The cold air from Tim hit him face-on. Shiller examined him, unsure if it was an illusion, but Tim seemed to have grown taller again. The bright Italian sunlight added some freckles to his face, and his complexion deepened slightly, making him look more like an English boy.
He had very sharp brow arches and downturned eye corners, which gave him a kind of innocent sharpness. When the light from the police siren flashed across his face, that contradictory feeling was especially intense, as if Tim Drake crawled out from the depths of the canyon when Holmes and Moriarty embraced and jumped off the cliff.
The trench coat wrapped in the chill of the rainy night, for a moment, made people feel dazed, reminiscent of several rainy nights during the dark age, and Gothamites were always adept at handling such scenes.
"Maintain your manners, Mr. Drake," Alberto reminded, "for the sake of the professor, don't put up that look of breaking in. There's no criminal you're looking for here."
"Godfather," Tim's tone barely changed, "Not to mention I'm just temporarily filling the position and don't have the authority to arrest anyone. I think Gothamites will still thank you for leaving.
The atmosphere between them grew confrontational. At this moment, Cobblepot stepped out from the shadow of the wall, his gloom so thick it couldn't disperse: "This is not the attitude you should have when coming here to find someone. Tim, Chief Gordon wouldn't do so either."
"It was Brainiac who sent me here." Tim showed a cold smile, "Whether you did it or someone among you is involved, no matter how you take the initiative, it won't change this fact."
Cobblepot attempted to say something, but Alberto stopped him: "I know it's not the past anymore. The police should vent their past grievances to prove you've indeed changed something. If you've had enough of flaunting, then go."
"I'm just conducting a reasonable investigation under Brainiac's orders," Tim emphasized again; neither side wanted to give in.
"Are you standing up for Evans?" Alberto spoke up, "I know you met and had a pleasant conversation at that art exhibition, but you're no more qualified than I am to decide what my brother should do."
Cobblepot quickly glanced at Alberto, seemingly not expecting personal affairs to surface so soon. He then looked at Tim, realizing this guy intentionally sought trouble, turning a private vendetta into a public issue.
"Where is your brother then?" Tim asked, looking into Alberto's eyes, "I've never seen him, nor have I seen you two together."
The atmosphere indoors suddenly turned silent. To everyone who came through the dark age, this was an unmentionable topic, a pain for the two generations of godfathers. Shiller said, "Tell us what's going on, Tim."
Cobblepot seemed puzzled as to why Shiller didn't interrupt the two of them. But thinking about it, it was just a verbal sparring, without cops and mobsters clashing, it was already quite a peaceful way to resolve the problem.
There was a murder at Arkham Psychiatric Hospital; someone died. Tim put the gun in his hand back at his waist, and Alberto stared at him for a while before stepping aside to let him enter the estate.
The crisis seemed to be over, but the atmosphere remained oppressive. The ever-growing rain and constant streaks of lightning made the night even more restless. The red-blue alternating lights also made people more anxious.
"Where is the body?" Shiller asked.
"Can't fish it out," Tim shook his head and said, "The island where Arkham Psychiatric Hospital is located has low terrain, storm surges caused seawater to backflow, and both the ground floor and first floor are already submerged, the corpse is soaked in seawater, so we can't get it out."
"What's the deceased's identity then?"
"We don't know yet. Brainiac is attempting a genetic comparison through sampling to investigate the deceased's identity."
"I have a question," Victor spoke up, "Without contact with the body and not knowing who the deceased is, how do you know someone is dead?"
"Someone called the police," Tim said, "But the residents in Arkham Psychiatric Hospital are all psychiatric patients; they can't articulate the current situation. When Brainiac sent drones to check, they did see a body in a room on the submerged second floor through the water surface, but couldn't identify who it was. The seawater is too murky during the storm, and the drone struggled to operate, so it's been recalled."
Then he scanned the surroundings and said, "One of you went to Arkham Psychiatric Hospital last night."
Everyone showed different expressions. Ethan thought for a moment and said, "It was pouring rain last night; who would go to a psychiatric hospital?"
"You don't know who either, do you?" Alberto said, "If you had a specific name, you wouldn't have wasted time at the door for so long."
"More than one," Tim added.
Everyone remained silent. Cobblepot lowered his eyelids and said in a somber tone, "Do you plan to interrogate us here? Chief?"
"It's not exactly an interrogation, just asking about the situation," Tim's attitude suddenly softened, "Then deducing what exactly is going on."
Ethan was about to ask, but Tim seemed to know what he was about to say and spoke, "All the other people on the island have already been evacuated, the island's southeast side has been submerged by the sea, it's very dangerous. Brainiac has blocked off the passage, not allowing anyone to go up. So all we can do is sit on our armchairs and deduce."
"You came so aggressively, at first I thought you were here to make an arrest." Victor shook his head and said, "Not only don't you know who the murderer is, you don't even know whose body it is. How can you deduce anything?"
"Why do you say the murderer is among us?" Alberto asked.
"I didn't say the murderer is among you." Tim didn't even look at him. "What I said was someone among you went to Arkham Psychiatric Hospital, and it was just last night."
"How do you know this?" Victor asked again.
Tim remained silent. Alberto looked at him and said, "So you're just here to bluff us, right?"
"Not just you." Tim said, "Brainiac assigned refuge locations based on suspicion probability. Before coming to you, I've already knocked on three doors, and most people provided reasonable alibis."
This answer completely surprised Victor. Artificial intelligence, indeed, can use the exhaustion method for case investigations and solving crimes. But some were evidently curious about something else.
"We're third on the list?" Shiller asked.
"No, you're first. The most important is kept for last." Tim gently pressed the earpiece on his ear, suddenly looking out the window, seemingly receiving some information, likely Brainiac communicating something to him.
Ethan's eyes showed a hint of annoyance. He had never liked Brainiac, and that dislike extended to Tim, who obeyed its orders. It made him feel like some evil artificial intelligence was manipulating the human race, leading them to self-destruct.
"Mr. Drake, right?" Ethan's wording was still cautious. "No body, no evidence, only a call from the psychiatric hospital. I think you should more carefully consider whether it's reasonable to interrogate so many people as suspects, or whether this is just a cover-up, with something intending to take advantage during a natural disaster."
The others looked at him, but it wasn't shock or disapproval, it was with a hint of admiration. Ethan was cautious enough, people like that always lived long, even in Gotham.
This made Shiller realize Ethan's death might have other reasons. Even if it's to save Iron Man, he wouldn't die so hastily, there might be some other reasons.
"There will be a power outage." Tim's tone slightly lowered, sounding a bit unlike him. Even though he had acted mature, he was still a young man, living at the peak of life's vitality, his voice different from those who had been through life's vicissitudes. No matter how serious he started, the rising intonation at the end always carried a bit of a high-spirited flair, like inadvertently showing off his keen perception while stating facts.
But this time, his tone sank completely. At the moment of landing, the whole manor fell into absolute darkness.
Someone cursed angrily, the voice sounded like Ethan. Immediately followed by a muffled sound, a gunshot, and a storm whipped up inside the hall.
"Stop! Ethan!" Shiller raised his voice.
The knocked-down Tim quickly stood up, cursed. Just as he was about to move, lightning brightly illuminated Alberto, who was aiming a gun at him.
"It wasn't me!" Tim gritted his teeth, "That outsider is also a madman!"
"Victor." Shiller shouted again.
With a light bang, dense ice cones hit Ethan, who was holding the police gun, temporarily freezing him. Cobblepot used the dim light outside the window to look at Tim and said, "You've regressed a lot."
Tim was speechless, just looking at Ethan in the ice sculpture and said, "He's truly crazy! Why grab my gun?"
The others were also puzzled, only Shiller knew Ethan wasn't targeting Tim, he was targeting Brainiac. He was instinctively stopping the most likely culprit to act up at the first sign of accident. And in his eyes, Tim, the stooge of evil AI, naturally needed to be dealt with first.
The rest knew Tim well enough, so they were somewhat puzzled by Ethan's decision to target him first. But they quickly realized, if Ethan didn't knock Tim down, Alberto might shoot Tim because the manor lost power.
Gothamites seemed to have a disease, as soon as they plunged into darkness, they automatically entered the Dark Forest Theory, thinking not why it went dark or where to hide, but about eliminating the most threatening target first.
Tim broke into Falcone Manor with Brainiac's orders and then announced a power outage, looking way too much like a provocation. Even if just to teach him a lesson, Alberto would take action. Ultimately, Gothamites are tough guys, suited more for firefight than scattering and fleeing.
"Alright," Shiller said, "to create a suitable ambiance for deduction, Brainiac went to great lengths. Let's begin."
So they all came to sit in front of the sofa, including Ethan sealed in ice. He just couldn't move, but he could still think and talk.
Everyone calmly accepted this, not feeling anything amiss. Because the initial conflict when darkness descended didn't spread, that wild nature would soon dissipate, replaced by the same dark-born literary quality and philosophy. This is Gothamites' two sides, showing God's exquisite craftsmanship, naturally seamless from the conflict.