"Mr. Kid?" Alfred returned to tidy things up and found Kid busy in the Batcave.
"Alfred, don't mind me, just go about your work. I'll be done soon. This time, I'm ahead of your young master. When I catch Neo, I'm definitely going to brag about it right in Bruce's face."
"…" The butler was speechless. This gentleman thief seemed to really enjoy showing off in front of his master—maybe out of jealousy? Still, he knew Kid wasn't a bad person and was an ally of the young master, so he went back to his work.
Before long, Alfred noticed what Kid was tinkering with—a piece of detection equipment that wasn't used often.
"Mr. Kid, let me handle that." Just from the way Kid was fumbling with it, Alfred could tell he wasn't familiar with the device.
"Alright!" Kid handed over a crucial piece of evidence—a business card he had peeled off a lightning rod.
Every batch of paper is different, with production notes kept by the manufacturer. From even a small scrap, it's possible to trace where that paper was sold, and with luck, who bought it.
Neo might be a top-tier hacker, but in the end, he'd still left a slip-up. That business card on the lightning rod was the key that pointed Kid toward him.
With Alfred working the controls and using the Batcave's massive database, they quickly found the distributor who sold that paper—located in Los Angeles.
"Thanks!" Kid didn't waste a second and flew straight toward the distributor.
Alfred didn't even have time to say "you're welcome," though he had to admit Kid had a pretty good detective mind to think of tracking a hacker through paper. Still, it had taken him two whole days to think of it—if it were the young master, he would've acted that very night.
But it wasn't entirely Kid's fault. At first, he hadn't even known who Neo was. Once he learned Neo was a hacker, he naturally started by investigating the three systems that had been breached. But Neo was so good he left no trace. With no other leads, Kid finally remembered—he still had Neo's business card.
From the paper and printing ink, he could track Neo down. Maybe not with 100% certainty, but at least 80%.
Once in Los Angeles, Kid quickly found the distributor.
The shop owner, belly round from too much beer, was just about to close and was counting the day's sales.
Ding-dong. The bell above the door rang.
"Sorry, I'm closing. If you need something, come back tomorrow," the shopkeeper called from behind the shelves.
"I'm not here to buy anything. I need your help with something," Liu A'dou said.
The shopkeeper peeked his head out, only to see the white-suited gentleman thief himself at the door. "…Kaitou… Kid??!!"
"That's right. You're the owner here?" Kid asked.
The man nodded and waddled out from behind the shelves. "So, what can I do for you?"
"I want to know if you've sold a batch of P60g78 paper here."
"P60g78? Doesn't ring a bell. I'll have to check my sales records." The shopkeeper wasn't a Kid fan, so his only impression of him came from that one stunning photo taken after the Kryptonian invasion—a shot that had won Jimmy quite a few awards.
"Please check. This is very important," Kid said seriously.
The shopkeeper nodded and went to his computer.
Kid's heart tightened. "Is that computer connected to the internet?"
"Ah? No, it's not connected." The shopkeeper didn't understand why Kid was asking that. This computer wasn't connected to the internet—he only used it to record stock in and out. "The one that's connected is in the back office. Do you need it?"
"No. Just tell me if that P60g78 batch was sold from here."
A quick search later, he said, "That's right. P60g78 was from last month's stock, and it was sold from my shop."
"Do you remember what the buyer looked like?" Kid pressed.
The shopkeeper looked troubled. "It was last month… I really can't rem—wait, September 28th. That was my wife's and my wedding anniversary."
Special days always stick in the mind.
"So, can you recall it? This is really important."
"I remember now." The shopkeeper patted his belly. "Yeah, I remember because that entire batch was bought by one person. The order was huge, and I remember the buyer was disabled, so I helped deliver it to his home. No doubt—it was him who bought that paper."
"Perfect!" Kid finally had another lead. "Can you give me his address?"
"I've been there, of course I remember. I'll write it down for you." The shopkeeper grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, quickly scribbled the address, and handed it to Kid.
"Thanks a lot." Kid looked at the address in his hand and thought, Finally…
"It's an honor to serve the Justice League," the portly shopkeeper said excitedly. Now he'd have a great story to brag about to his friends.
This time, Kid felt strongly—he was sure he'd find Neo, and soon.
Following the address, Liu A'dou arrived at an ordinary apartment building. The person who bought the paper lived inside. Kid entered from the rooftop, then slowly descended the stairwell to the target floor. His senses had already locked onto the target—inside that unit was a collection of computers and equipment, practically a hacker's signature.
But one thing didn't add up. Why was there only a wheelchair-bound man inside, and no one else? Could that disabled man really be Neo?
One step. Two steps. Three steps. Kid approached the door.
At the same time, Neo had already rolled his wheelchair to the entrance. Clearly, he knew Kid was coming. Kid sensed his movement and guessed that the building's surveillance cameras were all under his control. It was almost certain—this man was Neo.
Kid made his move. The door lock was nothing complicated—he just pushed all the latches flat with the Force and it opened. No tools, no knocking. He made it look effortless, as if the door had never been locked at all.
The Force was a wonderful thing.
The door swung open. The entryway was dark, and the last orange glow of sunset poured into the home. But Kid's shadow completely covered Neo.
Silence. The building didn't have many tenants to begin with, and today it was even quieter.
Neo looked up toward the backlit figure of Kaitou Kid. All he could see was a dark silhouette, like it had been blurred out.
The man in the wheelchair was clearly in poor health. His eyes held no fear, no guilt, no surprise, no madness. Kid searched for the word to describe them.
Relief. Yes, that was it—relief. It was strange. In this situation, in this place, his eyes shouldn't have looked like that at all.