Chapter 2
The rat-tat-tatatatatatatata-tat that could be clearly heard even from the back kitchens drove Alfred to the front door. He checked a nearby clock. Who in blazes knocks at the ungodly hour of three in the morning? He turned to peer at the Upper floors of the house. Surely Master Tim hadn't decided to order pizza as a midnight snack? It wouldn't be the first time, he mused.
The pains of a butler, indeed.
"Mister West, I trust this visit isn't a social one."
"How'd you? Oh, never mind…" the Scarlet Speedster shuffled his feet, "Say, uh… uh…"
"Is something the matter? Surely there is, something of importance?" A tinge of concern seemed to gloss over the butler's stoic face. Such subtle expressions were usually lost on the majority of the people he'd met. The Flash was one of them.
Is he angry at me? Yeah, go shoot the messenger. Sheesh, gimme a break! Count to ten Flash… ten… nine… he still there? Flash sneaked a peek from his study of his shoes. Ah… shoot:
Bang.
Biff.
"We, that is, the Justice League, have reason to believe that Batman has been, uh…"
Injured? Damaged? Disabled?
"…hurt."
Pow.
"Hurt? How bad is this… hurt?" Alfred's spine went rigid as he stared at his master's colleague.
"Well, uh, physically, nothing, at least compared to what he usually…" he floundered, searching for a word that just seemed to elude him.
Gets? Acquires? Faces?
"Sustains, sir?"
"Yeah, that, but uh, we had a run in with Morgaine le Faye, and she cursed him."
"And I thought she only existed in the Arthurian legends of old."
"Really? He didn't tell you about the time—well, I suppose he wouldn't. Anyway, she said something about "back to when you were most weak" or some sort of hocus pocus. Wonder Woman thought it'd be good to let you know…"
By now Wally had got steadily more uncomfortable under the valet's stare. Alfred himself had got steadily more concerned for his ward 'Master or no.' It was not customary for the League to inform him of Master Bruce's injuries, no matter how badly mangled the stubborn man had managed to get himself.
Of course, the Flash's choice of words weren't helping in the slightest.
"I wonder… Mister West, would it be possible for me to visit Master Bruce?"
A relieved grin finally spread across the Flash's face.
"Yeah, I was hoping you'd say that."
"Very well, if you would care to come in, I will pack a few items and be with you shortly."
It took a minute for Alfred to walk to his quarters, another to pack a carpet bag suitcase, and yet a third to ponder over a dusty cardboard box that lay atop his cupboard.
"I wonder…"
There was nothing of great value in the box, personally anyway, and the box itself had definitely seen better days. He began to wonder exactly why he was thinking over its contents, except for the fact that something Mister West had said seemed to nag at him.
Hopefully, he'll at least find some satirical element in my efforts.
It took him thirty seconds to fish through the box's contents, place a few additional items in his bag, and hurry back out to the hallway.
"Shall we proceed?"
Flash spun around in surprise. Man, he's as silent as Black, Dark and Moody! Why am I even surprised, eh?
"Hold on old man, bumpy ride ahead. First we run, or rather, I run us, to some weird obscure location, and then our molecules get diced and rejoined as we're teleported up to the big shiny thi-- uh, Watchtower!"
The butler responded with an audible gulp. Flash grinned.
"I knew there was a reason I'd loathed espionage."
