Alfred somberly swept up the remains of what appeared to be wooden splinters and glass pieces, before emptying them into the trash.
His duty was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
"Master Dick, how good to see you sir," Alfred said as he bid Grayson welcome into the manor.
"Hey, Al. Longtime no see," Grayson said as he hugged the old man.
"Indeed. Can I persuade you to have some tea sir?"
"Got any sweetener?"
"Indubitably."
"I'm in!"
Dick ran to the kitchen and attempted to get the materials himself, only to be promptly escorted into the dining hall by Alfred, who returned to the kitchen to prepare the refreshments.
All these years and the old man hadn't changed.
Alfred always insisted that the kitchen was his domain and the preparation of meals and beverages was his unique privilege. There had been many a fight between the butler and the circus boy over whether or not he would be allowed to help the British gentlemen with the preparation and the cleaning of the dining utensils.
Good times.
While waiting for Alfred, Dick wandered around the Manor, eventually finding himself in the living room. His eyes wandered until he found a sizable square-shaped imprint where clearly a portrait once hung.
"Hey, isn't that where the picture of his par-"
"There you are Master Dick." Alfred said entering the room holding the tray of teacups filled to the brim.
"Thanks Alfred." Dick said as he and Alfred sat down, each taking a sip of their tea.
"Hey Al, what happened to the portrait of the Waynes?" Grayson asked pointing toward the vacant spot on the wall.
Alfred looked in the direction.
"Oh…a mere exercise in thorough cleaning Master Dick. Removing the picture was necessary to cleanse the vacant space of dust."
"Uh-huh" Dick nodded.
"So where's Bruce?" Dick asked standing up and putting his tea down.
"At Work." Replied the faithful butler.
"At the office?"
"At Work."
"Downstairs then. So, what are we dealing with?"
"I beg your pardon sir?"
"Why did he do it?"
"Do what?"
"Why did he blind the guy?"
"Blind the guy sir? I don't follow."
"Oh come on Al, it's me. Remember? 'Master Dick?' The second orphaned crime fighter you raised in this fortress of a house?
You don't have to play the Sergeant Shultz-I-know-nothing-gag with me. You had to have heard the news. Now, why did he do it?"
Alfred sighed heavily. "I can't tell you Master Dick-"
"Al-"
"-because I don't know my self. He has not seen fit to tell me."
Dick sighed.
"Alright, at least tell me this: what really happen to the portrait of the Waynes?"
Alfred stood up with a sigh. "That I can tell you. I was awoken in the early hours by the sound of deafening roar, followed by the thick cracking sounds.
Naturally, I resolved to trace the origins of these dreadful noises posthaste."
"I have raised Master Bruce his whole life and have spent a sizeable portion of my own doing so. I have seen it all. I have seen him brood. I have seen him bleed. I have seen him broken. But what I observed him doing in this room did more to provoke me to alarm than anything I have ever seen."
Dick's eyebrow arched.
"I arrived just in time to see Master Bruce in uniform, sans the cowl, slamming the portrait against the ground and what ever happened to be near by. I made a motion to stop him at once, only to be violently shoved backward for my troubles."
Grayson's eyes widened.
"He dashed the frame to the ground and opened the clock entrance and strongly urged that I not follow him into the cave under penalty of severe reprisal. Unable to confront him, I resolved to tune in to the local news, hopping to discover anything that might have pushed him to this far. Within roughly 30 minutes I heard about his excessive attack on the young delinquent. Before I could process my reaction, Ms. Gordon telephoned, insisting that she speak with him. Knowing that reaching him would be impossible I communicated that he was beyond reach at the moment."
"I sat in front of the television trying to collect my thoughts, trying to wonder what would provoke him to such rage. And thus I remained for about an hour. When it became apparent that I would not get any answers from him or the media circus I proceeded to clean the fruit's of Master Bruce's outburst. I was just finishing the task when you arrived."
Dick's face was a solemn mask. He took a deep breath, interlocked his hands behind his head, wrapped his arms around the sides of his skull, and began to pace.
He had hoped that Alfred would give him something that could help him find a simplified path to Bruce's state of mind. To better prepare him for the confrontation. Instead, this information made it harder. Getting Batman to talk to you at all is hard enough. Getting him to explain his behavior when he's angry is nigh impossible.
But this…
This wasn't just anger. This was something else. Something worse. This was some dark uncharted territory and was going to be much harder than he thought. Whatever it was, it not only made him blind a man in his mid to late 20s, but it also made him desecrate the portrait of his parents. What could make him do that?
Dick stopped pacing, and resumed his at ease position.
"Well I guess I'll have to go ask him personally," the first boy wonder said as he made his way to the clock entrance.
"Master Dick, I would heavily advise against that."
"Oh, come on Alfred. Something is seriously wrong here and we have to find out what it is."
"I understand that sir, but I would recommend you not enter the cave."
"Why not?
"When Master Bruce entered the cave he announced that he was activating the Omega Security Protocol. That is why I could not confront him."
"The OMEGA Protocol? You mean the one that programs the surveillance equipment to activate non-lethal, but very painful counter measures designed to take out meta-humans if it detects bio-signatures that don't match his DNA?"
"The very one."
"Huh." Dick responded.
He shrugged.
"Oh well, I guess I'll have to disable the security and sneak in to the cave," Dick said as he headed outside to his car.
Dick opened his trunk and pulled out a bag and made his way back into the Manor.
"Pardon me, Master Dick, but how, pray tell, do you intend to deactivate the security?"
"Oh that's easy." Dick responded grabbing his Nightwing gear.
"I once roomed with a guy who was an actual Cyborg. I had to have learned SOMETHING about advanced technology. The hard part will be getting him to talk once I get to him."
"Indeed sir."
"Wish me luck Al."
"Godspeed lad," said the gentlemen butler.
"Thanks," replied the former Robin as he finished dawning his Nightwing suit.