Not sure where I was going with this one...I have notes, but they're sort of vague? I don't know, the only thing I remember at the time is that I loved Alfred and thought he deserved a fanfic about himself xD too bad it was never finished.
Alfred polished the table in front of him.
It was Master Bruce's coffee table, gorgeous really. The light danced on it whenever a lamp was near or a ray of sunlight fell across.
Like everything in the Wayne Mansion, it was nice.
Alfred of course didn't mind that. Given his age, he'd still do his life all over again the exact same way. Knowing the things he's seen and done, it was worth it.
Keeping his thoughts to himself in his usual quiet manner, he finished his polishing and looked up at the grandfather clock against the wall.
It read 1:00. Master Dick wouldn't be home for another hour or two at least. He had debate club today.
And Master Bruce had an important conference meeting today. He would be even later than Master Dick.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
He promptly walked down the hall to open the door.
No one was there, but he looked down.
There lay a letter.
Alfred stooped down and picked it up as if it were any old letter. He glanced around, though he knew he would never see the deliverer.
He closed the door, walking inside with it.
The cream-colored envelope had no return address, and only bore Alfred Pennyworth's name as any sign that it was his.
But of course it wasn't handwritten, but typed. And Alfred knew right away it would be sterile of all fingerprints.
He took it to the kitchen, opening it with only a slight frown.
He cut the crimson red emblem on the back with a letter opener from a desk drawer.
Then he opened it and read the letter.
you know what we want.
you better bring it soon.
or something will happen.
we'll be watching.
Again, this was typed and without any fingerprints and Alfred knew this.
He allowed a sigh to escape his lips, since no one was home.
He knew who this was from. He knew what they wanted. He even knew this wasn't the first letter of its kind, nor would it be the last.
But the proper butler knew hardly what to do.
He couldn't go to Batman for this.
He couldn't go to anyone but himself.
He sighed again and left the room.
