CHAPTER SEVEN
"The 'J' Scar"
With the Bat Cave housed within hard bedrock that Bruce Wayne painstaking hollowed out in secret over the years, it was always a chore to dust. From the constant minute crumbling of basic earth movement to simple human interaction, the Bat Cave seemed to always need dusting.
And it fell onto Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne Manor butler, to keep it clean. And to feed the bats.
He never grumbled about it and he took great joy in doing it. Besides, he often found himself immersed in its grandiose and the collective hardware housed within — computerized and one-of-a-kind vehicles; weaponized gadgets; and its basic history — and he admired the trophies Master Bruce had consigned over the years during his years of crime fighting, amongst the many costumes he had worn — all in separate display cases.
The costumes circled the Bat Cave like war memorials. Much like every costume Master Dick, Master Jason, Master Tim, and Master Damian had worn in their shared plight with Bruce Wayne as Batman. And these were just the top lineage of costumes over the years — the special, often worn only once costumes, to fight the worse criminals imaginable, that needed that unique touch of ingenuity, the edge needed to beat the unbeatable!
The costumes used mostly these days were housed in the changing chamber just to the right of the main area.
Time and time again, Alfred found himself wondering what his young master's life would have been like if his parents had not been murdered that fateful night returning from a downtown matinee. Or how the other's lives would have been like if none of what Bruce Wayne had experienced as a child had come to pass, and how during one day, as he was wandering the grounds, fell into a secret hidden underground cavern of bat caves underneath the Wayne Manor property, and had been inspired by these nocturnal, unique creatures, to take on the mantle of The Batman in Gotham City, to protect citizenry from the evil that infested it. So no one had to experience what he had gone through, in losing his parents, the grief it had caused, to turn him into the seemingly "angry" man he was today.
Unfortunately, history often repeated itself, and much like Master Wayne's parents, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd's parents met a similar fate. Both came from circus acrobatic backgrounds and both had their parents murdered by criminals out to prove a point, and both came to become wards of the state of Bruce Wayne. However, despite them undertaking the role of Bruce's partner — as Robin — their lives both took dramatic turns of separation. Dick quit being Robin, and later chose the name Nightwing (a special name he chose from a tale Superman had told him from his planet of Krypton about a hero who saved its people from a dangerous threat long before the planet exploded), and Jason Todd, died at a young age after he was beaten to death with a crowbar by the Joker, later resurrected with the help of Ra's al Ghul, and a mysterious spring of life known as the Lazarus Pit that had godly powers of healing.
Next came Timothy Drake, who then took over the role of Robin. He had run away from his parents to get away from his abusive father — figuring out very quickly Bruce and Dick's secret (a vastly intelligent boy). But later learned due to his actions caused the death of his mother. A workaholic, he put his best foot forward into everything he did, and was designated (unofficially) as the Bat Family's 'Quartermaster' of gadgetry. When Damian came into the fray, the whole dynamic of the family changed, because for the first time there were two Robins.
With increasing tension between them, Tim Drake opted to step down from the Robin persona and adopted the name Red Robin — after the red breasted Robin, the commonly referred name to the American bird. It was a simple enough change to distinguish the two and it suited Tim Drake because his favourite colour was red. His continued presence still stuck in Damian's craw, however. Damian, the biological son of Bruce Wayne, and Talia al Ghul, the daughter of Ra's al Ghul, was raised by his mother until he was twelve years old and trained almost at birth with the League of Assassins, so he knew how to fight when he joined the family.
And then there were other interim members who came and went while the main family spread their wings elsewhere to try new things. But in the end, each Robin came back home to the nest, and they became a solid unit. And seeing them all interact with each other, watching them grow as a team, as family, brought a smile to Alfred's face. He, himself, had relationships in his younger years, but none brought a brighter beam to his face than the Wayne family.
As he dusted, the roar of a motorcycle echoed from behind him. He turned and saw Red Hood drive up onto the main platform. Jason had entered via the secret entrance tunnel sleuth ways. Seated behind him was Tim Drake dressed seemingly like Red Robin, but wearing Jason's light brown jacket. Nightwing had told them he would meet them there after he dealt with any loose ends at the scene, including paying the shore owner Drake got the flamethrower from.
When Jason dismounted the bike, Alfred noticed the state of their attire. He inquired: "Tough mission, sirs?"
"You don't know the half of it, Al," Jason answered, taking off his helmet. Drake also took off his mask and gave Jason back his jacket. Jason noticed globs of white hydrocortisone cream and red on the inside of the material. "I'll bill you for the dry-cleaning or a replacement if the blood won't come out."
"Ha-ha," Drake replied dryly. He then responded to Alfred's inquiry. "Freeze had this crazy new Ice Acid gun weapon, Alfred." Drake touched the scars on his bare chest and displayed his burnt finger-tipped hands. "It burned like heck on my skin, like dry-ice but with even more severity."
"Will you be all-right, Master Tim?"
"I'll survive," Drake said. "But it smarts like a son-of-a-gun!"
Alfred then asked, "Where is you equipment, Master Tim?"
"Dick has it," he said, then explained further. Due to his injuries, Drake couldn't bring his equipment back with him he had left at the scene, so Nightwing offered to bring back everything, storing it in the trunk of his black, non-descriptive-looking sedan, he had driven to meet Jason with. "I'll collect it later. Thank heavens Dick has his car or we've up a creek with a paddle dragging it back with us."
"You mean that piece of a crap? He needs to get himself a motorcycle like me. A sedan is a daddy's car."
"I heard that!" Nightwing came out from a corner of the hidden tunnel where he had parked his sedan in another area of the Bat Cave. He had come in the secret entrance further behind them. "For the record, my car is not a piece of crap. It's supped-up for crime fighting when called for. I used something similar in Bludhaven and it came in handy. I've had it detailed and painted black for obviously reasons. And it has a name, the Nightbird."
He greeted Alfred, calling him Alfie. In Bruce's presence, everyone called Alfred by his proper name, except Damian, who called people by their surname, or Bruce — Father. But Bruce wasn't here, so he called Alfred by the affectionate nickname. Alfred didn't seem to mind.
Nightwing unmasked. "Oh boy," Dick breathed. "The owner of the jewelry store is really pissed, you guys. He's demanding we pay for all damages even though Freeze did most of it. I told him he'd have to make a complaint with the GCPD, and we'll go from there. But I told him to contact his insurance company."
"Nothing was taken, all his jewels were saved. Some people have no gratitude," Jason grumbled.
Drake put on a shirt, but everywhere the Ice Acid had touched was so sensitive to the touch. He hissed with pain and Dick saw this, and went over. "It's going to take some time for those wounds to heal. You should take some time off and rest. And, if you're able, take a bath in some Epsom salts. It'll cool any rawness of the skin and help it heal faster. I use it. Alfred — if you'd could draw a bath for Tim?"
"Of course, sir," the dutiful butler said. "But before I do so, sir, a package came for you, Master Dick." He handed it to Grayson. "At first, I thought someone had made either a mistake or was trying their hand at crude humour by way of the name, but as it came hand delivered via a wayward clandestine courier wearing archaic Middle Eastern clothing, I ventured it was indeed real."
Grayson looked at the name on the label. There was no forward address — just a name. He then gave Jason a strange look, a glance of cockeye and disbelief. "Seriously? Mr. Richard Head? Dick-Head?" He handed the oblong package to Jason with a shove. "You have some nerve."
Jason clutched it with both hands and seemed to juggle it protectively, but with a smile. "Hey, it was funny. Besides, the courier knew where to come." He looked at Alfred. "Did it come with any message, Al?"
"No message, sir," the butler said. "The courier entered the Manor grounds, approached the front doors — activated the silent alarm, which then alerted the computer to me down here. I was going to send Titus, but then saw his clothes, and had an inkling of whom the package many have been sent from, it's not the first time. I answered the door, the courier handed me the package, pointed to the name on the label, and then left the way he came."
"Ah, another package from Ra's, I bet. I normally get them delivered elsewhere. But the courier must not have found me at the usual rendezvous place and came here instead. I ask Ra's for a lot of things. This time I asked Ra's for something very special, and seeing Tim's scars, and knowing you have quite a lot yourself, Dick, I want to share this with you. And, of course, Bruce, Alfred, and the little Hell Spawn, too."
Dick asked where Damian was, and Alfred said he had the next two days off so he went to see Jon Kent, Superman's son. They had become good friends since most recently they joint ventures in crime fighting together. Of course, they also went to the same youth collegiate school. Jon Kent had called to see if Damian wanted to hang out, and Damian agreed, albeit if he could get some training in. Fighting Superman's son was a challenge in its own rite. So Jon Kent secretly flew over and picked Damian up. Ah, the wonders of being able to fly, Alfred thought.
Dick, Drake and Alfred all stepped closer to Jason, looking at the package.
"This is from Ra's al Ghul?" Dick questioned.
Jason nodded. "Ra's and I are in contact on a regular bases. And if I'm right, my medicine is here."
"Medicine?"
Jason unwrapped the plain brown wrapper and revealed what looked like an industrial stainless steel box. He had obviously received boxes like this before, Dick observed, because Jason then pushed back a small cover in the middle of the box and exposed a fingerprint reader. This was obviously to prevent anyone from accessing the contents if it fell into the wrong hands, Dick thought.
Jason pressed his right thumb to the reader and it flashed an electronic eye under a seemingly average looking black surface. It took a few seconds as if to confirm his identity, then flashed green, and the box hissed open as if pressure sealed. There sounded like a pop and Jason lifted the cover. Inside, within the protectiveness of cotton, were a dozen small vials of clear liquid each with a small plastic screw top.
Jason took one, raised it, and brought it into view. "Perfect," he said, and went to screw off the top.
Dick halted him. "Wait Jason, tell us what this is. What kind of medicine did Ra's sent you? Are you sick?"
"No, I'm not sick; quite the opposite in fact. Fit as a fiddle. It's not conventional medicine. It's water from the Lazarus Pit," Jason said openly. He passed the box to Dick as he swigged the liquid in the vial down his throat as if he was taking a shot of vodka, wasting none of it, even licking the ends. Jason seemed to saviour it as he swallowed it.
Dick looked at the other eleven vials, then took one out of the box — gazed longingly at it. He then gave it to Tim. "Have it analyzed for any harmful effects. Is this Lazarus Pit water or something else?"
Tim agreed, and went to the Batcomputer analyzer. He took a sample with an eye dropper and placed a drop of water behind two small slates of glass, then placed the sample into the analyzer, closing the lid. The analyzer took a few moments to warm up. He sat, typed at the console. Readied, and then began the test when able.
Jason looked at him. "You don't trust me?"
"Just being cautious," Dick said. "It may be some intoxicating drug. I know you, Jason. We caught you taking drugs from the Bat Cave medical cabinet. You've dabbled in the drug trade before; we've even tangled on the issue; you even spent some time behind bars because of associative criminal actions — and if I recall the suicide rate increased in the prison you were held in. You never explained why. But, like I said, I'm just being cautious."
Jason rolled his eyes and then crossed his arms across his chest, then said: "Wanna wager? Twenty bucks! I'm a little short and I need some money for smokes. By the way, can I have my cigarette case back?"
Dick was about to say something in response, when Tim swivelled in his chair at the Batcomputer. "No need, the analyses just came back. He's telling the truth, Dick. It's fresh water, per se, from the European continent. It could be from the Lazarus Pit, but I've never had a sample to document."
"Ra's actually sent you fresh water from the Lazarus Pit?" When Jason nodded, Dick then said, "Why?"
"Medicine, I told you!" Jason took the box back. "And, as you know, it has amazing healing properties. The Lazarus Pit can restore life. But in small qualities, its water can prevent sickness and disease, heal wounds, and keep a person young and healthy — like yours truly."
Dick looked at him with some skepticism. But when Jason put a finger to just underneath his right eye, tapping a spot as if indicating an unnoticed clue, that was when Dick suddenly believed the validity of Jason's claim. Dick looked closer. "The 'J' scar…I never noticed it until now. It's faded a lot. I can't believe I never noticed until now. Not even when you showed it to Freeze. You took a huge gambit showing it to him."
"Really?" Tim came over to stand next him. "Yeah, come to think of it. It has faded a lot."
"I've been treating the scar with the water. Deep scars take time, but the water does work. And when you drink it, the water works internally, revitalizing the body healing any scar tissue or organ damage. It's not a miracle cure by any sense of the term — or maybe, yes — but it helps keep my body healthy after my resurrection. Ra's told me I had to use it to. Let's just say, so things don't rot. I am, technically, a zombie." He laughed.
Dick was shocked.
"Remarkable," Alfred chimed in after being silent for so long. He stepped close to Jason and leaned in close to his face. Jason just stood still as the elderly man looked. "I thought I noticed a change, but I couldn't be sure." Alfred then backed off. "You kept this a secret from everyone? Why?"
"I had to, Ra's said if anyone found out about the water it could cause trouble. How in the hell Freeze found out about the Lazarus Pit is beyond me. Ra's won't take kindly to any visitors."
"Then we need to dissuade Freeze," Dick said.
"I've been thinking about that, and I think we should give Freeze exactly what he wants."
"Are you crazy?" Tim said. "He could resurrect the dead like some bad Mummy movie."
"Over the years, we've known you do engage in some outrageous ventures with odd behaviours, but I have to concur with Master Dick, and Master Tim…Master Jason, are you out of your mind?" Alfred said.
Jason put a reassuring hand on the butler's shoulder and smiled. "Hey Al, Joker did some crazy shit to me, but give me some credit. Drake's not the only with smarts. I have a plan."
To be continued…
