Chapter 1672: Oblivious to Death (35)_1

"I've heard about you." Red Robin began, looking at Spider-Man. "... It's all good things. You've done a lot of good in Gotham in the past few days, and made quite a stir. Almost everyone in Gotham knows that the Batman has a somewhat noisy new assistant."

"Uh, am I that famous?" Spider-Man scratched his head.

"What are you standing there for? Why don't you come and sit down?" Red Robin's gaze fell on the sofa.

Spider-Man, standing behind the couch, took a small step back. He swallowed and said to Red Robin, "You might not believe this, but I have a danger premonition feature, and right now, it's ringing louder than ever since I came to this odd city."

"You think I'm dangerous?"

"I don't want to be rude, but would you mind telling me who in this city isn't dangerous?"

"You're more surprising than I thought." Red Robin shook his head, seeming a bit disappointed.

The young man, who looked like a regular classmate of Spider-Man, had an icy and aggressively piercing gaze that made Spider-Man's hairs stand on end.

Spider-Man quickly rolled behind a chair as his Spider-sense warned him. Two gleaming darts were now embedded in the floor where he had been standing.

"I thought I'd see a younger version of Batman." Red Robin stood expressionless in front of the sofa. "Considering his fondness for you, and that he thinks you might make a perfect Robin, my assumption isn't too far-fetched, is it?"

"I..."

"I can see he really likes you." Red Robin scanned Spider-Man's uniform, sending a chill down his spine.

"Wait, let me explain..."

"He has never given such praise to anyone in the Batman Family," Red Robin said, looking into Spider-Man's eyes. "In nearly ten years, he hasn't been able to choose a perfect successor from among us, even though we've been close to him, learned from him, and desperately wanted to become him."

Spider-Man lowered his hands, standing in place. He felt he could hear sadness and disappointment in Red Robin's voice. Normally blaming himself for any error, he could only respond, "I'm sorry, I really... I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have accepted this uniform."

"It's not about the uniform, Batman shouldn't trust someone who has only been in his presence for a few days. He definitely shouldn't bring them directly into the Batcave. And what he really shouldn't do is let you roam around in his Gotham, making such a big name for yourself. Those of us who have done that in the past have all been told to get out."

"Maybe he just..." Spider-Man took a deep breath, then said, "Listen, I didn't mean to disrupt your relationship. He just said he needed a partner, and I wanted to help. I think he's a hero, and no hero should be alone."

Red Robin lowered his eyelids, pursed his lips, and then said, "I just hope that your presence truly satisfies him."

Spider-Man dropped his shoulders. He couldn't respond to this heartbreaking sentence and completely forgot why he had come to reprimand Red Robin. He simply stepped forward and spread his hands.

"He is like a father to you, very strict, maybe he simply can't express himself and it's not that he's dissatisfied with you, as you believe. My being here is just a coincidence, and whether you believe it or not, I have to go home eventually."

"You want me to commend your plan to abandon him one day?"

Spider-Man again lowered his arms, sighed, and then said while watching Red Robin who had turned away, "If my arrival hurt you guys, I'm very sorry. Maybe I can't fully understand your relationship, but I've just been trying to do whatever I can."

After finishing speaking, he took a few steps back, stretched his hand back, and fired a spider silk onto the wall of the building opposite.

After Spider-Man left, Batman looked at the scene in the room. He saw Red Robin standing next to the sofa in silent despair and didn't utter a word about the situation in Gotham, given the gloomy atmosphere.

Just like what Red Robin said, he had never given any accurate answers to anyone in the Batman family. So he knew better than anyone else that "you will become Batman in the future" was not a blessing, but a curse. A wicked curse, and no father could curse his child like that.

Perhaps these innocent birds knew that becoming Batman wasn't good for them, but they were willing to fly into the flame for some love and recognition, even if the disasters they would face could not be compared to the rewards.

Batman admired this simple dedication, but he never responded. Eventually, his black cloak disappeared into the equally dark Gotham night, as silent as ever.

When both Batman and Spider-Man left with heavy hearts, Red Robin, who was still standing there in sorrow, glanced around and then rushed to the telephone with a quickness and agility that was completely different from his previous slow and gloomy actions. He said into the phone.

"It worked. I fooled both of them! And they won't bother us for a while. Morbid's 'host is a guest' ruse worked quite well."

"...Alright, I got it. Be careful on your side. Penguin should reply to me tomorrow."

The Red Hood hung up the phone, while Nightwing turned to him and asked, "So, can he handle Batman?"

"Don't worry, even if I don't trust Tim, I trust Shiller. Before we came back, Tim insisted on meeting with Professor Shearer to reveal his morbid side. Do you think the conversation between them could be pleasant?"

Nightwing frowned and said, "No matter what lies Tim has told, Batman shouldn't be tricked that easily, should he?"

The Red Hood glanced at him and said, "The most deceptive lies in this world are the truth... That's what Shiller said."

After that, they both turned their gaze back to the ground beneath them. They were squatting on the side terrace of a mansion roof in the upper city area, looking at the bustling scene in the ballroom below, their eyes focused on one figure.

The man was tall and was wearing a lead-gray linen suit. His wine-red paisley tie had a Windsor knot. His Ivy League style was distinct. He was dancing in the dance floor with an older lady.

"Lincoln March." Nightwing said out his name and narrowed his eyes at March, "Even with two Tims working together, they couldn't find the specific source of his election funds. He's definitely suspicious."

"We should find out why he's so interested in Bruce Wayne. Could it be that his last name is also Drake?" The Red Hood theorized, crossing his arms.

Nightwing rolled his eyes a bit, "Does that mean if he goes to Wayne Factory to change a tire someday, he'll take your last name, Todd?"

Just as the Red Hood was about to argue with Nightwing, Nightwing pushed him and pointed at the scene inside the window, "Look, the waiter. Yes, the one who is serving wine to March now."

"He has something in his hand." The Red Hood said, frowning.

Both figures disappeared from the terrace almost instantly. About ten minutes later, the Red Hood dragged the unconscious waiter he choked to the side of the door and Nightwing began to search him.

This kind of work was Robin's specialty. After a short while, Nightwing found something amiss.

"His teeth are too straight, and there are no worn marks on his fingers. More importantly, there are no signs of long-term standing or heavy walking on his feet. He doesn't look like a server."

"He gave March a note. I'm guessing it's not to pass on any urgent messages, but it's very likely to tell March to rendezvous somewhere."

The Red Hood let go of the server, looking at his youthful face, "They're using these trainee strapping young men as disposable message-passers. Whoever's behind March is no ordinary business organization. They're either involved with organized crime, politics, or worse, some combination of both."

"We need to keep an eye on March." Nightwing also stood up and glanced at the server lying on the floor, "Aside from preventing him from winning the election, we need to dig out the secret behind him."

"I suspect he's hiding a huge secret." The Red Hood took out his gun, unlocked the safety and loaded the bullet then said, "I hope my shooting skills haven't rusted. Let's go."

The dawn in Gotham was a gunmetal grey soaked with dampness. A man in a black overcoat got off a cab and went to the nearest cafe to buy a cup of coffee. He then stood by the street corner with endless darkness engulfing the alley beside him.

The well-dressed elite didn't notice this unassuming figure in the alley as they hurriedly passed by. Dressed impeccably and carrying a briefcase, Lincoln March had walked to the end of the street, knocking on the antiquated door of a mansion here.

As the mantis stalks the cicada, oblivious of the oriole behind, just as the overcoat-clad man holding the coffee cup was about to hurry out of the alley, two figures jumped down from the roof to stand in front of him.

"John Constantine, why have you come to Gotham?"

The Red Hood took the lead and blocked the only way out of the alley for Constantine. As Constantine was about to turn around, Nightwing walked over from behind.

Seeing that there was no way out, Constantine sighed, took off the hat on his head, looked at the Red Hood with his somewhat tired eyes and said "Alright, kids, will you guys let me go if I give you some candy this time? Don't go telling Batman that I am in Gotham again."

"What do you think we are, chatterbox sparrows?" The Red Hood said, folding his arms, "Speak quickly, why are you here? Or else, I won't need Batman to beat you. I can do it right now!"

Constantine was already accustomed to their rudeness, he sighed deeply and said, "I know you won't believe me if I say I have some serious matters to deal with. But I am truly not here for a tour, I have business. Don't block me, I'll explain it to Batman later."

The Red Hood narrowed his eyes, turned his head towards the direction where Lincoln March disappeared. He advanced two steps, using his burly body to force Constantine to retreat. Then he demanded.

"You better tell me the truth, Constantine. Are you here for Lincoln March?"

Encroached by Red Hood's sudden terrifying demeanor, Constantine blurted out, "How did you..."

The Red Hood revealed a triumphant smile, then he whispered, "For once Tim was right, imitating Shearer's morbidity did come in handy."