Chapter 53 Chapter 53 He would never say anything that would harm...

Timothy Drake felt like he might not be very lucky today.

It all started when he climbed out of his bedroom window. The rain earlier that day had left a dangerous puddle outside the windowsill, causing him to slip and fall, attracting unexpected attention. Fortunately, he managed to deceive the crowd by mimicking a cat's meow. Furthermore, criminals were active that night, and as Tim carefully made his way through the alley, he was nearly noticed by some homeless people exchanging money and powder. Fortunately, he was prepared.

(As for why a little boy of seven or eight didn't just curl up in his soft, warm bed and sleep peacefully, but instead broke out of his bedroom at night and broke into the most dangerous and complex alleys in Gotham, and even managed to evade pursuit so skillfully - don't ask.)

Before they could even look up, Tim had already scrambled over the wall and was gone. He'd scraped his elbow against the wall and scratched his palm while trying to hold on, but he was lucky not to be caught. Besides, his night's running wasn't in vain.

He photographed Robin!

(Yes, that's why.)

For a moment, Tim thought all the minor setbacks of the night had made sense. He'd gotten a clear picture of Robin! Who else could do that?! He was so lucky!

But he never expected that the next moment, he was picked up by a hand that suddenly appeared from behind him.

"What are you doing, kid? Don't try to explain, I heard your shutter click."

…Well, maybe he really wasn't lucky today.

It sounded like the voice of a young man, aged between 18 and 22, with an error of no more than two or three years; the tone was brisk, not at all heavy, and it didn't sound like there was any malice towards him, but it would be bad if there was. After all, there was a clear gap in the fighting power between adults and children. What's more, Tim thought he was a genius (among his peers) at dodging and anti-tracking, and yet he actually spotted him at a glance.

"Uh, I..."

Tim, subconsciously protecting the camera in front of him, started thinking quickly, still trying to decide what to say and what not to say. He turned his head hesitantly, his raised collar hiding his lips but not his eyes, which suddenly widened.

The reason was simple. Behind the man who was carrying him, a head not much taller than him appeared. It was the same face he had seen during the day.

"What..." The boy who called himself Elio rubbed his forehead and looked at him in confusion, "Tim?"

"Elio?" Tim looked at him uncertainly.

The two kids who had just met at the library were caught off guard by the night in Gotham. Back then, they were both dressed neatly and respectably, but now, one had just emerged from the sewers, the other was covered in dust and even had bruises on his body. They stared at each other in confusion and bewilderment.

"...Do you know each other?" asked the voice above Tim's head.

There was an eerie silence. The only adult present glanced between them and let go of Tim, who had been kicking in his arms.

"You know each other." He said affirmatively.

"Uh," Tim pointed to the camera strapped to his chest, "after-school activities."

"Yeah," Elio glanced at Smith standing aside, "me too."

No one questioned the other's excuse. Although it didn't make sense at all, it was hard to explain why these two kids were wandering the streets of Gotham late at night, and they looked so disheveled, it didn't look like they were doing anything serious; but because they both had something to hide, Elio and Tim exchanged glances and tacitly agreed with each other's explanation.

"Seriously? Extracurricular activities?" Smith was the only one who spoke. "Okay, if you insist. But whatever you're doing, Tim, it ends here. Do you want me to take you home?"

Before Tim could think of a way to refuse, Elio suddenly coughed loudly, quite deliberately making his presence felt. Tim fell silent, his gaze darting between the two black curly-haired creatures, one large and one small. Smith glanced down at Elio, who tilted his head back, his expression innocent.

"What's the matter, Mr. Smith?" Elio said. "It's all right. Just leave me here. I know the way back."

What's going on? Tim wondered.

He couldn't help but glance at the big curly-haired guy who was wearing a mask, revealing only a pair of eyes. After a brief moment of hesitation, the latter raised an eyebrow at the little curly-haired guy, "Are you acting like a spoiled child to me?"

"What?" Elio suddenly raised his voice. "I—"

He didn't finish his sentence, probably realizing Tim was still there. It was his turn to glance at Tim, but just then an idea struck the young detective.

"Do you mind if I join your 'extracurricular activities'?" Tim raised the camera on his chest. "Maybe I can help you take pictures or something."

Elio looked puzzled. But he didn't refuse immediately, and Tim happened to remember the car accident he had helped Elio investigate that day; it was obvious that there was something else behind it, and he, the future world's number one detective—well, maybe the number one should go to Batman, so he could be second—maybe he could use his 142 IQ to uncover the truth behind the incident.

I'm not bragging. My IQ is 142.

"I'm not sure we need photos," the adult said, studying him for a moment. "Especially when the help comes from a kid younger than Elio. Honestly, even I'm a little confused—no offense, but why would a child so young think they can roam freely in Gotham at night, unharmed?"

"I'm sorry, I'm deeply offended," Elio said expressionlessly.

"Oh, actually, I'm a little confused," Tim asked politely, "Why would I find my friend hanging out with a strange adult late at night, and I'm somehow worried about his safety, especially considering the terrible social situation in Gotham?"

"Wait, I'm your friend?" Elio interrupted. "When?"

"From now on," Tim confirmed.

Elio was speechless. He turned his head away and stopped talking, while Smith was silent for a moment and suddenly laughed.

"All right, that's all right with me," he said. "I can look after both of you at once. Now, let's go and try to get this over with before daybreak."

He tilted his head as he said this, and Tim felt that the movement was familiar, and began to search through his memory library for similar movements. Elio followed up first, "Why before dawn?"

"Because kids your age need plenty of sleep," Smith said. "Honestly, be a little concerned about your future height."

"That's why Robin should be worried first," Elio muttered, "I always felt like he was out all night."

"Yeah, so he didn't grow taller."

Tim was about to ask how far their investigation had progressed when he suddenly stopped talking. He glanced suspiciously at Smith's back, then at Elio, who was walking beside him. A wild guess formed in his mind, but he put it aside for now due to lack of evidence.

"You're the one taking the picture of Robin, Tim," Smith turned around. "Do you think he's grown taller?"

Elio looked at him, too. Tim fell silent. Robin was the young hero he had long admired, a towering, awe-inspiring figure. He would never say anything that would tarnish Robin's image.

"First of all, I wasn't secretly filming Robin," Tim said righteously. "Secondly, he always flies over very quickly. Even when he's sitting, he's often moving around lively. I rarely see him standing there motionless..."

Smith turned and said to Elio, "He doesn't know."

Elio nodded. "I thought so."

…This was all a necessary sacrifice for Robin. Tim silently clenched his fist, accidentally pinching the wound on his palm and hissing. Smith's ears twitched, and he turned his head quickly as if he had heard a siren, and discovered this.

"You're injured," he said, reaching into his windbreaker. Perhaps because it was too dark, they hadn't noticed it before. Then, Smith miraculously pulled out a small bottle of iodine spray, some gauze, and even a small roll of medical tape. Just as he was about to say it wasn't serious, Tim swallowed his words and asked, "...Wait, how did you manage to fit so much stuff in your windbreaker?"

"How did you get hurt?" Elio asked. He took the things from Smith's hands and clamped Tim on both sides. Unfortunately, Tim was defeated and had to obediently hand over his wounds that were still bleeding. "I just jumped down from the wall, and then...hiss!"

Elio, who was squeezing his arm, said insincerely, "I'm sorry."

Smith, who was spraying iodine on his wound, also said, "I'm sorry."

Tim was strangely silent. After treating his wound, Smith stuffed the things back into his windbreaker. Tim observed it carefully, and his pupils trembled.

It wasn't because he noticed the holster under Smith's armpit, as it was normal to carry a gun when traveling at night in Gotham; it was because the sharp-eyed little detective noticed that there seemed to be a black cylindrical object with a pull ring in the inside pocket of his windbreaker. The ominous-looking little gadget happened to be turned upside down by something else, and after Smith touched it, he just pressed his fingers down casually, and then pulled up his windbreaker.

Tim's vision was blocked. He looked up and saw Smith's eyes, hanging on the mask, looking at him with a half-smile.

"You're welcome." He said meaningfully.

Tim sweatdropped, "…thank you."

Tim felt helpless. He feigned composure and turned to look at Elio, who, oblivious to the situation, pulled a neatly folded map of Gotham from his notebook, unfolded it, and shook it solemnly.

"We're very close to our destination," he pointed out. "Two blocks away is where the accident happened."

Tim instinctively looked in the direction of his finger. At that moment, they all heard a gunshot, followed by a series of explosive gunshots - exactly from that position.