Chapter 50 Chapter 50 Violence is never the solution to problems...

Elio turned quickly before Reese could answer. When an assassin didn't want to be found, even the best CIA agent couldn't find him in a crowd.

Elio wandered alone among the crowd. His emotions were so intense that he even forgot to put on his sunglasses and hood, and his tears blurred his vision.

Of course he wanted to return to normal! Anyone in his situation would want that, especially after trying for so many years to escape his birthplace, the perpetually criminal Gotham. Elio had once sworn a vow to his parents, wherever they were, alive or not, that when he grew up, he would never turn to crime!

He put everything he had into this. Like a desperate gambler throwing all his chips away, Elio tried to secure a bright, "normal" future for himself.

So, of course, he wanted to return to normal. But he also knew that was impossible. John had meant well in bringing this up, but he was probably unaware of the situation between the Assassins and the Templars. It wasn't a conflict he could just change his name and avoid.

Elio knew about this back when he was "dealing" with the human experiments.

All attempts to return to "normal" are nothing more than an escape from the inevitable fate in the face of this grand and cruel world war.

"Hey!"

It took Elio a moment to realize they were calling him. A boy grabbed his wrist, nearly causing Elio to attack him reflexively, but Elio recovered in time. The assassin lowered his head, staring in surprise at the boy who had stopped him.

He was wearing a red short-sleeved shirt that was one size too big, and his jeans were washed out, but his old sneakers were spotless. The child was looking at Elio, his eyes wandering on his face with confusion.

"What's up, kid?" Elio asked. "Do you need any help?"

"There," the child pointed his finger at the bridge of his nose and under his left eye, "should there be a scar?"

Indeed there should be.

But the scar is always the first thing that people remember, so Elio always takes care to paint it over before going out during the day. Only when he works at night will he deliberately expose it; although this may not fool smart people, to be honest, the first impression is always profound. To this day, there are still a large number of idiots in Gotham who sincerely believe that the guy flying at night is a giant bat monster.

"Oh," Elio pulled his hand away calmly, "You must have the wrong person."

"No, I'm pretty sure that was you last night," the kid said, his eyes lighting up. "My name is Robert Johnson, and you and that other guy in a suit ruined the factory that employed us!"

Elio was stunned for a moment, "...Oh."

This was the first time Elio had directly thanked someone he had rescued, if that was what it was. He remembered John saying his friend would help with the aftermath of these illegally employed child laborers. If nothing unexpected happened, they would probably be placed in an orphanage or something like that.

As a child who had grown up in that kind of place, Elio couldn't help but ask Robert a few more questions. As they talked, they gradually moved away from the crowd.

Also away from the crowd was Reese, who had just finished work.

"He turned me down, Finch," he said into his earpiece. "I didn't catch up with him."

"What a shame," Finch said. "I was quite optimistic about his ability to do the job."

"What kind of work ability do you mean?"

"He had the kind of work aptitude that he clearly stated on his resume," Finch said. "If he hadn't been at Abstergo Hospital... I imagine he'd be working for some prestigious corporation right now, with a bright future ahead of him."

Reese fell silent. At first, Finch thought he was just silently lamenting the situation; Reese was like that sometimes. He didn't express his emotions often, and sometimes even deliberately confused others to hide his true self. But after knowing him for so long, Finch had discovered that he was actually soft-hearted, even sentimental.

But then, something Reese said cheered Finch up. A bad one.

"I think the danger is probably not over," he said. "He didn't do this voluntarily. You didn't see his expression, Finch, but he longed for an ordinary life, but out of helplessness, he rejected me."

"You've kept me frightened all night," Finch paused, his hand on the brewed green tea. "I'm not complaining, Mr. Reaser, but is his danger still not over?"

"If I hadn't found him, he might not have attacked those shops and factories." Reese walked forward, weaving in and out of the crowd. "Remember, Finch? The number popped up before that. Whatever the conspiracy was, it wasn't because he attacked them."

"He's trying to identify his enemy, but his enemy hasn't shown up yet," Finch quickly added. "Maybe he's looking in the wrong direction."

"Investigate further, Finch." Reese pushed through the crowd, searching for Elio. "His danger must come from his past... Investigate the case for which he's wanted. I doubt a man like him would commit such a murder in public."

"I'm doing that, Mr. Reese," Finch said, investigating the details of the case. "But it's a case with the Blüdhaven Police Department. I'm having trouble finding out more about it..."

"Investigate the surveillance," Reese said. "Abstergo Hospital's surveillance. That shouldn't be too much trouble for you, Finch."

·

"It looks like nothing can stop you!" The boy in the red short-sleeved shirt who called himself Robert jumped up excitedly and waved his fist at the air. "Wow! Wow!"

"No, that's not it," Elio said, grabbing his wrist with a smile. "If you want to throw a punch, you have to adjust your posture..."

Before he could finish his words, a thug wearing a baseball cap who was leaning against the road suddenly blocked their way. Elio's eyes turned serious and he took the boy behind him.

"You're blocking our way," Elio said gravely. "Do you need me to ask you to move out of the way?"

"I'm asking you to move aside," the thug scoffed, "You're the ones blocking our way."

The boy huddled against him. Elio put an arm around his shoulders and glanced back, only to see another thug closing in on them. He even had a gun, and when Elio looked over, he pointed it threateningly at him.

Well, Elio thought, this wasn't surprising to him at all—after all, New York was a city that celebrated if there were no shooting victims in five days, not much different from Gotham—and he calmly raised his other hand and said to them, "Okay, okay, I have all the money in my pocket. If you'll let me..."

"Don't play tricks," the thug walked up and touched his pocket directly, "We will support ourselves."

Be self-reliant, Elio rolled his eyes inwardly. If they meant personally taking wallets out of passersby's pockets, then they were absolutely right.

If it weren't for the boy, Elio would have pinned him to the ground the moment he reached out. Elio glanced at the thug holding the gun, who even lowered the muzzle of the gun slackly, staring at the loot his companion had taken out.

"And your watch." He gestured to Elio's raised hand.

"Okay, okay," Elio said, taking off his watch and handing it over. "Just don't hurt us."

Robert, clinging to him, was trembling. He looked up at Elio with a mixture of confusion and surprise in his eyes. "Don't worry, Robert," Elio whispered to him, taking the time to comfort him. "They won't hurt you. I promise."

The thugs scoffed. But they didn't do anything. They just gave Elio a few gentle shoves and didn't touch the child he was protecting. After getting their loot, they even considerately returned Elio's wallet, which contained his credit cards and fake driver's license, and left, contentedly counting the money.

Robert breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly jumped off Elio and said, "Why didn't you beat them up? You could have done it!"

"Yes, I can," Elio patted his shoulder, "but I can't risk them hurting you. I know what impression I left on you last night, but violence is never the only answer to problems."

Robert stared at him blankly, as if he couldn't react to what he was saying. Perhaps it was because the assassins and the black suits had killed a lot of people last night, and their wailing was hard not to be impressed.

"Especially when you have something more important to protect." Elio squeezed his shoulder. "Go home now. I have some things to take care of."

Robert reacted, "You mean those two thugs just now?"

Elio nodded. "Go back, Robert. It's getting dark."

He waved to the boy, but after he turned and left, there was no immediate sound of footsteps behind him.

·

"He's not the murderer, Mr. Reese," Finch finally pulled up the Abstergo hospital's surveillance footage. "I'll send it to you now. It was the hospital security guard who accidentally shot and killed the middle-aged man named Michael Johnson while chasing Elio. Whatever harm occurred in this incident, it's not Elio's fault."

"…He was a victim at the time," Reese said softly, "not a perpetrator. This matter is much deeper than we thought."

"Why would Abstergo Hospital suddenly pursue him?" Finch's green tea had gone cold, but he didn't notice. Instead, he took another sip. "I don't understand why they would do this."

"Perhaps that's why he can't return to normal life," Reese scrolled the progress bar and stopped at the scene where the middle-aged man died in front of Elio. "No one who witnessed death up close can do that."

"Not to mention Abstergo's pursuit of him," the rapidly scrolling documents on the screen were reflected on Finch's glasses. "I now suspect that this crime is a complete frame-up, but the Blüdhaven Police Department can't ignore such an obvious fact... Wait, Michael Robert Johnson, I always feel like I've seen this name somewhere..."

"Wait." Finch suddenly remembered, "It was on the list of child laborers transferred to the welfare home last night! Robert Johnson!"

"Slow down, Finch," Reese said, pressing down on his earpiece. "What Robert Johnson?"

Robert Johnson, named after his father's middle name, once had a happy family, but after the tragic incident at the Abstergo Hospital a few months ago, everything was gone.

The insurance company refused to pay for the unfortunate accident. The mother's salary was not meager, but it was not enough to support the growth of three children.

They left Bludhaven, a sad place, and moved to New York. His brothers and sisters tried to find a way to support the family. Under the pressure of life, Robert gave up his studies and ran around the streets, looking for a job that would hire a short kid like him, even though the boss knew it was illegal.

They were all trying to move on from the tragedy of the past and start a new life. They tried so hard that sometimes Robert thought the whole family had forgotten what had happened.

But when he overhears that Elliot Smith is in New York, Robert discovers that he is not.

How could he possibly get over the tragic death of his loved one? The heinous murderer was still at large, even playing the hero who punished evil and upheld good; he had destroyed Robert's family, his life, and even his hard-earned job!

Social workers soon arrived to investigate. They spoke to his tearful mother about high-sounding things like "child welfare" and the "foster care system," and then cruelly snatched him from her arms, no matter how much they cried and protested the separation!

Robert had never felt his mother's embrace so tight, it even left a circle of heavy bruises on his ribs, but that was far less painful than the tears she dropped on his face.

Nothing could have caused him more pain than this.

All of this!

And the murderer who caused all this to happen was walking openly in the sun, looking rich and carefree, even donning the guise of a vigilante - did he think that his past crimes were far behind him? Did he think that doing a few good deeds could erase his mistakes and atone for his sins?

He must pay for this!

Robert stared at Elio's back as he left and took out a small fruit knife hidden in his pocket.

He lifted his foot. The pair of sneakers he'd cleaned every day before leaving the house rose from the ground, kicking up the dust. It was like starting a sprint on the school track, like rushing into his mother's arms on his way home. Everything around him suddenly slowed down. The New York wind whistled past his ears, and Robert and the tip of his knife rushed straight towards Elio's back.

He was absolutely certain that everything that had happened to him was to blame on this tall assassin who had just protected him from robbers, this vigilante who had just told him that violence was not the only answer to problems, and he was also absolutely certain that his actions were justified revenge.

But while he was doing that—

The tip of his knife stabbed in, just enough to cause a small scratch, and Elio reacted quickly and turned his head with a stern expression; but when he saw who it was, Elio's pupils dilated and his counterattack suddenly slowed down.

Just that moment was enough.

Robert gripped the knife tightly and thrust it in firmly. Layers of flesh and blood were peeled away warmly by the tip of his knife, blooming into bright red flowers of revenge. Only when the handle of the knife pressed against the assassin's skin and could no longer penetrate, did Robert stop, panting.

Elio clutched his wound and slid to the ground. His hand was soaked with blood, and the assassin leaned weakly against a wall covered in colorful graffiti. His hair, wet with sweat from the pain, drooped like thin vines over his green eyes, which stared blankly at Robert.

"Why..." He gasped softly, "Why do you do this?"

Robert looked at him too.

"Because of you..." he choked, "Because of you—"

Only then did Robert realize that tears had already filled his eyes. Footsteps sounded from the alleyway where the sun shone in, and the miserable boy could no longer speak; he lost all his strength and fell to his knees, crying bitterly.