It had been one month since the arrival of Damian Wayne and Alfred was still holding on to the hope that the boy would learn to be humble and admit his shortcomings, no matter how small.
He was going to have to wait quite a while.
Nonetheless, progress was being made. On Monday, Damian approached Alfred with a request.
"Pennyworth, I seem to have lost my house slippers. You're a servant and I've better things to do. Find them for me."
Well, it was really more of a demand than a request, but it was still progress. Then, a week later.
"Pennyworth, my uniform has acquired a hole. Fix it."
Actually, that day's progress came a few seconds later, when Bruce added that there was a hole in Damian's suit because he let his guard down and Damian chose not to make an indignant rebuttal.
Progress. Slow, frustratingly slow, but progress.
In contrast to Alfred's steady willingness to wait for Damian to, as Dick mockingly says, "have an epiphany," Bruce is impatient. Which makes sense. After all, Bruce is the one who must work with the boy and whose job does not allow for blunders. Bruce, therefore, is quick to discipline.
Despite his tendency to act like Ares, Athena, Hercules, Thoth, and Zeus combined into a single, supreme divine being, Damian often makes tactical errors that seem to say otherwise.
One would think that, if need be, Harley Quinn would take a break from holding up Gotham Central Bank to take care of Joker. Not today.
No, today, Harley decided that she would take revenge on the lame, lousy "Fatman" who injured her Puddin'. In reality, Harley was upset because Joker had yelled at her for hugging him too hard (he had two broken ribs,) "tagging along" when he told her, with both explicitness and expletives, not to, and he had forgotten to feed her "babies." Or as sane human beings know them, hyenas.
Harley, idolizing Joker as she does, blamed the caped crusader for her Puddin's cranky demeanor. Thus bringing us to the Central Business District, where Harley and a group of henchmen are holding up stockholders, some wanting to return home to their families, others grateful for the excuse not to go back to their nagging, money-spending wives.
"Alright, Puddin's only going to be asleep for about another hour, so somebody better hurry up and call Batsy!"
No one moved. The police would have been called already were it not for the businessmen being too busy pleading to finish their sales.
Harley doesn't like to wait. She found a shaking man with gray hair and pointed her gun at him.
"Hey! Shake'n Bake! Call the police!"
"If you," he swallowed nervously, "if you, ah, don't mind, I-I need to take a quick peek at my portfolio-"
"Yeah, and if YOU don't mind, my gun would like to take a quick peek atcha brains!"
"Please, you don't understand, I'm about to make a lot of money, and-"
"Um, sir? The police are already outside the building." An underage and, no doubt, underpaid assistant with freckles spoke up.
"And Batman?" Harley now pointed the gun at the freckled teenager.
"He's on his way."
"Finally! Now we can get this party started. Henchies, bring out the snacks!"
When Harley said "bring out the snacks," she meant, "raid the mini-fridges!"
Meanwhile, Batman and Robin sped east of Midtown in the Batmobile.
"Don't kill anyone."
"You don't have to tell me that."
Damian felt the Bat-Glare beating down on him.
"Robin, if I have to clean up your mess again-"
"What mess have I made?"
"You've set off motion sensors, you rush headlong into situations, and you refuse to follow my orders."
"Have you ever considered the possibility that I do those things not because I am a belligerent child, but because I know better than you in some situations?"
"No."
"You should."
Bruce wondered how anyone could be so bold.
They arrived at the scene and walked straight towards Commissioner Gordon.
"Make sure there are two officers at the back of the build- What about donuts? No, I'm not sending her any!" Gordon was trying to ignore the balloons with attached notes requesting food that Harley was sending.
"Gordon." Batman stood in front of him now.
"Wha- Oh. You should go in there now. She's getting anxious to shoot something."
"Or eat somebody. Clock's tickin, commish."
"Got it, Bullock. Now, Quinn and her cronies are on the second floor. They'll be waiting for you at the elevators."
"Elevators, Commissioner?" Bruce perked up an eyebrow.
"I take that to mean you're not going to ride the elevators."
"No, Commissioner."
"Hey, Bullock! You owe me five bucks!" Said an officer near the entrance.
"Yeah, Yeah, I'm coming." As Detective Bullock walked away, he muttered, "Dang costumed freak cost me five bucks."
"Poor Bullock. Alright, well since you're not taking the elevators," Gordon looked up from the floor plans of the Exchange.
"Batman?" He turned around.
"He did it again. Bullock's leaving here ten bucks short today."
Two out-cold henchmen and one secretive entrance later, Batman and Robin faced a very mad Harley Quinn.
"Heya there, Fatsy. I see ya brought joonyah with ya." Harley giggled.
"Quinn, where's Joker?" Batman asked tentatively. It was unlike Harley to commit crimes by herself. If not with the Joker, at least with Poison Ivy.
"He's recovarin' from his injuries, no thanks to you."
"Harley, why aren't you with him now?"
"Well, somebody's gotta stand up for Mistah J. And it sure as heck ain't gonna be you!"
Damian was confused. It was unlike his father to converse so long with degenerates. If they came across more garrulous criminals, Bruce would use the distraction to incapacitate. Sometimes Harley was a chatterbox, but now she was all business. There was no reason, in Damian's mind, to attempt to negotiations.
"You don't have to fight with me, Harley. You need help."
"Batman-"
"Quiet, Robin."
Damian, having a black-and-white view of the adversaries he and his father faced, was getting frustrated with Bruce's "soft" handling of Harley Quinn. He was already formulating a plan to take down the costumed woman.
"What, ya think ya some kinda doctor or somethin'? My Mistah J's got a coupla broken ribs. People ain't happy when they got broken ribs. They yell and scream at ya. Ya know why I'm here, Batty? I'm here because you," Harley shoved her gun in his direction, "you made my poor Puddin' mad! I don't like it when Puddin' gets mad."
"Harleen,_"
"My name is not Har-"
Harley couldn't finish her sentence, as Damian had jumped onto a table to his left and then lunged, feet first, at her. She was too slow to react and fell to the floor, unconscious.
After informing Commissioner Gordon of what Damian considered a complete mission, Batman proceeded to the Batmobile. Once they were inside, Damian spoke.
"Father, have I done something wrong? You have not said anything to me since I neutralized Quinn."
"You didn't neutralize her, Damian, you kicked her in the head."
"So? What about the countless number of people she has hurt? What I did pales in comparison to her crimes. She received a long overdue punishment."
"This is not about revenge. This is about saving the city and its people."
"Is revenge not the very reason you donned your cape and cowl?"
"That was different."
"Hah! Different. I suppose you were trying to save Quinn as well? Another innocent victim of the Joker? She chose to lead a life of crime."
"The fact that she allied herself with the Joker does not mean she can't be helped."
"Oh, so you think if you offer her cookies and a few comforting words, she'll change?"
They were silent for the rest of the drive.
At the Batcave, Bruce went to the Batcomputer to update Harley's status. Damian had gone to change out of his costume.
Alfred, who left the cave to wash dishes, was just returning when Damian approached Bruce.
"Father?"
No reply.
"I am retiring to bed now."
"Sleep well."
"Father, I-I wanted to apologize. I was out of line and...Should have deferred to you."
Bruce turned. He stared at Damian for a minute. Then he nodded.
"Alright."
"Alright? What does that mean?"
"Alright."
Silence again. Out of the corner of his eye, Damian noticed Alfred smiling slightly.
"Pennyworth. I'm preparing for bed. Draw my bath."
Alfred, still smiling, replied, "Of course, Master Damian."
Progress. Now if only he would stop calling him Pennyworth.