Superhero Exchange System [Comprehensive British and American]

Tim wakes up from his bed in the Batcave.

His whole body hurt like hell.However, the moment he woke up, all the things - the Scarecrow, the Riddler, Director Gordon... rushed into his mind in an instant. He wanted to get up from the bed, but he found that he was full of tubes and blindfolded. Thick gauze—he was so weak now that he couldn't control his body at all.

"Master Timothy." Alfred's voice came from beside the bed.His voice sounded so old.

"Foo? How long have I been in a coma? How's Gotham? Where's the gas bomb?"

Alfred mumbled at the corner of his mouth, but he was unable to speak.The catwoman next to him answered for him.

"I saved you. You almost died. Fortunately, you survived. It has been 24 hours since the gas bomb exploded."

"Gotham..." Catwoman paused. "One in five people in Gotham is dead."

Tim gripped the sheets tightly.For a long time, none of them spoke.

"Selena," Tim said, his voice laced with subdued, overwhelming sadness. "Please go out for a while. I want to have a few words with Ah Fu alone."

Catwoman was gone, her boots clicking on the tiles, and she closed the door behind her.

Tim's lips moved. He tried many times, but couldn't get the words out.

"Master Timothy." Alfred burst into tears. "It's not your fault, even Master Dick, or even Master Bruce, can't do better than you."

"No. No, Ah Fu." Tim shook his head in pain. "Batman will do better, he will be ten times better than me, a hundred times better."

Tears streamed from Tim's eyes, soaking the bandages.

"I'm so bad." He broke down in tears. "I'm too weak."

Timothy Drake was in bed for ten days.The poisonous gas destroyed his eyes and body, and his eyesight did not return to half of normal level until ten days later.Even so, on the day he took off the bandages from his eyes, Red Robin resumed his night watch, and crazily destroyed his body with a more decisive attitude.Every time he came back from the night patrol, he was covered with wounds all over his body. As soon as he returned to the Batcave, Tim sat in front of the monitor, letting the blood drip from his body and didn't care.Alfred had to forcefully press his young master to sew up his wound.

"Master Timothy." Alfred said while stitching Tim's wound. "According to your request, the second branch building of the Wayne Group has also been opened today to treat patients in the East District. All the medical equipment of the Wayne Group has also been donated."

"Fortunately, the medical staff on board did not inhale too much poisonous gas." Alfred cut off the sewing thread at the bottom of the knot. "The medical resources in Gotham City are not oversaturated."

"That's because there are too few people who can be rescued." Tim still stared at the screen of the Batcave without looking back. "Many people died the day the gas was released."

Alfred sighed.

The loyal butler packed up all the medical supplies, and when he left the monitoring room, he looked at Tim at the door:

"Master Timothy, please don't feel guilty for what you can't do."

The only answer to him is the click of Tim's rapid typing on the keyboard.

Three months have passed since the gas was released.

The city of Gotham is also slowly recovering from a severe sore.This change took many people away from Gotham one after another, and the rest were devastated.For a time, all the cemeteries in Gotham were full, and many people had to throw the bodies of their deceased relatives into the sea.However, Gotham is still shrouded in an unknown barrier, and the scarecrow's mysterious space props are still in effect today.Some of the corpses thrown into the sea floated back to Gotham City along the barrier.

Some angry people piled up the dead bodies at the gate of the police station.

"It's all the police's fault!" they yelled loudly, "You were the ones who failed to stop the scarecrow's poisonous gas in the first place! You killed our family!"

"Is it our fault?" A young police officer couldn't help being scolded for more than a month. "We have also lost countless people! There were more than 20 people working here before, but now? Now there are only three people left!

You want to hold us accountable, I want to hold Batman and Robin accountable, who said to protect Gotham forever!What the hell is the other person doing now..."

"Tino, shut up!" Sergeant Gordon shouted.

The young man shut his mouth, his eyes still red with anger and sadness.

"Listen." Sheriff Gordon slowed down.His face was bandaged, and the gas permanently lost his right ear and eye. "It's not anyone's fault. No one is to blame for it, except the criminals. Come on, we're going to be busy again."

Even if the city's casualties haven't stopped the criminals from making a comeback—they lie dormant in Gotham like sewer rats, only to resurface when the time comes.

Timothy Drake is getting busier.There are more and more things he needs to worry about, the Wayne Group's donation to Gotham Medical and Welfare Institute, the supply and production of food after Gotham was closed, the development of antidote,

and more and more year-round crime.

He works endlessly like a spinning top.

Not even Alfred could persuade his Master Timothy to go to bed.Timothy Drake is just as paranoid as Bruce was at the age of 16, and he can't listen to anyone now.

Even his closest relatives.

Alfred walked into the monitoring room with milk and cookies, and saw Master Timothy fiddling with a tube of medicine—the medicine was a viscous turquoise color.Next to him was a cage of little white mice.

"Poison again?" Alfred asked casually, putting milk and cookies in front of Tim.

"Strengthener." Tim pointed at the analysis screen without looking back. "Ah Fu, I want an Americano."

"It's bedtime now, I think milk is more suitable for the growth and development of teenagers." Alfred responded kindly.

Tim grunted dissatisfiedly, and this was also a rare expression of his juvenile expression these days.Tim ate a cookie, then put on his gloves, took a mouse from a nearby cage, and injected a third of the drug into the mouse.

At the moment of injection, the little white mouse let out a sharp cry—then the mouse gradually swelled up in front of Tim and Alfred, and the docile eyes gradually revealed a fierce light.

Alfred was taken aback. He took out the pistol from the wall and pointed it at the little white mouse—it would be more appropriate to call him a little monster.The mouse swelled to the size of a full-grown Maine Coon cat, but when Alfred tried to shoot, Tim held him down.

"Don't shoot, Fu," Tim murmured, his eyes blazing wildly. "Look, this potion is highly compatible with mammals, has no side effects, and has a muscle strengthening rate of 320%..."

"Master Timothy." Alfred raised his voice unconsciously, "This is not a good sign."

Tim seemed a little roused by Alfred's voice.He glanced at Ah Fu strangely, "Yes, not good, there are still defects."

At first, Alfred didn't think this incident would be serious. He thought it was an occasional absurd attempt by Master Timothy, but after three days, he watched his Master Timothy pour the same potion into his body When he was injecting, the tray in his hand fell to the ground with a "boom", and the exquisite Bohemian style teapot and cup shattered to the ground.Alfred rushed towards Tim like crazy. He wanted to hold Tim's injecting hand, but he was horrified to find that the boy had already injected the medicine into his body.

He watched the boy scream and hunched over, watching the boy's rapidly expanding body tear through all his clothes.

"God..." Alfred fell to his knees, "God..."

"Ah Fu..." The boy in front of him stopped growing, and his body has become twice the size of a normal person.Those muscles are almost more exaggerated than that of Superman.He turned his head and looked at Alfred with red eyes from the medicine:

"I'm fine," said Timothy Drake.There was a frenzied gleam in his eyes, and his voice was hoarse and broken.

"This year, I've never felt better."