blogombal Chapter 110 Flying Grayson
Chapter 110 Flying Grayson
Chapter 110 Flying Grayson
When Batman woke up again, he found himself lying peacefully on the same sofa that old Thomas had been leaning against while taking a nap.
Beside the shattered coffee table, a penguin paced back and forth, muttering to himself incessantly:
"What should I do? What should I do? Why isn't he awake yet...?"
Batman practically sprang up from the table instantly: "How much time has passed? Penguin?!"
The penguin was startled by this sudden turn of events, but at the same time felt a sense of relief.
"About four to five hours? I'm sorry I gave you another dose of naloxone... but the situation is really urgent right now."
"Thank goodness you're finally awake. Listen to me, you have to stop it..."
"I know!"
Batman, of course, knew what the penguin butler was thinking, and he was certain that his thoughts were aligned with the other's:
"That old bastard definitely didn't just want to kill the Joker, he wanted to kill himself!"
"Give me the phone!"
Bruce snatched the phone from the Penguin and dialed Cyborg's listening frequency:
"Steelbow, teleport!"
Before the light from the teleportation facility inside the watchtower had faded, Batman, still dressed in a suit, dashed out of the teleportation point and headed for the equipment room.
Unlike Joey and Starfire, who nearly died in the crossfire, Batman deactivated his communication devices when he changed out of his suit.
However, it seems that we shouldn't be so concerned about privacy at times, because that communication device is also a simple vital signs detection device.
Without that thing, Cyborg and Watchtower wouldn't have been able to detect his unconsciousness immediately.
This directly resulted in me wasting more than four hours!
"Cyborg, where is Superman? I need him to help me find someone."
"I reckon Superman is too busy for the time being."
Steel Bones stood in front of the center console, idly tapping on the keyboard. Ever since regaining his other half, he had begun to enjoy this inefficient way of operating the machine again.
"He's busy..."
Eye thud!
A loud metallic clang echoed throughout the watchtower, interrupting Steelbone's speech and accompanied by a slight tremor.
Steelbone shrugged helplessly and pointed towards the storage room:
"He's been banging on that for ages. Can't someone go and tell him to stop? If he keeps this up, the entire foundation of Gotham might sink!"
In the distance, Joey was wielding a giant hammer in a corner of the watchtower's storage room, while Wonder Woman was using bellows to fan the flames of a furnace.
This is the blacksmith's hammer of Hephaestus, the ancient Greek god of fire, and his complete forging equipment, including the furnace.
The property of the Olympian gods somehow ended up in the hands of the previous Justice League.
Even Wonder Woman couldn't help but marvel at just how powerful the Justice League of another universe must have been, leaving behind such a rich legacy within the Watchtower.
But what struck her even more was Joey's waste of talent:
"That was Naboo's helmet, imbued with supreme divine power, and you just crushed it?!"
Joey, swinging the hammer down once more, wiped imaginary sweat from his brow, then leaned closer to the anvil to examine the golden metal fragments more closely:
Has it softened?
I don't think so.
Wonder Woman, who was already out of breath, stopped pressing the bellows; her clothes were soaked with sweat.
The flames billowing from the bellows were the hellfire of Tartarus. The Amazon queen, still a creation of the Greek god-king, could not remain calm in the face of such flames.
I think so too.
Joey bent down and peered closely at the broken metal piece, almost pressing his entire face against it to examine it closely, and came to the same conclusion:
"Not even a single atom's position has changed!"
It's no wonder Joey cursed; he'd been knocking for six or seven hours and couldn't accept this fruitless result.
The fragments of Doctor Fate's helmet were still in Joey's arms; he just wanted to make use of them and forge them into a small piece of protective gear.
It provides itself with a reliable and stable source of yellow solar radiation, much like the Arc Reactor it previously used, or the armor Kara wore.
It seems that this plan may be difficult to achieve at present.
Perhaps it's a problem with the materials, or perhaps it's a problem with the magic, or maybe it's a problem with the user.
The hammer of Vulcan and the hellfire of Tartarus could not harm these few pieces of N metal in the slightest.
At this point, Joey had clearly entered a phase where he couldn't bear to give up his sunk costs, and was now locked in a struggle with the fragments of the Helmet of Fate.
"Diana, make the fire burn brighter, I want to knock it a couple more times!"
*Thump!* *Thump!*
"If Superman doesn't have time, then we can only rely on you, Cyborg."
The situation is urgent, and Batman doesn't have time to unravel the mystery any further.
In this emergency, the world's best detective, Batman, chose to skip the deduction process and go straight to the surveillance footage:
"Cyborg, help me pinpoint the location of that old bastard, or the 'Joker'."
"it is good."
Without even asking who the "old bitch" Batman was talking about was, Cyborg stopped typing and immersed his entire consciousness in cyberspace.
He got the answer he wanted in no time:
"Location complete. The Old Bat and the Joker are very close. According to my calculations, their distance will be reduced to within one kilometer within two minutes..."
"No matter where they plan to meet, teleport me there quickly!"
A cylindrical beam of light flashed, and the fully armed Batman vanished from his spot.
A light shone, and Bruce appeared on a green field on the outskirts of Gotham City.
The air was filled with laughter and cheerful chatter, and Bruce was certain he had stumbled upon an amusement park or something similar.
He observed the stalls scattered around him and the bustling crowd, and couldn't help but frown:
"There are too many people!"
There were so many people at the scene that Batman's sudden appearance was almost inconspicuous.
Bruce doesn't even want to imagine how many innocent casualties would result if the Joker and the old Batman clashed here.
While he was still pondering whether to call for backup, a child came running over with a bucket of popcorn.
Bruce instinctively dodged, but his cloak tripped over his opponent, sending the popcorn bucket flying into the air.
It was about to spill all over the ground.
After thinking for less than a second, Bruce decided to reach out and save the popcorn bucket from danger.
They let the reckless little boy fall face-first into the mud.
"Wow!"
The little boy, who had taken a solid fall, was immune to the injury with his characteristic childlike resilience. He immediately got up and noticed the popcorn bucket resting steadily in Batman's hand.
"Ha, you're amazing! Thank you for saving my popcorn, Batman cosplayer!"
Batman had encountered far too many troublesome kids in his life, so he knew he should have saved Popcorn first.
"Remember to be careful next time..."
When Bruce handed the popcorn to the little boy, he saw the boy's face, which was covered in dust, and his words faltered.
"Ti...Tim?!"
"You know me? But I don't know you!"
Tim Drake, still a boy under ten years old, quickly reached out and took the popcorn, then cautiously took two steps back.
"You're wearing this bat mask. I don't know who you are. Are you a friend of my parents? They're over there not far away. Maybe you should go and talk to them."
Each Robin is not only Batman's assistant and sidekick, but also Bruce's child.
The third-generation Robin, Tim Drake, is the most intelligent and quick-witted of them all.
"No, no need. Just remember to have fun, Tim!"
Bruce waved and watched Tim skip and hop away happily.
The world isn't all that bad, Batman thought to himself.
At least one of my children is still living a happy and fulfilling life.
Batman is preparing to connect with Cyborg to have him organize reinforcements to ensure safety on site.
A loudspeaker on a huge tent in the distance began broadcasting across the open space:
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Harry's Circus! Tonight's performance promises to be another thrilling spectacle! Stay tuned!
"Oh my god."
Even the usually composed Batman is now unable to describe all that he has experienced today.
These seemingly real yet undeniably real people and events evoked subtle emotions I had never felt before.
The staff turned on the power switch, and the giant tent dome in the distance and the colorful lights on both sides emitted a dazzling light, illuminating the entire circus sign.
And the most eye-catching line of large, cursive characters at the very top of the signboard:
[The Flying Grayson Family!]
Grayson—this is the Grayson of the original Robin, "Nightwing" Dick Grayson.
Batman knows all the stories of his children and apprentices. Apart from Tim the Third Robin, the other three Robins all have a painful past.
"Flying Grayson" is a circus acrobatic troupe that is well-known throughout Europe and North America. The members are Dick before he became Robin and Nightwing, and his entire family.
Their signature act is "trapeze," an extremely dangerous performance that requires fearless courage and perfect skill; a mishap could lead to certain death.
The catalyst that led Dick Grayson to become Robin was the accidental death of his parents during a trapeze performance, a night in which Timothy Jr. happened to be present.
The three elements of "Flying Grayson," a young Tim Drake, and Harry's circus, when combined in Batman's mind, could only lead to one conclusion:
If nothing unexpected happens, tonight in this universe will be the night Nightwing's parents die.