CHAPTER 2
Author's Note: The story at this point is mostly a novelization of Justice League #23.4 and #25, written by Geoff Johns with a few of my own touches. By the way, the Lorcin L380 is reputed to be hard to field strip, unreliable and is called a "throwaway gun".
"Your breakfast, sir," the butler set a china plate on the table before his master and refilled his coffee cup. It didn't do to let standards lapse, even if they were lodged in substandard housing.
Thomas Wayne picked up a slice of toast and began to butter it. "I suppose I should start calling him by his preferred name...Have you seen to Dick's meal yet?" he asked.
"When you are finished, I will attend to him," the old man said. "I wish that you would reconsider, sir. As I have said before, this young man is not the Richard Grayson you knew. You cannot trust him."
"I have made my decision, Alfred," Thomas said, still eating his toast. "I intend to have family again. I won't make the same mistakes with Dick as I did with Richard."
"Ahhh, you do not intend to share all of your thoughts with him, then," Alfred said with satisfaction. "I was concerned. I should hate to be forced to dispose of someone who looks so much like Talon."
"I intend to give Dick as much trust as Talon had," Thomas said sharply. "But it will take some time to...accustom him...to the way we do business. His mentor is dead. He has no choice." He finished his toast.
"Sir, he may prove as recalcitrant as your younger brother did and betray you," the butler said, pouring more coffee.
Thomas' eyes grew misty and his face paled. "Mother and Father had to die, you know that and I thought that Bruce did, too. My father was a weak man. He was spending the entire Wayne fortune on malpractice claims and Mother...My mother was an overbearing sadist." Thomas shuddered. "And she entertained more men than an alley cat. I had thought that Bruce understood that." My servant Alfred was the only one I could control. Together, we murdered my family. He remembered the night that his parents had died. They'd been to the movies, to see the new Zorro movie...
"I want pizza," his little brother, Bruce, had whined.
"You already ate a hot dog and nachos at the movie, Bruce," Martha Wayne's voice was high-pitched with a note that matched Bruce's.
"But I want pizza, Daddy. I want it nowwwwww!" Bruce strode into the alley. All was going according to plan.
Martha tsk'd. "Just buy the boys what they want, Thomas. Their screeching hurts my ears so." She pulled a compact from her purse and began studying her face.
"But we're on a budget, dear," her husband said helplessly. "I need to save every dollar I can to keep the lawyers fed."
She eyed him with disdain. "Just because you can't stop 'slipping' when you put someone under the knife? Those accidents are adding up, Thomas! And it's hard to deny the pattern as anything but your surgical fetish, you idiot."
While Thomas looked back at where his parents had stopped, he nudged Bruce. His brother nodded and played his part. "Mommy, I want a gun like Zorro's. Make Daddy buy me a Lorcin L 380! Bang! Bang! Ban!"
Suddenly, Martha stilled, glancing over her shoulder. "Wait, Thomas," she said.
"What is it, dear?" Thomas looked around nervously.
"I thought I heard someone in the alley," she said.
"Oh, Mother, that's only me," Thomas said. As his parents turned towards him, they saw that he was holding them at gunpoint, his other hand resting on the shoulder of his brother Bruce, next to him. "Put your hands up."
"What are you doing, Junior?" she demanded. "You put that gun away. You do it right now!"
"No," Thomas said calmly, unaware that Bruce was beginning to shake.
"You listen to me!" she said sharply.
"Bruce and I are never going to listen to either of you again. Because Dad's going to let you throw away our money and leave me and Bruce with nothing...unless we do something about it," Thomas said.
"Tommy!" Bruce's thin voice cut him off. "I..I can't."
"What?" Thomas glared at his little brother.
"I've changed my mind. I don't want to hurt Mom and Dad," Bruce's eyes were big and blue, looking up into his.
"We made a plan, Bruce. A deal. Don't you back out now!" Thomas hissed.
"Stop playing around and get back to the Bentley you brats!" Martha said.
"I'm not playing, Mother," Thomas said coldly and raised the gun.
"No, Tommy!" Bruce shouted and threw himself on his brother. While the two struggled on the ground, Martha pushed in to separate them.
"You stop this foolishness! Eight lashings for each of you!" she squealed. Suddenly, she fell in a spray of blood and an explosive sound. Thomas Wayne Sr. went down next.
While the individual pearls from Martha's necklace spattered over the ground, a familiar voice said, "Bruce? You should've listened to your brother." A third shot rang out and Bruce Wayne fell. Thomas jumped at the report while Alfred Pennyworth, holding a smoking pistol, stepped from the shadows. "It's done, Master Thomas."
Overhead a flock of birds had taken off for the darkened sky, leaving one confused bird perched overhead. "Whooo-whoo! Who are you?" it seemed to be calling to Thomas. A bird spoke to me that night, he reflected later. Bewildered and confused. Like Bruce as he lay there dying.
"Tom...Tommy?" Bruce whimpered, holding out his hand to his brother.
"Who am I?" Tommy said. "I'm Thomas Wayne, Junior. The richest boy in Gotham City." With Alfred at his back, he carefully aimed his pistol down at his traitorous brother and put the last bullet into him. The loud explosion finally drove the owl flapping into the sky.
"Penny for your thoughts, sir." A voice broke his reverie. He looked up with a smile.
"Ah, Alfred, I'm sorry. I was remembering," Thomas said.
"Your family?" Alfred said.
"Alfred, sometimes I've had to burn it all and start again. We've been marooned on a world that isn't ours. Things are different here, but there are some things that might be better than what we left behind." He looked up at his oldest ally. "I'm building a new family here. That's what this backwards world is going to give me. A new beginning." And don't you dare try to stop me.
The old man met his eyes and kept them there, before falling. "As you wish, sir."
Dick sat dozing in the chair. One of the syndicate members, Johnny Quick, had let him use the bathroom, stolidly watching him while he did his business. His stomach had started growling and he was beginning to regret the offer of food last night from that pod-person version of Alfred last night. This Alfred gave him the creeps, he was so familiar and yet so very different. Alfred. Was his Alfred even alive anymore? Was Bruce? Or Babs? Tim or Jason? Clark? Anyone? For all he knew, he was the last hero left alive. His head bowed and he closed his eyes, trying to absorb the probable truth of his situation.
Bruce had always insisted that he consider every possibility and plan for the worst. Well, this was probably the worst. He could mourn later, after he had cleaned up this mess.
He was startled by a throat being cleared just off his left shoulder. His eyes flew open to find Alfred, their Alfred standing and holding a tray.
"Your breakfast, sir," he said and raised the lid. Dick's eyes opened even wider. There sat a large bowl of Crocky Crunch in whole milk with two tablespoons of sugar liberally scattered on the top. A cloth napkin was neatly folded with a spoon on top of it. A china cup and saucer held jasmine tea, lemon, no sugar. The old man caught Dick's surprise and smiled a bit. "This was Master Richard's standard breakfast. I trust that it meets with your approval?"
Dumbly, Dick nodded and watched as Alfred set the tray onto a small table and set it in front of him. "I will unlock your cuffs, sir. I assume that you will make no attempts at escape since you have allied yourself with Master Thomas." Alfred produced a key, but before he bent over to release the chains, he met Dick's eye. "If you should attempt any action against me by way of escape, be assured that I will certainly break your neck, thus leaving Master Thomas free of any potential serpent in his breast. Is that understood?"
Dick nodded and gritted out a "Yeah." He'd always known that his Alfred was a tough man, but he'd rarely shown that side to him. This Alfred...did not pretend to any affection or softness for Talon's twin.
He felt his hands released and carefully picked up the spoon, beginning to eat. He felt the butler's glittering eyes following his every move. "How much longer am I going to just sitting around?" Dick asked casually.
"As long as necessary," 'Alfred' said. "You should know that the only reason you are alive is because Thomas forced the issue with Ultraman. He is the only thing standing between you and death."
"I see," Dick said. "Nice tea. Just the way I like it, thank you." He dabbed at his lips with the napkin, just as his Alfred had taught him all those years ago. "I...uh...don't suppose you've heard about whether any other heroes have survived?"
"No," the butler said shortly. "You have no allies. You are entirely alone." Seeing that his charge had finished his tea and the cereal, 'Alfred' stepped behind Dick's chair. "Hands," he said, grabbing and pulling them back by the wrists when Dick moved too slowly. He chained them together, then scooted the table out of Dick's reach and retrieved the tray.
"I do have an ally," Dick said softly. "Thomas Wayne is my ally. Don't forget that, Alfred."
Relieved of his duties to Thomas and his new Talon, Alfred returned to Owlman's quarters. They had formerly been assigned to Batman, so Alfred had considered it a kind of poetic justice to claim it for a different scion of the Wayne family. The decoration was spartan but the suite was comfortable enough. He assumed that the other Pennyworth cooked for his own Wayne, since the tiny kitchenette was organized with a military efficiency of which Alfred approved. He quickly cleaned the breakfast dishes and sat down to his own meal. Thomas was out on his own errands.
This world was a puzzlement. Weakness was held in esteem and the downtrodden were not as exploited as they had been on their own earth. Here, there was an expectation that the strongest would protect the weak, or at least the former Justice League had claimed that for their mission. Ridiculous. Still, Thomas' remarks that morning troubled Alfred. He could almost think that his master was getting soft. He certainly hadn't been the same since Talon died.
He'd told this world's Dick Grayson the ugly truth of Talon's ending, but not all of it. This lad was an unknown quantity; it wouldn't do to reveal too many potentially damaging secrets.
Alfred poured himself his own cup of tea. It was the only luxury he permitted himself. Helping Thomas run all the gangs in Gotham City had taken most of his time. Since Thomas and the rest had escaped to this Earth, there hadn't been much time for retrospection. The butler took a sip, remembering.
"Can you hear me, Thomas?" Alfred had called over the radio to Owlman.
"Where's Talon?" Owlman responded.
"He isn't answering his comm-link. You should never have told him about his parents, sir. Or told him the truth about Barbara and the rest. You should've done what we always do. Lie!" Alfred knew that he sounded cross, but Thomas had completely ignored his wise advice.
"Just let me know when you find him," Owlman said. "Owlman out." Owlman began moving towards a cluster of police helicopters. Police radio reported that the Joker had been spotted. Owlman heard shots fired and swung from building to building at his top speed.
"We've lost visual on the Joker, sir," Alfred radioed him.
Owlman landed among a display of lit Christmas trees, decorating a small park in front of one of the buildings. This was the moment, the very moment that Owlman's world began to crumble...and in turn, Earth's.
"You could have told Richard another story about the death of his parents," Alfred said into the silence.
"He was going to find out, Alfred," Owlman said. "I thought it'd be better from me. Dick will understand. He'll..." Owlman's voice cut off.
Thomas found the body, what was left of it: six beautifully wrapped boxes in foil Christmas wrap with bows on them, for heaven's sake. The Joker had been perched up above, waiting gleefully for Owlman to find his 'gift'.
"Aren't you going to open them up?" the Joker giggled. "I wrapped them myself!"
Alfred heard the Joker's voice as well as Thomas' silence. "Thomas? What is it?"
"Talon." Thomas' voice was deeper than usual. Then he shouted, voice enraged. "I'm going to kill you for this, Joker!"
"Oh, I've heard that before!" Joker shouted back, sounding closer. I peered around the cover I'd taken. Thomas was hunched over the boxes, running a hand down the wrapping paper. Idiot!
Joker advanced on him from behind. "From your former partner in crime. Pick a card, Owlman. Any card."
Seeing that Thomas wasn't going to defend himself, Alfred raised his own shotgun and blasted Joker in the chest. " Always preferred chess, myself," Alfred said. "Those boxes? Is Talon...?"
"Yes," Thomas said, trying to gather the boxes into his arms.
"He went after the Joker because of what you said," The butler prompted. "Where were you?"
Thomas wouldn't look up, he just kept stacking the boxes, now dripping at the corners as he tied them together into a bundle.
"You were with her again, weren't you?" Thomas has been seeing a woman claimed by Ultraman. If Ultraman found out, everything would be over. And because Thomas wasn't...available...Talon had been out there alone, foolish boy.
"Dick got himself caught," Thomas said, barely audible. "This is his fault."
"Like what happened to me is my fault, Mr. Wayne? I didn't drop myself into the toxic waters of Gotham Bay." The voice came from Joker, lying at Alfred's feet. Not yet dead. They heard a hissing sound and a greenish spray propelled from the clown's boutonniere. It coated Alfred's face and he began to cry out.
"Oh, quite screaming. You deserve worse for what you've helped him do, Pennyworth," the Joker grumbled, shambling to his feet.
"Alfred!" Thomas cried and grabbed his friend's shoulders. "Alfred?"
The Joker's poison began to take effect, bringing uncontrollable laughter. "Hn...Hn...Ha..." Alfred struggled to control himself. "Heh...heh...hee...ha! Ha! Ha!" The Joker laughed along, then he stopped laughing...Alfred didn't. He couldn't, ever again.
While the butler laughed helplessly, Owlman dealt with the Joker, dropping him off the side of a building. Owlman returned swiftly and gave his friend the anti-venin and waited with me him while it took effect.
"I still need your assistance. With Talon Gone, I don't trust anyone on this planet more than you," he said.
"Ha! Haaa...haaaa..heh...heh..Yu...You shouldn't trust anyone. Ha," Alfred choked out.
Owlman took him back to Arkham Manor and sat with him while he recovered. Or at least as much as he could ever recover. Two days later, Ultraman summoned Owlman to Ultrapolis. The planet was being attacked by something...something new. The heroes of the Crime Syndicate gathered to try to save their dominions.
