The Robin on one side of the wall, the Batman on the other.
Avery, too, had no idea that one of the future Robins he had glimpsed briefly in his dreams was standing right before him. His only impression of Tim was that the boy was round-faced, cute, and pleasant to look at—though he certainly wouldn't want to take care of him. Raising kids was far too troublesome.
At that moment, Avery couldn't have known that the first child would soon enter their lives.
As evening fell, the group made their way to the circus, their destination for the night. There was still some time left before the performance would begin.
During this time, they encountered the famous "Flying Graysons."
It was a family act—a husband, wife, and their not-yet-ten-year-old son.
The young boy, with his dark hair and bright blue eyes, was cheerful and full of smiles. Already training for circus performances, he had developed a body more agile and nimble than most children his age.
"Can I take a picture with you guys?" asked little Tim, his cheeks flushed as he looked up at the slightly taller Richard Grayson.
Eight-year-old Richard Grayson couldn't refuse the request, and naturally, neither could his parents. Mary Grayson smiled warmly, bent down, and couldn't resist ruffling Tim's fluffy hair as she said, "Of course, little sir."
Tim's father helped take the photo, capturing the moment.
As performers, the Grayson family had to prepare for their act, so after taking the picture, they said their goodbyes to everyone present.
Bruce, along with Avery, entered the VIP box they had reserved earlier. Coincidentally, the Drake family was seated in the adjacent box. After exchanging greetings with their neighbors, both families settled in just as the show began.
The opening act was a magic performance.
A man in his late twenties, dressed in a black suit and tall hat, took the stage. He bowed to the audience before reaching into his hat and pulling out a rabbit.
The crowd erupted into applause.
Encouraged, the magician smiled and, with a wave of his hand, released two doves from the hat. Then, he pulled out a long string of colorful pennants, leaving the audience wondering if his hat was bottomless, capable of holding an endless array of objects.
Avery joined in the applause, blending into the sea of clapping spectators. His participation was barely noticeable, but it caught Bruce's attention.
Bruce leaned in and whispered, "Aren't you, as a wizard, supposed to be uninterested in this kind magic tricks?"
Without looking back, Avery replied, "It doesn't hurt to learn how to fool people. That way, when I use real magic, I can pass it off as just a trick."
Bruce had no response and turned his focus back to the performance, watching the magician continue his routine.
The magician performed classic tricks like sawing a woman in half and levitating in mid-air. Avery, with his sharp eyes, spotted the flaws in the illusions but wasn't disappointed. On the contrary, he found these little tricks quite amusing.
Though they were simple stunts, they were the product of human ingenuity. Avery might not enjoy dealing with overly clever people, but he admired intelligence. The individuals who came up with these illusions had to be quite sharp.
The magic act lasted for over half an hour before concluding. The stagehands swiftly removed the props.
There was no unnecessary delay for the audience. Soon, the "Flying Graysons" family—whom they had met earlier—stepped onto the stage, ready to perform a series of high-difficulty acrobatics and their signature act: the flying trapeze.
Pre-prepared ropes descended from the ceiling, with John Grayson being the first to be hoisted into the air, followed by his wife Mary, and finally their youngest, Richard.
For Batman, who swung through the city daily, this kind of performance lacked the thrill needed to hold his attention. However, there was always a bit of professional curiosity between those in similar lines of work, so Bruce watched closely—though much of his attention was focused on analyzing whether the performers' movements were executed with perfect form.
Maybe I could learn a few things about swinging from ropes, Bruce Wayne mused absently.
On stage, after completing a series of complex maneuvers, Richard returned safely to the ground, leaving his parents suspended high above, performing a daring act where one hung by their legs, holding the other as they swung through the air. They were preparing for a triple somersault.
And then it happened—the rope snapped.
In an instant, John and Mary plummeted from the height of several stories like two kites cut loose from their strings. They crashed to the ground in front of their son, the sickening thud echoing throughout the arena.
Hot blood splattered across the stage, spraying outwards in every direction.
"Ahhh!"
Screams erupted from the audience.
"What's happening?!"
"Was this part of the show?"
"Dad! Mom!"
"…"
In the neighboring box, the Drakes immediately covered Tim's eyes. The young boy may not have fully grasped the concept of death, but he could sense something terrible had happened.
Circus staff rushed onto the stage to check on the Graysons, but soon, with solemn expressions, they shook their heads, realizing the tragedy was irreversible.
Chaos spread throughout the tent. Many spectators, their spirits crushed, muttered angrily about bad luck or left the circus in shock, no longer interested in staying. The ringmaster, a man named Harry, repeatedly bowed and apologized to the exiting guests.
Avery was taken aback by the sudden disaster. While saddened, his instincts led him to glance at Bruce, noticing that his friend was staring blankly at the scene on stage.
Oh no, Avery thought. Any time something like this happens, he starts thinking about his parents. This accident is going to trigger his worst memories, dragging his trauma right back to the surface.
For a moment, Bruce seemed to be somewhere else, as if he was transported back in time. The dark Gotham sky pierced the towering buildings, looking down at a dim alleyway, the scattered pearls on the ground, the lifeless bodies of his parents, and the small, helpless boy standing over them.