Chapter 52 Chapter 52 I just care.
The flashlight startled the creatures in the darkness. They scurried away from the spot where the beam passed. The homeless man sleeping by the fire nearby didn't react much, but they did glance at them, and those glances exchanged among the group, whispering to each other...
Why would this guy, who looked like he belonged to the upper class, appear in such a place?
Ten-year-old Elio looked up, bewildered, at the adult who had spoken to him. He snapped his notebook shut and tucked it into his arms, warily eyeing the stranger. The flashlight was too bright for Elio to make out his face, but he could clearly discern the material and quality of his clothing. When he turned off the flashlight, Elio realized even more clearly that this man, wearing a trench coat wrapped around his shirt, trousers, and leather shoes, did not belong here.
"Why do you care?" Elio asked tentatively, looking at the adult's eyes hidden in the black curly hair in a subtle way. The eyes, whose colors could not be distinguished in the darkness, raised their heads, and the light of the campfire flashed there.
"That's all I care about," he whispered. He rolled up the hem of his trench coat and squatted down in front of Elio. A black mask obscured his face, and the curls of hair that fell on either side of his cheeks obscured his features, but Elio could clearly see his deep green eyes.
Under his gentle gaze, Elio unconsciously opened his mouth wide, and his eyes were extremely similar to the visitor's. The notebook slipped from his hand and was accurately caught by the adult.
"I know your name," he said softly, "I know why you are here, and I know your next move. I won't stop you, but if you want to continue your journey through the night of this city, you will need my help."
Elio stared at him and the hand he extended.
"Come with me, Elio," he said. "Don't stay here."
Elio was not an obedient and easily fooled child. True, he was quiet and his greatest hobby was squatting in a corner reading. Even the childcare workers, who had seen all kinds of children, thought he was a well-behaved child who would not cause trouble - until one morning, they found Elio's bed empty.
He is not the kind of kid who likes to cause trouble. But once he decides to do something, he will pursue his imaginary goal madly and desperately.
No matter how foolhardy it might seem.
So the child looked at the adult squatting in front of him, an adult he had never met but who claimed to know him thoroughly - without even a candy or a coin, just because their eyes looked so similar, Elio boldly stretched out his hand to him.
As he did so, Elio realized his own hands looked dirty, with dust and dirt hidden under his nails. The adult's hands were clean, with clear palm lines and round nails. Elio hesitated as he was about to put his hand on them. But just as he was about to pull back, the stranger took the initiative to shake his hand—even tightly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Elio, I..."
Elio didn't know what was wrong with him. He suddenly burst into tears, knelt on one knee in the sewer, and held the stiff Elio in his arms.
·
"So what did you mean by apologizing to me just now?" Elio said. "What did you do to me?"
"For a ten-year-old," said the adult who called himself Smith, "you are incredibly perceptive."
"That just proves my guess is right, Mr. Smith." Elio insisted, "Besides, Smith? Seriously? This pseudonym is so fake!"
Their conversation echoed in the sewer pipes. Smith remained silent, but Elio heard his own voice questioning him over and over again, stomping his feet in anger. The sound of water suddenly intensified, splashing Smith's trouser leg. The adult walking beside Elio, deliberately slowing down his pace, glanced down at him.
“…I’m sorry,” Elio whispered. “I didn’t mean to.”
"I know," Smith said. "That's all right."
No matter how hard Elio guessed, he probably couldn't guess that Smith was his real name. What he couldn't imagine was that Smith knew his plan literally. After stealing his exclusive welfare file from the file clerk's office, Elio finally learned about his parents' information -
Although, that was the news of their death.
They died in a car accident eight years ago, and he was the only one who survived the scene.
A few days later, Elio sneaked out of the orphanage. He used a public computer to look up news reports about the day's car accidents and, after investigating, pinpointed one of them. But that was the limit of what the free library and public computers could do. Only recent file reports were publicly available on the police department's online inquiry system. The car accident from eight years ago was long gone, unless Elio bravely broke into the Gotham Police Department and looked through the dusty files that the officers had tucked away somewhere. But that was impossible.
He's not Robin!
The clues seemed to stop here. Elio tried every possible way to find the car accident report from eight years ago in the newspaper, trying to find a little information from the clues.
Who were his parents, and what did they do? Was there a conspiracy behind this that would allow him to attribute his abandonment to an accident, to a criminal hidden behind the whole thing; would allow him to shed tears and clench his fists, vowing to avenge his parents and punish the culprit who had destroyed his life from the beginning?
…Can he find a reason, an excuse, a channel to vent?
Elio flipped the newspaper too quickly and accidentally tore a crack. He sighed in frustration and looked around, trying to find a handy tool to stick the newspaper together. At this moment, a boy happened to pass by behind him and saw everything.
"I..." Elio met his gaze and immediately explained with a blushing face, "I didn't mean to do that! I'll go find the administrator right away!"
He had just jumped off his chair and was about to run to the administrator who was dozing behind the counter when the boy stopped him.
"Are you investigating something?" he asked, looking over Elio's shoulder. "A car accident from eight years ago?"
Elio stopped leaning forward. He slowly stood up, newspaper in hand, and studied the boy who had stopped him expressionlessly, trying to discern his intentions. The boy noticed this, turned his gaze back, and gave him a friendly smile. "My name is Tim, I'm one of the founders of the Gotham Elementary Mystery Club and a big fan of detective novels. I'm guessing you're a bit of a geek, right?"
Oh, there was a good chance he'd misunderstood what Elio was doing. And Elio wasn't even close to him.
The blue-eyed boy who calls himself Tim has a well-proportioned body and a ruddy complexion (evidently he has no worries about food and clothing). His black hair is a little messy in front of his forehead, but under the light, it has a beautiful luster of well-maintained hair (the halo of money, ugh), not to mention his soft and fitting red hoodie, blue jeans, and a pair of brand new and clean gray sneakers.
Elio, with his baggy clothes, thin figure, and gray sneakers, was a far cry from him. It was obvious that they did not belong to the same class.
But then again, Elio didn't have to refuse him. Elio wasn't stupid.
"My name is Elio," he said, holding the newspaper and nodding seriously at the rich young master. "Our activity this week is to find out information about the car accident that happened eight years ago and the truth behind it. Are you interested?"
"Great," Tim said excitedly, "I've been waiting for you to say that."
They put aside the newspaper issue, which was just a minor problem with the tape. Two fuzzy, dark-haired heads huddled together at a computer, studying the car accident. After Elio described his current impasse, Tim looked from the blurred license plate number in the newspaper to the color image on the computer.
"I know a website," Tim suggested. "You don't even need to register an account. You just enter the license plate number and it'll give you basic info about the car—you know, ownership records and stuff."
Elio didn't understand, but nodded immediately, looking at Tim with sparkling eyes.
"Most importantly, it can check the car's accident record." Tim reached for the keyboard as he spoke, but he didn't forget to politely ask Elio, "Can I?"
"certainly."
"I think it's this website," Tim quickly hit the last enter key, "Yes! New Jersey, Gotham City, the license plate number is-"
Elio then announced, "VEN739."
He stared at the string of letters and numbers that appeared on the screen. And just like that, with Tim's help, Elio had obtained the accident records. The public information wasn't completely comprehensive, merely providing a general overview of the accident, vehicle information, and a vague age range for the driver. But it was enough for Elio to follow up on the clues and investigate further.
This is when "Smith" stepped in. As expected, after gathering all the information, Elio would go alone to the scene of the accident and gather intelligence nearby. In the process, he would inevitably encounter obstacles that could easily lead to injury or bleeding, but with Smith, everything would be different.
He climbed out of the manhole and reached down. Elio grabbed his arm and lightly flipped up, landing on the ground. Smith responsibly replaced the manhole cover, his windbreaker rustling in the night breeze. Elio stood beside him, stretching his arms and legs, watching his movements, hesitant to speak.
"Are you going to tell me why you're helping me?" Elio asked finally. "Honestly, I doubt you know more than you're letting on."
Smith stood up straight, turned around, and without saying anything, he touched Elio's head. Elio staggered when he touched him, and after he stood up, he quickly adjusted his hair. He stared at him in disbelief and protested, "What are you doing?!"
"Sorry," Smith said rather insincerely, "and 'No.' Let's go."
Before he could finish his words, he started walking away. Elio had to jog to catch up with him, and considering Smith's speed in the sewer just now, Elio was almost certain that he was doing it on purpose (whether it was avoiding the topic or avoiding the matter of touching his head).
"Then at least tell me how you knew I was investigating the car accident!" Elio pressed. "When did you notice me? When I opened that website? Or when I left the orphanage?"
Smith suddenly stopped. Elio bumped into his back, feeling a slight pain on his forehead. He rubbed his forehead, but all his thoughts vanished the next moment when he saw a yellow-green figure soaring through the sky.
"That's Robin!" Elio screamed softly.
He's the idol of all the kids in Gotham!
"Yes, that's Robin," Smith said, pulling out a little boy Elio had just seen from the shadows in front of him. "So what are you doing, kid? Don't make excuses, I heard your shutter sound."
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The author has something to say: Oreo: No wonder Alvin always likes to touch my head, it feels really good.
ps I finally got my hands on Nightwing () A new book has been pre-collected, playing with the stalk of the assassin and Nightwing both having dual identities, and neither party knows each other's other job at night. A short love story based on this, I guess it won't be too long (because I really want to write a simple emotional flow)
If you are interested, you can take a look at the column ~ The copy is as follows:
[UK and US General] Do you also have a dual identity?
As both a student of criminal sociology and a member of the secretive Brotherhood of Assassins, Julian thought his investigation in Blüdhaven was going well.
The only problem is, the city's superhero, Nightwing, seems to have his sights on him, and his new boyfriend, Dick Grayson, isn't impressed.
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