Distance was not an issue for them. Tim said that not having a traction bracelet on his wrist felt like losing a precious treasure, so Colt would fly across thousands of mountains and rivers every day to find Tim. When Tim worked, Colt would sit there doodling in a notebook or using a Quantum Terminal to organize experimental data. He would sometimes sit in Tim's lap, sometimes lie on Tim's back, using Tim's head as a prop for his notebook.
It was fine when they were in the office, but when Tim was in meetings, Colt would often intentionally cause interference. To prevent others from noticing anything unusual, Tim could only struggle to maintain his composure, while Colt would even send laughter through the communication channel.
Of course, once the meeting ended, Tim would always find an opportunity to "laugh" back.
Chapter 58
Colt did not let romance distract him from his studies; every night, he would conscientiously go to the Virtual Laboratory to study for a few hours using a 1:1000 time dilation.
Colt managed to concoct the medicinal liquid before the semester started, marking a checkmark next to the healing potion project on his study schedule and archiving the data.
"Won't you be conducting pre-clinical research?" Timothy had returned to Gotham yesterday. He was organizing Colt's recent notes, labeling them one by one just like organizing books in a library, then putting spare new notebooks into his backpack. He had custom-ordered 500 lined notebooks and 500 blank sketchbooks, all 3cm thick leather-bound volumes, which would be enough for Colt to use for a long time.
"Makeup exam tomorrow." Colt missed the final exams last semester, but fortunately, the school allowed makeup exams at the start of the term.
Colt had taken many online exams before. His father had already serviced the projection equipment, the proctor had also been notified. He only needed to maintain synchronization with the projection so that the surveillance footage wouldn't look too strange.
I want to change to a holographic projection image.
Have you considered changing your image?
Two voices rang out at the same time.
The two looked at each other in silence.
Tim happily patted Colt's back of the head: "Using your body data, I've sculpted a holographic virtual avatar that can be controlled via Spiritual Power. It can change outfits, has a more realistic tactile feel than the original one, is more resistant to information interference."
Colt only heard, "Does 'changing clothes' include underwear?"
Timothy said righteously, "Is there anywhere else you don't want me to look?"
We spend at least 14 hours together every day. I thought the rest of your time would be spent researching the Red Robin project, attending video conferences, reviewing financial reports, conducting high-intensity patrols of the Dark Web and Gotham, checking the social media accounts and surveillance of your family and friends.. Where on earth do you find the time to upgrade holographic projections and play virtual dress-up games?
Colt only focuses on dating and studying, even with the help of a 1:1000 Virtual Laboratory, he still feels like he doesn't have enough time.
Time is like water in a sponge; if you squeeze it, you can always get something out of it." Timothy showed off his meticulously crafted dress-up game. "A miniature projector, button-sized, portable, it can give you a full score of presence.
If I needed a sense of presence, I could build myself a chip-controlled robotic body," Colt said, hugging Tim. "Tim, having you in my world is enough.
Timothy pressed his face against his, saying earnestly, "Colt, you can choose not to have it, but you cannot live without it."
This is definitely the best sweet talk.
Colt hoped February 14th would come sooner.
The online makeup exam went very smoothly; even Joseph didn't interfere.
Colt ultimately used the avatar designed by Tim, but he lowered the luster of the hair and skin and added a somber, dark filter, which at least made the new image look seventy percent similar to the old one.
With the new semester beginning, Colt did not plan to take any college courses in advance, so his only tasks for this semester were preparing for the ACT at the end of February and the SAT in mid-March, giving him plenty of free time. Timothy's primary academic tasks this semester were also focused on exams; since there were few classes at school, he had the time to accept invitations to go to a cafe for coffee.
Colt stared intently at the two people chatting across from each other in the coffee shop.
Blondie had already obtained his visa and scholarship for Germany; he was set to depart for Germany tomorrow to take language classes, then, starting from the winter semester, he would repeat one year of high school before attending university.
"You signed up for the February ACT exam?" Blondie seemed surprised that Timothy chose to take the exam instead of going straight to college with a recommendation letter.
Colt climbed through the glass window and sat on Tim's lap.
Blondie's expression changed instantly, he jumped up abruptly, nearly knocking over his coffee.
Tim looked unperturbed, tilting his head slightly to look at Blondie, said with a smile, "The exam is a way to test what I've learned over all these years."
Um, yeah, that's right, sorry, I think there's something wrong with my eyes, I suddenly couldn't see you for a moment." Blondie laughed awkwardly. "Anyway, thank you so much for your help, can we exchange phone numbers?
Colt pinched Tim's thigh.
Tim was incredibly resilient, reporting a phone number with a voice that didn't tremble in the slightest. It wasn't his usual private number, nor was it a corporate work number, but one of the hundreds of numbers Red Robin used to communicate with informants.
Colt released the flesh he was pinching with his fingertips and gave it a soothing stroke.
Tim lost his unshakable composure and scratched Colt's waist.
Colt's lower back was a sensitive spot; a firm grip was fine, but a light tickle would make his whole body go limp as if struck by electricity.
Tim pretended to steady himself against the table, but in reality, he wrapped his arms around Colt's waist to stand up. "I still have some work to do at the company."
Sorry for the interruption, go ahead and get back to your work.
Goodbye, I wish you a speedy return once you have completed your studies.
Tim nodded, grabbed Colt's hand, put it in his own pocket, leading him to the front desk to pay for both of their coffees. It wasn't until they left the coffee shop that Tim dropped his elegant gentleman persona, pulled up the hood of his coat, lowered his head, pretending to be on a phone call while speaking to Colt: "You were the one who said you wanted to build a Treatment Pod at home."
“It's already done.” Colt clung to Tim's back like a ghost, complaining, "I came to ask you about the experimental subjects, only to find out you were on a date with Blondie."
"He is leaving Gotham tomorrow, he came to say goodbye to me." Tim refused to define the recent meeting as a date.
"Isn't blond hair much better than silver? I prefer gold, too." Colt grabbed his own hair and used it to scratch Tim's cheek.
“I don't like money, I prefer elegant, pure silver.” Tim bit the end of the hair being brought to his lips.
Tim enjoyed the little bit of jealousy Colt showed, as if he were jealous that Colt thought Damian was cute.
Damn it, does Damian have even a cent's worth of cuteness?
No!
Damian is clearly just a demon brat! He'd be better off being jealous of Colt's love for studying more than for him!
..
The test subjects Timothy found for Colt came from Red Hood's recommendation; they included those with traumatic injuries resulting in disability, chemical burns, late-stage cancer, severe addiction—all of them were orphans from the East End under the age of ten, the one with severe addiction was even an infant.
The testing site was arranged in the medical room of the Iceberg Club. Red Hood told the kids that there were doctors who needed patients to practice on, that food and lodging would be provided during the treatment, so the kids agreed. They didn't ask if the doctors had medical licenses, nor did they ask if the medicines used were compliant with regulations. It wasn't because they were too young and naive; rather, in their concept, Gotham's licensed doctors and certain compliant medicines were equally dangerous.
"The effect definitely won't be as good as the one Barbara uses," Colt said, giving a preemptive warning.
The chemically synthesized medicine has an identical molecular structure, but the finished product isn't deep green; instead, it's a near-transparent light green, likely due to a lack of some unknown energy.
"It's fine, they've all made themselves mentally prepared to die once they're full." Red Hood said quite calmly.
It turned out that Colt's capacity for innovation might be insufficient, but his level of imitation was definitely high enough. Aside from patients with traumatic disabilities and those whose arms had not regrown after amputation, everyone else's condition improved; even patients with late-stage neuroblastoma saw their lesions shrink and eventually disappear after their second treatment.
Colt records everyone's data, tracking the reactions of different patients' cellular tissues.
The Treatment Pod is a vital commander in eradicating diseases; it is responsible for deciding the treatment plan. The first step is to strengthen the immune system, then, depending on the specific medical condition, activate the components of different medications.
Take a cancer patient, for example. Once the therapeutic molecules locate the lesion, they first mark the cancer cells and the normal cells, then transmit the findings to the immune system. Next, they cut off the nutrient supply to the cancer cells, causing them to lose their ability to proliferate infinitely, finally, they enhance the activity of normal cells to strengthen the body, allowing the immune system to eradicate the cancer cells.
Without the coordinated command of the Treatment Pod, relying solely on oral or injectable medicinal liquid, treatment would take at least several months or even a year, unless specific specialized medicines are developed for different ailments.
Colt worked on building the Treatment Pod while simultaneously synthesizing specialized medicines for various diseases, time passed steadily until February 13th.
Tomorrow is a special day, so Tim worked a little late. Since he won't be coming to the company for the next week, he has already told Lucius to contact Bruce regarding any urgent matters.
At 9:00 PM, Tim finally finished processing all the documents and prepared to leave work. Before he could even leave Wayne Tower, he heard a piercing alarm, then the elevator came to a sudden, jarring halt mid-air.
Great, it was the CEO's private elevator, there was no one else around him.
Tim pried open the elevator shaft and climbed out, seeing the Bat-Signal lighting up the sky, thus the furious Red Robin went online.
"Joker has escaped from Arkham!" Oracle notified.
Red Robin's desire to kill the Joker reached its peak at this moment.
The person causing trouble at Wayne Tower wasn't the Joker, but a courier strapped with bombs. He claimed that the Quantum Teleportation Device had caused him to lose his job, he wanted to take revenge on Wayne Enterprises.
Damn it, Quantum Teleportation Devices haven't been fully rolled out yet, shipping costs are dozens of times higher than international air freight. Currently, they are only used within small circles of high society, so it's not enough to affect a delivery man's livelihood just yet.
It's clearly the work of a competitor!
Red Robin didn't want to waste time here; he put on his Hearing Aid and called for Ghost.
[Ghost, can you hear me?]
Colt was plucking rose petals, it took him a second to realize that this was the first time he and Timothy had communicated through the built-in channel of a Hearing Aid instead of using mobile messages, since they couldn't communicate face-to-face.
I'm here.
【Item number thirteen in basement storage locker number four, deliver it to Wayne Tower within three minutes. Can you do it? 】
[Ghost received, mission guaranteed to be completed.]
Colt thought that communicating this way was very interesting and extremely cool.
"Go to sleep first, Daddy has to go to work." Colt patted Birdie, who was using its mouth to help carry a petal, then grabbed the items from the basement. Stepping onto a skateboard, he accelerated to hypersonic speeds and arrived at Wayne Tower in less than twenty seconds, just as Red Robin had finished changing into his uniform.
Everything in locker number four was a dream product, but item number 13 was a bomb remote.
"Do you need help?" Colt handed the bomb detonator to Red Robin.
Red Robin plucked a rose petal from Colt's lapel, bit it between his lips, then reached up to squeeze the nape of Colt's neck, pulling their faces close to exchange the taste of the rose petal with him.
Wait for me at home.
The edible rose was a bit sour, there was also a hint of coffee aroma.
No, the coffee aroma must have come from Red Robin himself.
Colt chewed on half a petal as he flew home, just in time to see the Bat Family out in force—red, yellow, green, purple. Various colored little birds were either riding motorcycles, using wheelchairs, or swinging from grappling hooks, darting all over Gotham.
It's certainly lively.
It was only normal for Batgirl to reappear in Gotham, Red Hood's leg injury had healed long ago, so why was he still sitting in a wheelchair? Moreover, the wheelchair had been transformed into a flying artillery platform; the armrests on both sides had become grenade launchers, six muzzles extended from his back like a peacock's tail, there were even hanging missiles beneath his feet!
Fully armed Red Hood asked, 【Little Red Bird, do you need help? 】
"It's already handled. The outsider's technology is no good; the detonator failed." Red Robin removed the bomb from the terrorist, his tone relaxed, but his expression was exceptionally serious.
The detonator had indeed failed, because even without the detonator, the bomb would have exploded at 21:09. Fortunately, Red Robin had heard about the Joker's prison break, his alertness instantly reached its peak, prompting Colt to send over a dream-version remote control, allowing him to use the pause button to turn all the bombs into duds.
At 21:09, Bruce's birthday is February 19th, which was an obvious warning. It was just unclear whether the warning was from the Joker to Batman, or from a competitor to Wayne.
Red Robin neutralized the threat, tied the person up to hand them over to the GCPD, adjusted the reception range of his hearing aid.
Countless sounds rushed into Red Robin's mind like a tsunami.
Red Robin did not have a super-brain, so he was unable to categorize the incoming voices. Therefore, he used the Joker's voice as an anchor, discarding all other sounds, much like piloting a small motorboat through a storm to search for fish hidden beneath the waves.
.. Oh, hee.. It's been a long time since I played games with little Bat..
Found you!
Red Robin mounted the motorcycle.