Chapter 12 Chapter 12 He has at most fifteen seconds to climb up...
Ms. Green's original name was Amelia Foster. Although everyone called her Ms. Green after she got married, she still preferred her maiden name.
The surname Green is so common!
While Foster is common, it's not as common. She prefers to be called "Ms. Foster," and more importantly, Batman calls her that, too.
Who would have thought that she, an ordinary middle-class person in Gotham who looks the most inconspicuous, is a member of The Watch!
This means that when she discovers something unusual around her that involves illegal activities, she can contact Batman. She is Batman's informant! All members of the Watch are.
They all noticed something unusual like that from time to time. Living in Gotham, it was hard not to notice some criminal activity, just like in the ocean, it was hard not to notice a school of fish swimming by. It happened all too often.
It’s just that some people choose to join, some choose to ignore, and some choose to stand up.
They didn't dare to "really" stand up. At least Miss Foster didn't dare. Before Batman showed up, she had always had to choose to ignore it, with her collar turned up, shoulders hunched, and walked away close to the wall, pretending not to hear anything and not to see anything.
"I just want to survive, that's all," she would tell herself.
But deep down, she couldn't help but imagine, if I could stand up...
If I were a hero...
But she knew better than anyone that she wasn't. So she remained silent for a long, long time, crying in her dreams for the people and things she could have saved and changed, then waking up the next day and wiping away her tears, continuing her life as if nothing had happened.
There's nothing you can do about it, that's just how Gotham is.
Until Batman showed up. Strangely enough, he was dressed so scary and terrifying that when Miss Foster first saw him, she was so frightened that she fell to the ground, unable to move. But Batman helped her up and even gave her a big piece of chocolate.
"It's okay, ma'am," Batman said in the softest voice she had ever heard, "You're safe."
Miss Foster trembled with fear, but subconsciously began to chew the chocolate. It was a sweet milk hazelnut chocolate. It was so sweet that it made her cry.
"Wait, Batman!" She didn't know where she got the courage to stop the vigilante who was about to fly away, "I have something to tell you!"
The chocolate must have restored her strength. Trembling, she recounted what she had discovered, asking Batman to investigate when he had time. A few days later, she saw a news report about child trafficking at a Gotham orphanage. While her classmates were horrified by the crimes, she quietly smiled.
Batman had found out. She knew that.
After a while, she joined Batman's secret informant organization.
So when she started working at Gotham City High School and noticed some strange large transfers from the school and some students' frequent absences, Miss Foster became keenly aware of something. She reported this clue to Batman. Although she didn't know if it was really as she thought, Batman said that if he found them innocent, it would be worth celebrating.
"Never be afraid to ask me," Batman said.
Miss Foster agreed with him and asked him to sign the words on the title page of the book, but the moment she lowered her head, Batman disappeared again.
Batman is such a shy guy, Miss Foster thought. But he's also always been gentle.
After her kidnapping attempt, Gotham Police Department officers arrived and took them to the hospital. Miss Foster only suffered minor injuries and was released quickly at her insistence. Batman contacted her afterward.
"This might not be a coincidence," Batman reminded her, "You need to be careful."
"Don't worry, Batman," Miss Foster said confidently. "I'm a native Gothamist. I always keep my pistol within easy reach."
Even when opening the door for a deliveryman, she would keep her hands on her hips. Not to mention someone she couldn't recognize through the peephole. But when she opened the door today, Miss Foster was bewildered.
It wasn't because the person knocking on the door wasn't a pizza delivery man, a courier, or a property manager. He looked like a young student who hadn't yet graduated, holding a bouquet of flowers and smiling shyly.
"I'm back in Gotham working at Wayne Enterprises, Ms. Green," he said happily. "I wanted to share this good news with all my former teachers, but I couldn't find you at City High School. Other classmates told me you were on vacation at home these days—I'm sorry, am I being too presumptuous? Do you still remember me?"
He spoke like one of Miss Foster's former students, and he looked like one, too. His clear green eyes were filled with anticipation, which made Miss Foster feel guilty, as if not being able to remember his name was a great sin. Miss Foster hesitated for two or three seconds, then decisively and calmly let him in.
"Of course I remember you," she said, smiling. "Come in, child, I'll pour you a cup of tea. . . . Why, I'm so glad you came to see me, why did you bring flowers?"
She invited the student to sit in the living room and slowly poured a cup of hot tea. The name seemed to be on the verge of coming to mind, but it was still a little short. Fortunately, the young man sitting on the sofa was still excitedly discussing how lucky he was and how much he looked forward to joining the Wayne Group. Miss Foster couldn't get a word in, so she just smiled and frantically tried to recall the name of this face.
"How have you been these past few years, Ms. Green?"
Finally, the young man seemed to realize he had talked too much and awkwardly changed the subject. He picked up the cup of tea and took a sip. "Is everything okay?"
The young man raised his green eyes, which reflected the ripples on the surface of his tea, and looked at her with what seemed to be concern.
"Everything is fine," Miss Foster said, picking up the flowers he had brought. "Do you mind if I put them in the vase now?"
"Of course not," the young man said with a smile, "it's an honor for him."
He asked some more questions with concern, and Miss Foster answered them while she was trimming the branches of the flowers with scissors. When he asked Miss Foster if she had gone anywhere during her vacation, she answered them casually.
"I think so," she gathered the wet branches and leaves and carefully placed the flowers in the vase. "I heard that there's a new island in Blüdhaven, and the children have been clamoring to go there for a long time."
"Then why didn't you go?"
"My husband wouldn't let me. He said I was terrified and needed to stay home for a while." Miss Foster couldn't help complaining when she mentioned this. "It was just an unsuccessful kidnapping case. It wasn't a big deal. The doctor said I wasn't seriously injured. It wasn't as serious as the last time I fell headfirst into the snow while skiing—"
"Kidnapped?!" the young man exclaimed, "You were kidnapped before? When? How did it happen?"
"Just four nights ago," Miss Foster said, bringing out a vase from the kitchen, "about an hour after school was supposed to end. It wasn't even dark yet! They had the nerve to do it in the street, covering our heads and stuffing us into the car—"
"us?"
"Yes, there's a little girl." Miss Foster sighed and stroked the delicate petals. "After I woke up in the hospital, I asked about her whereabouts. But the police seem to have not found her yet. Poor girl, if only her brother had come to pick her up earlier..."
Miss Foster fell silent, remembering something. She glanced at the young man sitting there, who also did not speak, but lowered his head as if deeply moved.
"...Who could have done this?" he muttered to himself sadly. "What's the point of kidnapping a little girl..."
The young man lowered his head and saw his reflection in the tea. Graham and Willow disappeared on the same day. It was said that Graham had disrupted the human trafficking operation of the Quinn Gang, and the latter was kidnapped on her way home from school. It was hard for him not to have some bad associations.
He held the cup of tea in both hands, trying to warm his cold fingers. Miss Foster looked at him and suddenly an idea struck her.
'Elio!' she finally remembered, 'His name is Elio!'
She remembered this figure with his head bowed. Back then, he was just a little boy, sitting quietly reading in the library corner—a neglected corner of the orphanage. She had been a volunteer there and had also taught the children a few lessons...
Wait. She wasn't married at the time. It shouldn't be "Ms. Green," it should be "Miss Foster."
Miss Foster frowned.
But it's also possible that he found out along the way. He might... uh...
I took a lot of effort to find teachers who had been volunteers at the orphanage.
Miss Foster put her hands behind her waist and slowly took a few steps back. This seemed a little strange. Elio looked up with a look of concern, and suddenly his eyes widened.
But he was looking behind her.
There were several creaking noises from the window behind Miss Foster. She turned and saw a large gecko lying there, reaching in to open the window. Miss Foster immediately drew her pistol from her waist and fired a few times at the gecko. With a scream, the gecko fell down.
There were several large holes in the glass. Miss Foster's heart was pounding, and before she could lift her finger from the trigger, the bullets flew out. A slight numbness crept up her arm, through her shoulder and into her heart.
It seemed to be a humanoid figure, Miss Foster realized belatedly.
"What is that?" she cried.
Panicked, she glanced back at the sofa. The young man was still standing there, holding several throwing knives between his fingers, staring at her in astonishment.
“…That’s a man,” Elio raised his hands as she moved the gun closer, “and he’s not dead.”
"What?!"
Miss Foster moved the gun back and forth, then remembered that the magazine was empty.
"He fell onto the terrace on the seventh floor—and is now on the tenth." Elio twirled his throwing knife and stared out the window. "Ms. Green, hide immediately. He has fifteen seconds at most to climb back up."
But Miss Foster did not do that. She looked at him deeply, took a few decisive steps forward, and dragged him into the study without question.
"As long as you are my student," she locked the door, "I will not let you face this alone."
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