rolled up the document and stuffed it into his pocket, then slowly floated down to pick up the pen. He controlled himself from constantly staring at Timothy's scars, as that would make him look like a pervert.
His glistening abs under the lights were indeed something he envied.
"Is it okay that I know about your secret safehouse?" Colt saved Timothy's communication channel, by defaulting the link signal when they were face-to-face, chatting became very convenient.
"I thought Gotham held no secrets from you." Timothy put down his clothes.