Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or any of its related characters or themes...
AN: Set a few weeks after Bruce's parents died. Just a drabble... not much to say.
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Value of Strength
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"Alf-Alfred?" Bruce bats at the aging butler's arm fruitlessly.
"Yes, Master Bruce?" Alfred answers, almost innocently.
They've been stuck in this headlock for a good three minutes, dancing around the same spot, one trying to oust the other. But, Alfred was without a doubt, the one leading this little waltz. Bruce was just along for the ride.
"You can let go… now," Bruce says, trying to twist out of the grip. Almost like a crocodile, manoeuvring into a death-roll. Then again, crocodiles are all muscle and sinews. And Bruce, well… the seven-year old has the sinewy part down pat.
"Of what?" Alfred says, feigning oblivion.
"Of me! You're choking me!" Bruce growls, gripping tighter at the man's arm.
In truth, the vice hadn't changed in constriction or grip… only Bruce's writhing and caterwauling has increased.
"If you intend to escape, Master Bruce, I suggest you do something about it," the older man's taunt comes.
"But, you're stronger than me!"
"Strength alone will not win a fight," Alfred says and smiles encouragingly.
So, Batman grips the arm of his assailant, kicks off against the wall and vaults himself backwards over his attacker. He kicks the goon forwards, sending the henchman flying over the rails.
"Thanks, Alfred."
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Thanks for reading!
