{II: Timothy} The Art of Inconspicuousness

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Tim Drake, or Red Robin, as some called him, was not the topmost person at being inconspicuous. At the moment, for example, he was perched on the roof of a building in plain sight, peering across the street intently. The fact that his vigilante uniform was red, black, and yellow, did not help matters.

He watched as, on the ground below, a tall girl with wild hair strode to an apartment building. She tried the door, then knocked, looking side to side as she did. She was pulled into the building and the door slammed shut behind her.

This was the same girl who had, only a few minutes ago, gotten mugged. Or avoided getting mugged, depending on how you looked at it. She must not be a native, because the majority of Gothamites getting mugged looked toward the sky for help in the form of the vigilantes, Batman & Co. Tim had gotten a glimpse of the exchange on patrol, and decided to follow her. After all, it was too cold for anyone to consider doing a real crime. Even with his almost unnatural immunity to most temperatures, Tim was shivering.

A whooshing sound came from behind him, and Tim could hear the annoyance in Damian's voice, "Tt. I find it disappointing that, although patrol has been rather unentertaining, you are spying on a member of the opposite sex."

Tim rolled his eyes, "I'm not spying, Demon Child."

Damian came to his side and smirked, "What is your motive then for ustilizing a pair of binoculars to look across the street?"

A light came on in the building, on the third, which is to say the top, level. "Shh!" Tim exclaimed and dove behind the rim of the roof, pulling Damian down with him. "There she is!"

Damian moved himself away from Tim with disdain, straightening his hood, "What is the meaning of this, Drake?"

"Code names, Robin!" Tim hissed, glancing furtively into the lit glass door, which led onto a little balcony across the street. A shadow fell on it, and the curtain drew to one side, then fell. The girl slid the old curtain off the rod, and put a yellow one on. "Look," Tim gave the binoculars to Damian.

Damian squinted. "Your point, Red Robin? She is just a female. And too old for you by the look of it."

Tim blushed and yanked the binoculars out of his hands, "Shut up! Her hair! She has a white streak, Robin!"

"And?" He looked unimpressed.

Tim rolled his eyes, again, "Do you think it's a coincidence?"

"I think you are overthinking this matter, Red Robin. Many people have poliosis. And it is genetic."

Tim couldn't shake the feeling that this was important, "But what if?"

Damian sneered, "Why do you not ask her, if it is irritating your incompetent brain cells as much as you are me?" Tim's incredulousness must've shown on his face because Damian sighed, "Tt. Not right now, idiot. Tomorrow." Damian stood up and brushed off his red vest.

Tim turned back to look across the street, but the curtain was closed and the light was off. "Why are you even here, Robin? I thought your route tonight was the West Circut."

"Indeed, but Father requested that you and I investigate a tip. Apparently, somebody is going to try to steal the 'De Vaders van Gotham' in about ten minutes and the police are occupied in the Narrows." Damian waved him along, "Come. We must see if this is a legitimate concern."

"I'll lead," Tim said, grabbing his grappling hook and racing onto the rooftop ahead of Damian.

'De Vaders van Gotham' was a 1767 Dutch painting of the English Founding Fathers of Gotham City, Alan Wayne, Theodore Cobblepot, and Edward Elliot, along with their wives. It was valued at around 7.3 million US dollars last year, and therefore, it was stolen, or at least almost stolen, a lot.

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