Metropolis Police Department.
Although Wayne Enterprises had invested heavily in the GCPD, the decor there was no different from any other building in Gotham, appearing oppressive with a hint of classical Gothic taste. In contrast, the Metropolis police station exuded a more modern feel. Baia noticed the city, just a stone's throw away from Gotham, seemed particularly favored by the sun. Standing inside the police station, the clear sunlight streaming in gave her a sense of calm rather than tension.
Baia hadn't even reacted; one moment she was being whisked through the air by Superman, and the next she found herself standing inside the police station. However, Superman seemed to sense that something was amiss, so he brought the driver along as well.
After obtaining consent, the young girl who had become exceptionally obedient since meeting Superman skillfully dialed a phone number.
Tim answered immediately, but the next moment, the phone was ruthlessly snatched away by Bruce.
"Uh, bro," Baia paused, tilting her head as she began, "I'm at the station."
Casting a nervous glance at the man floating in mid-air with crossed arms, Baia added, "Superman brought me."
To Baia's surprise, a low, angry voice emanated from the other end of the line: Bruce. "What did you say?"
So, she patiently repeated herself, "Dad, I'm at the station. Superman brought me."
The smile on Tomorrow's Child's face gradually froze.
With super hearing, Superman naturally couldn't miss the overly familiar voice on the other end of the phone. Suddenly, he realized that the girl wasn't admitting fault to her parents; she was ratting him out, plain and simple. And she even said it twice!
Bruce said, "Give your phone to Superman."
Clark's final stubbornness prevented him from taking Baia's phone. He didn't want to face Bruce at all; instead, he just looked at Baia with a completely innocent, dazzling smile, trying to regain some favor.
But Batman obviously had great confidence in Superman's super hearing. Regardless of whether Superman took the phone or not, he warned him in a hoarse yet calm voice, as if it came from hell: "Clark."
For Clark, connecting all the dots wasn't difficult. First, Tim mentioned a female family member he had never heard of, then the "bro" and "dad" just now. So, it had to be her.
Once the situation was linked to the family of nocturnal animals, the girl's violent tendencies were also fully explained.
He was just an innocent, justice-seeking good guy; he shouldn't have to face this kind of thing. Clark thought sadly.
Baia sorted out the causes and consequences at the police station, but because both she and the driver stuck to their stories and couldn't provide any proof of identity, she was temporarily detained. The driver, on the other hand, had bigger problems. Soon, the officers discovered that the taxi had been stolen for a long time and might be connected to multiple robbery and murder cases. So, Baia didn't receive too harsh treatment.
Later that evening, a dowdy, hurried-looking journalist arrived at the police station. He was dressed in an ill-fitting suit, wore a pair of black-framed glasses, and was tall but somewhat shy. He used his three-month salary to bail Baia out of the police station. The officers still needed to know the identity of this unknown person, and Clark was a little worried, trying to guide Baia to recite her social security number, but Baia had no idea what that was.
She just sat obediently throughout, looking at Clark with a naive and ignorant gaze.
Clark almost forgot that just a few hours ago, she was threatening criminals with a knife—a tradition of the Bat family.
In the end, it was Drake, dressed in a suit, who parachuted into Metropolis and brought Baia's full set of documents to resolve the issue.
"You can go," after checking the documents and with the somewhat imposing presence of Timothy present, although the officers still found it hard to believe her identity, they disillusionedly said, "... Miss Wayne."
They found a nearby small shop and sat down. Baia told Tim about the events of the past two days and showed him Talia's knife. When Baia made a standard starting posture and pulled out half of the blade, one-third of the people around nervously looked over, and Tim quickly stopped her, realizing that every time Baia sought praise, the timing was always off.
"How's Damian?" Baia probed.
"Um, he..." Thinking of the ferocious Damian, Timothy couldn't help but furrow his brows, "he'll be fine." Honglou Hairdressing.
That was too optimistic a statement.
Baia: "Um, I was really scared at the time. It was just a reflex, not intentional..."
"It's okay, you did great," Tim comforted her gently. "Much better than we could have imagined."
But his unconditional reassurance made Baia feel a bit uneasy instead. She leaned in suspiciously, trying to observe any clues from Red Robin's facial expression.
Taking a sip of his latte, Tim knew he had to broach the next topic. "Well, there's something Bruce wants you to stay in Metropolis for a while."
"Why not let me go back to Gotham with you?" Baia's voice softened, attempting to coax. "I really know I messed up, I won't run around anymore, I won't go anywhere, just stay at home, really."
Seeing Baia look like this despite his calm tone made Tim feel uncomfortable. No one wanted to abandon her or deprive the girl of her freedom to travel. This wasn't right, even for superhero family members. He didn't know if she was being too conscientious or just pretending—ironically, the latter made him feel a bit more relieved.
Tim sighed, reaching out to ruffle Baia's hair. To his surprise, he found her hair much shorter, with ends like they had been gnawed by a dog, all messy. Although he hadn't supported Baia having too long hair for nocturnal activities, seeing the girl like this, he couldn't help but feel sorry for her, not knowing how much she had been through.
"No one blames you," Tim struggled to comfort her. "It's just that Gotham... the situation is special right now. As soon as we sort everything out, we'll bring you back to the manor. I promise."
Indeed, she was still being excluded. Baia's shoulders slumped.
"I know what you're thinking," Timothy propped his chin up, looking straight into the girl's eyes. "It's not like that. We know you can help, and if we need you, I'll come find you immediately, okay?"
Baia turned her head away. "If you say so, what else can I say?"
The World's Second Greatest Detective sensed something off about her mood. Even the World's Greatest Detective showed a similar posture when he was angry. Turning away, he left her with only his back.
"Um... I brought you a gift, would you like to see it?" Tim tentatively suggested.
Tim knew Baia would be downcast, it was expected. She had always been eager to help in any way, and this was obvious.
After all, she was still a little girl. Baia, who had just turned her head away from him, couldn't resist her curiosity and immediately focused her attention. "What is it?"
A hair accessory, a little flying swallow encrusted with turquoise and white diamonds, with a pink diamond clutched in the bird's beak. It was small yet dazzling, cut precisely into 58 facets, shimmering with dazzling fire inside like a burning heart.
Tim had originally intended to have a brooch made, but that seemed a bit too old-fashioned.
"I thought...!" Baia's eyes lit up.
As the girl lunged forward to grab it, Tim mischievously lifted it out of reach.
"I thought this diamond had already been returned to its rightful owner," Baia exclaimed after a moment, realizing Tim was teasing her, standing there with her hands on her hips.
"Indeed," Tim nodded. "But Bruce got it back through legitimate means."
Giving Baia a loose diamond wasn't a good idea, so Tim had it made into a hair accessory.
Tim helped Baia put on her little swallow. "Keep it safe, don't lose it. It has some other functions too."
If Tim hadn't installed a tracking system inside, then he wouldn't be Red Robin.
Though it shimmered, it wasn't particularly conspicuous, the blue and pink colors interspersed among her black hair, resembling a swallow flying through the night sky.
"I arranged accommodation for you in Metropolis. Shall I take you there?" Tim glanced at his watch.
Baia shook her head. "I don't want to go now. I still have some... um, personal matters to attend to."
At the Metropolis Police Department, she noticed an additional small dot on the mission map.
Tim smiled. Sometimes, he couldn't figure out what their little witch was thinking. "Okay. If you have any problems, just give me a call."
"Can you come to see me often?" the girl asked softly, crossing her arms and lifting herself slightly onto her toes as if casually. "I'll cook for you."
If I have time, Tim originally wanted to reply like this, but he felt it was too perfunctory, not living up to her expectations.
He nodded gently. "If you want me to."
Gotham now wasn't conducive to swallows flying; the midnight raptors watched keenly, murmurs echoing from the owl-nested crevices in the walls.
"Coo-coo-coo!"
Tim, on his return journey, closed his eyes on the plane. On his laptop screen was an image: a small knife, like a feather from an owl. He could almost hear the chilling whispers in his ear, a legend from the shadows.
Beware the Court of Owls, watching you always.
From the shadows they peer at Gotham City, hiding among low wall lofts.
Whether at home or in bed, they are always there.
Speak not their name, lest their talons seek...your head!
A few days ago.
"I'm Iron Man," Tony said.
The officers at the Metropolis Police Department stood up in respect. "Iron Man? Who's that?"
"Not who, it's the Iron Man from New York City."
"The Metal Man?" an officer displayed a picture.
"Not the Metal Man, it's Iron Man, in armor."
"Armored...Luthor?" the officer showed a picture of Luthor.
"Where's the hair? I have hair!"
"Iron Bone?"
"Do I look like I'm of color?"
"So, this Iron Man you're talking about...has he ever stayed at Arkham?"
"What's Arkham? It's not about whether he stayed at Arkham or not...Iron Man! The one who just battled the Mandarin in New York!"
"...Okay, I understand," the officer complied, "So, Mr. Iron Man, due to your serious disturbance and disruption of public order and aesthetics, we need you to stay here temporarily until your family finds you."
...Alright, now he was being treated like a nutcase.
Tony Stark, AKA Iron Man, had been kicked from New York to Metropolis by the Mandarin. When he woke up, his armor was gone, and overnight he became a penniless nobody.
No big deal, he just hadn't figured out the situation yet. Tony pushed up his shades; although he hadn't succeeded in convincing them to release him, at least he was now the honored guest of the precinct.
"Um, Mr. Metal Man? It seems like a relative has come to pick you up," a cautious officer peeked out, "Can you help me with the computer before you leave?"
Tony sighed, giving up on the struggle with idiocy. "Bring it here. Someone's coming to pick me up? Who?"
"Uh...Miss Wayne."
Wayne. Tony's fingers paused on the keyboard. Oh crap, the jig was up.