Professor Shearer's assessment of the students' homework could hardly be called instructive; it was more akin to spewing venom, thoroughly altering his image in the minds of Helen and others.
It turns out that it wasn't because Professor Shearer was naturally even-tempered in life, but rather that he vented all his anger in the classroom, leaving him in a stable mood the rest of the time.
After the class ended, Shearer thought those few would have scurried off, but to his surprise they were still waiting for him at the door.
Shearer sighed, packed up his lecture notes, and Helen walked over to pat him in a mock mature manner, saying, "Don't be angry, Professor, getting angry makes you age."
Shearer looked over and noticed that they didn't have any fearful expressions, nor were they like Robin's team, who would want to dart miles away at the sight of his frowning face.
Robert stretched lazily and said, "Good thing I didn't go to college; I wouldn't have been able to write it either."
Nightingale said somewhat helplessly, "It's not exactly a difficult assignment; you really can't write a few hundred words for a short essay, you're indeed not cut out for university."
"Alright, Professor, don't be angry," Squirrel Girl also came over and said, "It is indeed wrong for students not to submit their homework, but since you've already criticized them, they will surely do better next time."
The reason Shearer was angry was precisely because he knew it wouldn't be better next time. If the majority were hopeless cases, he wouldn't have fretted, but most had an attitude problem.
Many were not lacking in ability; some even wrote quite well. But whether it was spelling mistakes or citation errors, these were blunders that wouldn't occur if they'd been more careful. One rotten apple spoils the whole barrel.
However, this was the first time someone had come to comfort him. Normally, everyone would rush off as quickly and as far away as possible when seeing him angry, and this did help to smooth his temper significantly.
"Go have a look around the school; I have to go host a meeting for graduate students," Shearer said, silently adding to himself, "And get even angrier."
The following meeting was not smooth sailing either. A week had gone by without some students having progressed with their papers, their work untouched from the previous corrections. Others, whose writing was poor to begin with, only made it worse with their revisions; and some who had initially had decent drafts had taken a wild turn, making everything a mess.
After two hours of meetings, Shearer was almost at a loss for words and could only wave them off, telling them to get lost.
If it wasn't for the fact that supervising more graduate students meant extra subsidies, Shearer really wouldn't want to take on so many; yet, the subsidies having been received, he still had to fulfill his responsibilities, forced to sculpt even out of rotten wood.
Back in his office, Shearer collapsed into his chair, his spirit wandering for quite a while.
Not long after, the vibrant youths of the New Warriors Team came bursting in. Shearer only found out upon asking that during their halfway visit to the science museum, they saw people playing downstairs and joined in a rugby training match.
Robert, also known as "Speedball," even without using his superpower, was adept at rugby. Nightingale was well-trained, Squirrel Girl was the jester who could play anything, and Helen was as tough as nails; together they triumphed, overjoyed with victory.
After taking a moment to recover in his office, Shearer felt somewhat better, went downstairs to fetch his car, and the group headed for Wayne Manor.
On the way to Wayne Manor, Helen kept fiddling with a small blue object in her hand. Shearer thought it was her toy until he took a closer look and realized it bore a resemblance to Victor's compact ice.
"This the portable cooling device Victor talked about? Do you feel colder?" Shearer asked, turning to her.
Helen shook her head and said, "It doesn't feel that cold to the touch, but it does indeed make my arm feel a bit cool. Though they say making it bigger would compromise its portability, if it remains this small, it can only affect an area as big as an arm."
Shearer took the small ice block from her hand and found, as Helen said, the cooling effect was limited to the forearm. It was slightly cool near the head, but in terms of combating the current heatwave, it was virtually useless.
If they could successfully develop it further, it might indeed turn a profit, but it wouldn't do much to alleviate Gotham's climatic issues for the time being.
Maybe because significant effects would require large-scale application, Victor didn't have the funds to experiment; after all, money is the ultimate barrier, even for heroes.
Upon arriving at Wayne Manor, even before they stepped inside, they were greeted by an odd, tantalizing aroma. Helen couldn't resist any longer, ditching her ladylike composure, and dashed into the manor.
"What smells so good?!" she asked.
When Dick saw a little girl approaching, he instinctively stepped forward to intercept her, but to his surprise, Helen didn't get knocked over. He looked closely and realized it wasn't Aisha.
"Dick!" After calling his name, Helen said, "What did Grandfather Alfred cook? Why does it smell so amazing?"
"A local delicacy from your universe that you brought back, haven't you tried it?"
Helen shook her head and immediately ran into the kitchen, finding Alfred frying steak. It looked ordinary, but for some reason, it was incredibly fragrant.
Shearer approached, and Jason greeted him. Jason looked unchanged, except Tim appeared rather pale and listless.
"What's up with you?" Shearer asked, looking at him.
"Tim's hurt; he hasn't fully recovered," Jason said. "To be precise, he was close to death and is still recuperating."
Shearer frowned slightly and taking a seat across from Tim, he asked, "What happened? How did you get so badly injured?"
Although Shiller hadn't interacted with Tim as much as he had with Jason, he had still watched him grow up and knew very well that this boy was the shrewdest among the Robins. Dick and Jason were both very protective of him, so it was unlikely for Tim to get hurt.
Tim opened his mouth, but Shiller noticed he seemed to have difficulty speaking, so he didn't ask further and instead said, "Did you bring back some local products? Where are they?"
"Alfred is already preparing them," Jason said. "I think you can eat more, Professor, it tastes quite good."
"Is it food?" Shiller was surprised. The food culture in both cosmos was similar; could there really be something to eat that didn't exist here?
"Some meat and mushrooms," Jason continued. "The meat is dragon meat. I'm not sure what kind of dragon exactly, and the mushrooms seem to have grown on some fairy or deity, said to enhance spiritual power."
To Shiller, Jason's words sounded utterly nonsensical, yet they perfectly fit the peculiar style of that other place.
After Jason left, Shiller sat next to Tim, poured him a cup of hot water, and asked, "Are you okay? Didn't you go to the hospital to check?"
Tim yawned and said, "Actually, my injury has almost healed. I just haven't slept for a few days."
"A few days?"
"Three days... uh, four days? Definitely not more than five."
Seeing him fiddling with his tablet, Shiller asked, "Are you handling all the work for Wayne Enterprises by yourself? Shall I send someone to help you?"
"No need," Tim refused outright, then realized he might have sounded a bit stiff and added, "Well, it's just some ordinary HR adjustments, no big issue."
Shiller could tell he was holding something back, but he didn't inquire further. After all, it was an internal matter for Wayne Enterprises, and Shiller felt no pressing need to dig deeper.
The meal was ready quickly, and as Shiller had anticipated, Alfred prepared a vast array of dishes. Though it was Western cuisine, the variety of flavors and attractive presentation were enough to make one's mouth water. Even Shiller had to admit that Alfred might be the best cook in England.
One of the main dishes caught Shiller's attention. The meat was darker and displayed coarse fat marbling, clearly not ordinary beef or reindeer meat. It must have been a part of some giant creature.
Shiller cut a small piece and tasted it. In an instant, he felt like he was going to turn into a fiery dragon himself.
He coughed several times, and Alfred said apologetically, "Sir, I didn't put any chili peppers in it. The meat itself is spicy, but I still suggest you eat more of it, as it's beneficial for your health."
Shiller guzzled down several large gulps of water. He wasn't completely adverse to spicy food, but this meat was just too hot for him.
From the side, Jason chuckled, "We were overwhelmed by the spiciness at first too, but you get used to it after more bites. Eating this meat can enhance one's muscular strength. If you finish that piece in front of you, you'll be almost as strong as a Hercules capable of dragging a truck."
Shiller exhaled deeply and said, "I'm not interested in pulling trucks."
"You certainly wouldn't want to be hit and sent flying by a truck," Tim said, eating as he spoke. "I can't handle spicy food either, but you wouldn't want to know how I got injured."
"I can imagine," Shiller said, understanding Tim well. Such an overly clever kid was likely harmed while getting involved in the action.
The others were enjoying their meal, especially Helen. She gobbled down the piece of meat on her own plate and eyed others' plates eagerly. If it wasn't for wanting to make a good impression on the old housekeeper, not a single piece of meat would have escaped her Magic Claw.
Alfred, clearly fond of children with hearty appetites, served another large piece of meat to Helen. She hugged the old housekeeper and kissed him. Shiller was worried Alfred might be so delighted that it could trigger a heart attack.
Aisha sat beside Shiller, not nibbling on her plate this time but looking rather preoccupied. Shiller asked her, "What's wrong, Aisha?"
"I haven't seen Selina in so long," Aisha sighed. "I know she's busy working, but I miss her."
"What's Selina been busy with lately?" Shiller asked Dick.
"She's busy earning money," Dick said. "Performing all over the world, and she has to join a film crew next month."
"Is she in need of money?"
"Who isn't short on money these days?" Jason chimed in. "Her good friend Maggie has been unwell and hospitalized for months now. Unfortunately, she has no insurance, and Selina has been covering her hospital bills all this time."
"Why are there so many people with health issues lately?" Shiller frowned and said, "Cobblepot's mother has also been having lung problems, undergoing treatment and convalescence with no significant improvement. The doctor advised a biopsy, and Cobblepot is still considering it."
"I think it might be due to climate change," Tim said, still multitasking between eating and using his tablet. "Gotham certainly had many problems before, but the locals have lived here for decades and are accustomed to the weather. Sudden changes, even for the better, can cause maladjustment."
Shiller had also considered this, but it seemed absurd that people lived just fine with the chemical and water pollution in Gotham and now that the pollution was gone, they were unaccustomed.
He knew, however, that Selina's friend Maggie had always been unwell. She used to be wheelchair-bound and rarely went out, managing only to make some handicrafts to sell at stalls.
Cobblepot's mother had mental health issues, and her physical health wasn't great either. As the years passed and she aged, people with pre-existing health conditions faced various problems with climate change. The saying that a frayed rope always breaks at the thinnest part rang true.