"Don't go running around with Damian," Tim said, quickly mastering the correct cadence as he sat on the sofa in Baia's living room, holding a freshly opened poetry collection and staring at the ceiling.
To show Wayne Enterprises' concern for the employees of Stagg Enterprises and to demonstrate social responsibility, Tim was responsible for representing Wayne Enterprises in the protective acquisition of some of Stagg's assets and acquiring shares from some small shareholders. As a result, he frequently traveled to Metropolis and often had meals at Baia's house. Sensing blood, other conglomerates also swooped in like sharks to divide up the spoils of Stagg Enterprises.
For family matters, one could hardly call it kicking someone when they're down.
Of course, the real strategist was Caroline. Now that Baia had taken out loans and was burdened with hefty legal fees, she had sued all the corporate spies. Once the verdicts came in, she might earn more than a week's revenue.
Baia, half-heartedly flipping through a book, replied dismissively, "Hmm."
With nothing to do over the weekend, Damian, who had come to Metropolis, accurately caught his name, though the emphasis in Gallifreyan slightly changed, "Don't you think you two are being a bit too cozy?"
"Really?" Baia, smiling mischievously, leaned against Tim's shoulder and started speaking in Chinese, "How about now?"
Having spent considerable time in Hong Kong, Tim, although still speaking with a slight accent, had no trouble understanding and conversing.
Damian felt left out.
The dining table was a mess. Although Max and Caroline had moved out, they often came back for meals. Along with the two Robins, Baia found herself in a situation reminiscent of feeding cats back in Gotham. She lightly nudged Tim's leg with her foot, "Go do the dishes."
Tim obediently nodded and looked at Damian, "Go do the dishes."
A lazy person directing another lazy person.
"Now you remember to speak English," Damian said. "No way am I doing a servant's job. Drake, the witch was talking to you."
Tim coughed and raised the poetry collection to cover his eyes, "Oh, Swallow, Calligrapher / Unbound by time, the second hand / Early Gothic Architecture…"
"Stop reading that boring Szymborska!" Damian pounced to grab the book from his hands, while Tim laughed and held it high, watching Damian jump for it.
"Just one last line!"
Tim seriously flipped a few pages and then whispered into Baia's ear, "Roses are red, violets are blue / Sugar is sweet, and so are you."
Baia immediately covered her face with the book, her ears turning red. Tim, humming happily, got up and walked to the kitchen, even making the tedious task of washing dishes seem enjoyable. Damian, tired of Tim's sporadic foreign phrases, demanded to learn them too, but Baia refused to teach him.
So the little demon decided to do something only a demon would do.
The sound of running water in the kitchen suddenly stopped. Tim, bewildered by the sink full of soapy dishes, found it odd since the building's plumbing was supposed to be excellent. He turned the tap a few times and called out, "Damian, check the water valve!"
Damian was standing next to the main water valve, smiling victoriously.
The next second, a strong jet of water burst from the faucet. The plate in Tim's hand served as a great obstacle, causing water to splash everywhere. Tim was drenched, his hair dripping. He frantically turned off the tap and angrily grabbed a plate to confront Damian. The little demon darted around the house, fighting barehanded with the furious CEO Drake, and ended up pinned to the carpet.
Baia, wide-eyed, was completely stunned.
Since he had an afternoon meeting, Tim was dressed formally. Earlier, he had draped his suit jacket over the sofa, revealing a fitted black vest and a dark red satin shirt, now clinging wetly to his body, the fabric rising and falling with his breaths, giving Baia an unobstructed view.
System: Stop staring, your eyes are about to glue themselves to him.
Baia quickly looked away, pretending to be a gentleman with her eyes wandering around. When she saw Tim wasn't looking at her, she sneaked another peek.
"Could you two keep it down with the flirting?" Max, the neighbor, pushed open the door. Seeing Tim pinning Damian to the ground, about to throw a punch, he exclaimed, "Wow, are you really that upset about your dad having a second child?"
"No, just disciplining a kid on a rainy day; nothing better to do," Tim released Damian, dusted off his pants, and greeted Max.
Fortunately, there was a spare set of clothes in the car downstairs, or he would've been thoroughly sabotaged by the little demon today.
Since Tim had other matters to attend to in the afternoon, he stayed with Baia and Damian for a bit longer before leaving in a hurry.
Baia, however, was free. After the heavy blow to Stagg Enterprises, the first branch of the main quest was completed. She was in a good mood and decided to give herself a small vacation.
"Sigh," she said, standing up to tidy the kitchen, "I finally understand why Alfred doesn't allow anyone else into the kitchen besides me."
Tim changed his clothes, and the driver was waiting downstairs.
"Mr. Drake," the driver said, "a package just arrived for you."
Tim took the package. It was thin and light, feeling like a book. The sender's address was clearly marked—Cambridge University, Professor Chronotis.
Tim was slightly puzzled, feeling something was off. Although the book was addressed to Timothy Drake, which meant it was unlikely to be a prank from old friends at Arkham, he decided to leave the package on the back seat and check it carefully in the Batcave.
That evening, he opened the package to find a small dark red velvet-covered book, only five inches wide and seven inches long. The cover had no text, only intricate patterns resembling embossed gold.
Oh, but he recognized this. Tim thought, the cover read—"The Gallifreyan Honorable...," with the lower left corner of the large circle intersected by two concentric circles, pierced by a gold line pointing right, and a small wavy line akin to a sunbeam ending the phrase. This meant it was a complete noun, but he couldn't quite make it out.
He flipped to the back of the book, which had a simple message—
"> If found wandering, please knock it out and return to the library. <"
Tim rapidly flipped through the pages, finding them all blank.
"This is truly strange," Tim muttered to himself, finding the professor's contact number on Cambridge University's website and dialing it.
"Is this Professor Chronotis?" Tim shrugged, holding the phone to his ear while placing the Gallifreyan book under the Batcave's spectrometer. The phone rang for a while before someone answered, not who Tim expected.
"Professor Chronotis is not well and can't come to the phone right now," a warm male voice, familiar to Tim, replied. Just then, the spectrometer displayed a string of garbled text, followed by a glitching screen and a burnt smell emanating from the machine.
Tim unplugged the power, looking at the smoking device, realizing he might need to borrow the Fortress of Solitude's equipment: "And you are?"
"Charles Xavier, sometimes called Professor X."
"Oh," Tim stood up straight, "pleasure to meet you."
"What happened to Professor Chronotis? I have an urgent matter to discuss with him—"
"No, wait, young man," Charles said, successfully finding the note he needed among the clutter on his desk, "according to Professor Chronotis' instructions, you need to swear first."
"Swear what?"
"This note says...you must swear on a book; it's a prerequisite."
"Yes, there is a book here," Tim said, showing no particular reverence as he tried to damage the noble book, but neither sharp objects nor fire had any effect.
"You need to place your hand on the book's cover."
"What nonsense," Tim muttered, but some strange force compelled him to follow Xavier's instructions, "it's not the Bible."
Charles sighed, "Professor Chronotis wrote to me asking for help. When I arrived, he had already passed out. Fortunately, he's not in any immediate danger. Now, I can only follow the notes he left behind. Next, you need to say—'I swear to do my utmost to protect the Ancient Law of Gallifrey, defend justice and dignity, until the end of my life.'"
Tim replied, "I'm not sure I really want to protect this."
"Then you can hang up."
"Alright, alright," Tim conceded, repeating the oath as instructed. Suddenly, he felt the book pages beneath his hand grow warm, as if some connection had been established in that moment.
Never be too casual with alien technology, Tim thought, even if the person on the "possibly trustworthy" list was Professor X, even if the planet Gallifrey was intricately linked to Baia, and even if this appeared to be just a book.
He opened the book again, his heart pounding like a drum. The pure white pages shimmered with golden light, and in the midst of the void, he saw—
"Are you okay?" Charles asked with concern. "What did you see in the book?"
"I saw..." Tim murmured, finding himself in the ruins of Metropolis, a tattered red cape lying on the ground before him like a pool of dried blood, "Doomsday."