..
It wasn't Batman who arrived, but Bruce.
Bruce left Alfred behind to listen to the doctor complain about the patient's disobedience and running around, while he himself took the diagnostic report to check on Jason in the next room, who had pretended to sleep and ended up falling into a real sleep, before heading to Colt's ward with a nutritious meal.
Two young boys were hunched over a hospital bed, heads pressed together as they squeezed around a single laptop to write an email; one was responsible for speaking while the other did the typing. The patient who was doing the speaking was also clutching a large bag of potato chips, only remembering to feed a chip to his friend after stuffing three into his own mouth.
Bruce watched silently for half a minute, confirming that there was no gloom or fear on Colt's face, that he was much like usual, then he quietly closed the door and cleared his throat.
The two children turned their heads at the same time.
Timothy nudged Colt with his elbow. Colt blinked, his eyes instantly clouded with tears, the rims turning red. He pouted, tossed aside the bag of potato chips, threw himself at Bruce with flailing arms and legs.
Bruce leaned down to catch Colt, showing no disdain for Colt using his expensive custom-made suit as a napkin to wipe his mouth, only reminding him, "Swallow what's in your mouth before you speak."
Colt wiped his mouth clean, swallowed the potato chip, recalled how he used to cling to Batman's leg and act spoiled when he was six years old, before beginning to whine, "Bruce, how could you come so late? I didn't see you when I woke up, I was so scared. I only slowed down for just a tiny bit, the Joker almost succeeded.. Is he really dead? He is the ultimate villain, the embodiment of chaos, how could he die so easily? Am I dreaming?"
Timothy exchanged a glance with Bruce, stepped forward, took the thermal lunch box, placing it on the round table.
Bruce knelt in front of Colt, placing his hands on his shoulders and looking into his eyes, answering seriously, "He is dead. I am certain of it."
Colt slowly exhaled, his shoulders slumping as his expression turned vacant without even needing to feign it. "He really is dead.. the whole world was helping him, even the gun jammed; I had to burst my Small Universe just to pull the trigger. Is this the kind of thing Batman resists every day? It feels like the entire world is against me, like there's something pulling at my feet, a quagmire I can't escape, a darkness that can swallow a soul.. It's absolutely terrible."
Yes, resisting the fall is difficult, but giving up is easy." Bruce looked into Colt's eyes. "Did killing him give you satisfaction? Does the feeling of holding someone's life in your hands like God does fascinate you?
Colt should have shaken his head, but he couldn't lie under Bruce's gaze; he could only answer truthfully, "There wasn't enough time back then. I was worried that if he didn't die, I'd emptied the magazine and the spare magazine, then I was busy being terrified of cutting the wrong wire and causing the bomb to explode, while wiping away the blood, I was worried the blood itself was poisoned.. But the moment I saw you arrive, I felt very relaxed, it felt very satisfying. Because Jason is still alive, the Joker is dead, so no one will die or be paralyzed because of the Joker anymore, you won't have to be so sad and in pain.."
Bruce hugged Colt tightly.
Colt snapped out of it and turned to look at Timothy, feeling flustered and panicking in his heart: What should I do? I haven't even cried yet, but Bruce seems to be crying?
Timothy glared at him, giving him no hints at all.
I was wrong." Colt admitted his mistake first whenever he was at a loss, patting Bruce's back as he said sluggishly, "I'll write the self-reflection.
A 5,000-word self-reflection, promise me, never again try to solve problems by taking another person's life." Bruce's voice was hoarse. He released Colt, his moist eyes looking at the boy in front of him. "Listen, Colt, I know it's a shortcut; killing someone can make complex matters simple. It's like performing surgery to remove a tumor from a cancer patient; it seems to have no downside. But you cannot get used to this; you will have a brighter future. You want to be President, you want to lead your classmates and your friends to reshape the very ground beneath your feet, so do not let yourself become a part of the darkness. If you cannot lead by example to resist darkness and evil, then what difference will the world you create in the future have from this one?
In recent years, Colt has rarely mentioned "I want to be President," choosing instead to replace those words with practical action. Leveraging his age, he has begun by influencing the peers around him, attempting to spend the next few decades forging his own era. The adults have observed his efforts and no longer treat his dreams as a joke.
"I promise you." Colt nodded slowly but solemnly.
..
The nutritious meals made by Alfred were very light in flavor, Colt was eyeing the Cookies in Timothy's hands.
“You have a constitution prone to cavities; you should eat less sugar.” Timothy folded the cookie bag and stuffed it into his backpack, refusing to share even a single piece.
Colt ground his teeth. He wasn't sure if it was just an illusion, but his molars felt a bit sore. Having lived the life of a vagrant for the past few days, his personal hygiene had been terrible, he had been eating nothing but high-sugar, high-calorie foods, only able to rinse his mouth and use dental floss.. Could he be getting cavities? It shouldn't be that bad; he had checked carefully when he brushed his teeth just now, the color looked normal, with no signs of decay.
Fearmongering." Colt accused Timothy of being disloyal, but he still didn't snatch the Cookies, stating, "I don't even like eating sugar.
Bruce returned after finishing his task and clapped his hands. "Alright, kids, pack up. I'll take you all home."
"Aren't we observing anymore?" Colt put away his phone. He didn't have much to pack; the clothes he was wearing were still Timothy's, so he just needed to grab his backpack. Timothy, on the other hand, had brought a whole bunch of things, as if he were planning to stay in the hospital long-term. Colt helped him carry his most precious computer.
The results are all in, all your physical indicators are normal." Bruce paused. "If you need psychological counseling, you are welcome to come talk to me anytime.
Colt shook his head to indicate that he was perfectly healthy and did not need a talk, then he took control of Timothy's computer and demanded quite brazenly, "Tim, you're coming to stay at my house. I'm going to copy your homework."
Bruce acted as if he hadn't heard anyone mention copying homework. He simply picked up Timothy's suitcase and, seeing Timothy's posture, he knew this kid wouldn't let Colt act alone lately. In fact, Bruce also preferred to have the more mature and steady Timothy keep an eye on Colt, but Timothy's methods were still a bit immature and he couldn't keep Colt in check. The nano-locator that had sent Jason into a rage was very useful; Colt deserved to have one.
On the ride home, Timothy stuffed the camera and photos into Colt's hands, along with even two rolls of undeveloped film.
I told Joseph and Alisa that you went to Central Park to photograph migratory birds.
Duck Detective, you're so thoughtful, I love you so much." Colt hugged Timothy, only to let go the next second. "Wait, you hacked my phone again? You even know the IP of the scheduled messages I sent them is in New York!
Be more proactive with your reports next time; don't waste my time." Timothy pulled another folder from his backpack, which seemed to be a bottomless treasure trove. "Joseph might not believe you. If he questions it, just quietly show him this and say you went to attend an important meeting of the Classmate Mutual Aid Society. By the way, ask him to help improve the virtual reality interaction technology. More and more people are joining the Starry Society, our virtual town is becoming insufficient.
Colt put away the folder and deliberately picked a fight, "What if he still doesn't believe it?"
Timothy had one contingency plan after another. He then pulled out a quill and a small crystal vial. "Then you just say that your trip to New York was actually as a representative of the Starry Society to discuss cooperation with wizards. This is a Magic Potion that even ordinary people can use; it protects teeth and prevents cavities."
Colt's eyes lit up.
Bruce observed the Magic Potion in Timothy's hands through the rearview mirror and interjected, "How did you two get in touch with the Magic World?" In Batman's files, wizards of the Magic World were extremely old-fashioned and xenophobic, looking down on ordinary people and being even harder to communicate with than the mages of the Sanctuary.
"Last year, a classmate received an admission notice from the Magic School. His parents were worried that a mage might be a mutated Mutant, so I accompanied him to meet the magic teacher, then we met," Colt replied.
Colt is very good at making friends, all kinds of friends, can always win the love and trust of those around him.
Colt also possesses a kind of magical charm that can infect his peers, making them positive, proactive, sunny, confident.. As batches of students from Gotham Elementary disperse into various middle schools, becoming leaders who influence their classmates, Gotham's new generation gives Batman a glimpse of hope.
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Author's Note: IF side story, when we grow up together, the daily life of childhood sweethearts.
Colt did not encounter any tribulations and grew up surrounded by love, possessing a personality much more cheerful and lively than in the main text.