The "Big Mutant On Campus" Series
By David D. Amaya
Part Eight "A Knight on the Town"
Chapter 21
Disclaimer: As per usual is at the beginning of the journey.
"Where am I? What happened?"
"As to the what, you were electrocuted, Agent Nichols," Dr. Thompkins replied as she placed a stethoscope on his chest. "Please breathe deeply for me. I was contacted by some rough customers who found you bandaged up over at the Card Sharp," She explain using the story Barbara gave her. "As for where, they also made me promise not to call the cops. They didn't want me to risk taking you to St. Luke's because they mentioned the Riddler might have more goons, so we're at the residence of an old family friend.
"Breathe normally, if you please. You see, they might not always walk on the side of angels, but they never forget someone who buys them a drink, even if they wear a badge. So I didn't call the police."
"As fate would have it, I was not bound to that oath, so I contacted the authorities on Dr. Thompkins' behalf. I have been assured by Detective Montoya that all the ruffians you encountered shall be collected by the police."
Suddenly Kordel rose up. "The children! What happened to the kids!?"
"Please lie down, young man!" Dr. Thompkins pleaded with him. "You're still weakened and you have second degree burns on the back of your legs!"
"The children I was attempting to rescue, where are they!?"
Dr. Thompkins reached into her coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. "This was pinned to your coveralls, this may help to explain."
Sitting up, and ignoring the pain, Kordel opened the envelope. Inside was a printed letter, which he read aloud;
"Agent Nichols,
"All four of the children are uninjured, but due to the events of this evening, I am holding them in a secure location, safe from harm. I'll contact you through Gotham City Police Commissioner James Gordon. Please rest assured they will be reunited with you, soon.
"Don't worry about your gear," He continued to read. "I have taken your equipment and weapons, I will mail them back to you, once you recover and return to active duty."
Where the signature would be found a large 'B' was stenciled.
"What is it, Kordel?" came a new voice to the room. The Secret Service agent looked to the door and saw Bruce Wayne at the doorway, dressed in a large blue robe. "Any news on Tim and the others?"
"It seems this city's self-appointed primary vigilante, has kidnapped the children, and stolen all of my equipment, Mr. Wayne," Kordel crumpled the paper and threw it against the far wall, where it bounced into a wastepaper basket. He threw off the sheet covering his body and noticed that he was clothed in a hospital gown and both of his legs were heavily bandaged. "Dr. Thompkins, where are my clothes?"
"When we arrived to take you to the clinic, all you had on was burned up coveralls, which were destroyed," Leslie replied. In truth Kordel's tactical uniform and the tuxedo pants he had on underneath were wearable, only the legs were singed. But, since Bruce told her he would replace it himself, and considering that she knew just what Bruce would have done in a similar situation, (especially since he HAS done just that before), she didn't feel bad that she left them at her clinic.
"Although, I made sure I saved your badge and all your patches for you," She reached into a desk drawer and pulled out several items. She handed him his duty wallet, containing his Secret Service identification and full-size badge, and several Velcro-backed embroidered identification patches from his tactical uniform; the replica Secret Service badge and a sublimated American flag that adorned his shoulders, and the nameplate that fastens above to his right chest pocket. The only patches missing was the large 'POLICE-SECRET SERVICE' patch that attaches to his field pack, and the embroidered badge and nameplates that cover his ballistic vest. Both obliviously among the items retained by the Batman.
"I thank you very much for that, Doctor," he replied then turned towards Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, what size do you wear?"
Yep, Leslie thought. Just like Bruce. "What are you playing at, young man?" She asked him aloud.
"I must be ready when they make their escape attempt," Kordel swung his bandaged legs over, sat on the edge of the bed, and put pressure on his feet as he attempted to stand. He did not cry out, or wince, but all three in the room knew the amount of pain he was in just by his eyes alone.
"You do not intend to repeat your performance at the zoo and attempt to liberate the children again, do you Kordel?"
"This is by far not the worst injury I have faced in the line of duty, Alfred," Kordel bravely replied as he stood, but his eyes again betrayed the celebrated bravado of the Secret Service. The three Gothamites now believing the Boston native's surviving a trip to the electric chair may have displaced his getting shot during the rescue of Cyrus Parkman.
"I have spent eighteen mo- I mean eighteen days in the hospital after the Staircase 3 incident. Who am I to say it is acceptable to stay in bed for one moment while my students are not safe! Those children would not have willing have left with a masked vigilante and they WILL fight their way out of their current situation as they have several times this night. If they are fighting for their lives, I owe them that much to be there to assist them! If risking my life to affect a successful rescue mission is good enough for the son of the President of the United States of America, why should four teenagers warrant any less from me?"
He took a step, but the IV lines and electrical sensor leads stopped him from continuing. "Dr. Thompkins, will you please remove these intravenous lines."
"It is my expert medical opinion that you stay and rest, Agent Nichols," Leslie replied. "You have two massive second-degree burns to your legs. If you do not receive proper, supervised, fluid resuscitation, you may suffer renal failure, or worse, and you should not risk it!"
"I, once again, thank you for all your medical assistance," Kordel expressed genuine gratitude towards the doctor. "but the first lesson I learned from our most decorated field agent was, quote; 'Risk is our business, and when business is a-boomin', it's time to punch in!' Unquote. So I will ask you again, please remove these medical implements."
Dr. Thompkins knew that there is nothing that she can legally do or say that can keep Kordel within her care, but she decides to deal with him as she has the Batman. SEVERAL TIMES OVER.
"Look, young man. Your dedication is not in question, but your health is! There is still a chance of thypovolaemic shock. What good are you to your students if you succumb to your injuries? What should I tell your family if you die from being pig-headed?"
"Inform Police Commissioner Gordon of my death first," was his reply. "Tell him that Charlie Block knows how to find my will. Then tell my Aunt Rose that this Blue Collar peon died doing his duty! Now, Dr. Thompkins, though I am capable of removing these lines from my body, I shall ask you, for the last time. Please, remove these implements, RIGHT NOW."
"Leslie," Bruce spoke up. "I cannot be party to having a Secret Service agent held inside my family's home against his will, even at the risk of his own life. Alfred, please fetch Kordel a change of clothes, casual should do," The Englishman left the room without another word. "I'm a 36 regular, will that do, Kordel?"
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Wayne," Kordel winced again as he attempted to move closer to a chair next to the bedside.
"Allow me to help out, Kordel," Bruce walked up to the Secret Service agent. "I'll remove all those wires off your chest," Bruce swiftly and deftly removed all 12 leads off of Kordel. "A little trick I learned, if you do it fast enough it doesn't hurt."
A moment later Kordel groaned, then slumped unconscious once more as Alfred returned to the room with a small pile of clothes. If Bruce wasn't standing in front of him, The Secret Service Agent would have fell to the floor.
"Alfred, please help Bruce place Kordel back into bed," Leslie replied. "It would seem that all the excitement just went to his head."
"It would seem that Kordel was subject to a dozen Choy Li Fut open palm nerve strikes to all three thoracic cavity energy centers, Dr. Thompkins," Alfred replies as he sat the clothes down on a nearby table, then helped return the Secret Service Agent to the bed. "I dare say this will set a dangerous precedent, Master Bruce."
"In what way, Alfred?" Bruce asked.
"When you next find yourself in a similar situation, the good doctor now knows a way to keep you in her custody long enough for you to fully recover."
"And speaking of recovery," Dr. Thompkins said as she replaced the sheet on Kordel's prone form. "I would like to examine the children now, if it's all right with you, Bruce," She gathered her medical bag and headed for the door.
"Of course, Leslie," Bruce opened the door for the doctor of Crime Alley. "I'll take you to the Cave."
"And I shall check on Master Timothy's progress, if you will excuse me Doctor, Master Bruce," the English retainer left them and headed towards the kitchen, once he entered, he saw that Tim was in the final bites of a banana.
"How are the croissants doing, Master Timothy?"
He threw the banana peel in the trash and picked up a kitchen timer. "Just put them in a few minutes ago, Alfred. According to this we have twenty more minutes till there done."
"And how are our young guests doing?"
"Barbara and Dick say they'll be out for at least another hour or two. How's Agent Nichols doing?"
"The good doctor has just realized that Kordel truly is everything Master Bruce is, excluding the flying mammal-themed equipment and lair."
"He tried to make a break for it, didn't he?" Alfred nodded. "I got a vibe from Jubes that he would when we were held by the Jailbird."
"Luckily for Kordel, Master Bruce is schooled in the qi conceptions of the flow of life-force energies," he explained. "But much like Master Bruce, young Kordel turned into what he apparently was destined for."
"You said that you met him before, when did you meet him?"
The Wayne family retainer poured both of them a glass of apple juice. "While we await the baked goods to finish, allow me to tell you of the time, over twenty years ago, I met a wealthy, self-centered, New England élitist…
"…And her newly orphaned nephew.
"It was two decades ago, when the young man was but five years old, Master Timothy," He told the Squire of Gotham's Dark Knight. "Roslyn Sweeney, young Kordel's aunt, was meeting with Dr. and Mrs. Wayne. You see, they had recently acquired majority interest in Paine-Adams & Co. LLC, which at the time was one of New England's oldest independent, privately held investment management firm. It was no secret at the time that the acquisition made was by a dearly departed friend of Mrs. Wayne's, who willed her his controlling partnership in the company, with the expressed request that it be sold and the funds utilized as an posthumous donation to the various causes and charities that she championed. So she had let it be known in some of the finer circles, that the proxies would be sold to the right person."
"Like Agent Nichols' aunt?"
"Precisely, Master Timothy. She called upon the House of Wayne to negotiate the sale of that stake in the company, but young Kordel was forced to accompany his aunt to this very stately manor."
"She too cheap to hire a sitter?"
"Hardly, Master Timothy. It was young Kordel who held majority interest in his family's investment firm, now Nichols-Sweeny, since the death of his loving parents," He explained to the civilian-clothed Robin. "Just as he still does today. So despite his youth, legally, his signature, such as it was, would be required if an agreement would have been reached."
"Ah, Martha! Thomas!" the Boston socialite feigns glee skillfully. "It must have been ages since Bambi and Stanton Vreeland's baby soiree!" She air kisses both as she enters Wayne Manor. Then hands her fur coat to Alfred, making sure to do so with as much space between her and the Wayne's valet as possible. "This is Kordel, my brother's heir."
The five-year-old boy held out his right hand. "Good morning to you, Dr. Wayne," he said as he shook the esteemed doctor's hand. Then he extended it to his wife. "A pleasure to meet you, ma'am."
"My, what a polite young man!" Martha's smile make Kordel feel better about coming to this eerie-looking house with his Aunt Rose. "Well, Kordel, you are just as well mannered as your father, Tobias, and you're a splitting image of your mother, too!" This comment caused a slight scoff from Rose, but was missed by the Wayne's.
But not their faithful butler.
"What Ms. Sweeney did not know, was that Mrs. Wayne specifically requested that I gave certain input about all potential purchasers."
"She wouldn't sell it to anyone who acts the way Bruce pretends to be now?"
"Another astute observation, Master Timothy."
"Kordel," Thomas placed a warm gentle hand on the young man's shoulder. "This is our son, Bruce. Bruce, I would like you to meet the son of a good friend of the family, Kordel Nichols."
The young man from Boston, who lost his parents in a yachting accident six months ago, extended his hand to the eight-year-old, who would lose both his loving parents to a mugger's gun in just three weeks time. The destined heroes shook hands.
"Hello, Bruce," the boy, who would one day grow up to rescue the son of a future President as an agent of the Secret Service, replied nervously.
"Hi, Kordel," the boy who would one day dedicate his life to combat crime in Gotham City as Batman, grinned at him. "And this is our preserver, Alfred Pennyworth."
"That's 'retainer', Master Bruce. It is a pleasure, Master Kordel."
"Good day to you, Mr. Pennyworth," Young Kordel extended his hand to the Englishman. When the two shook hands, Rose looked aghast that her nephew would interact with 'a domestic'.
"Indeed a pleasure, young man," Alfred replied. "Please call me, Alfred, if you will."
"Of course, Mr. Alfred, sir."
"Master Bruce, why don't you take our esteemed guest into the study, I have taken the liberty to have arranged some of your favorite board games for the two of you while your parents and Ms. Sweeney discuss their important business matter."
"Okay, Alfred. The study is this way, Kordel, I'll show you," Then the two future billionaires walked out of the room with Alfred, like two well bred children should…
At least until they exited the foyer.
"It's the seventh door on the left, Kordel, RACE YA!"
Then the two children they ARE, dashed down the hallway leaving the Englishman to walk behind them in their wake.
"Hump," Rose remarked one she assumed he was out of earshot. "Such uncouth manners!"
"Don't be so harsh, Rose," Dr. Wayne remarked as he indicated they all sit by the fire in the sitting room. "As they say, 'Boys will be boys.'"
"I was referring to the Help putting their filthy hands on that of their betters, Thomas!" she replied with venom in her voice. "I would not want my brother's son to believe that those of the lower classes should fraternize those of the upper echelon."
"I completely understand your concerns, Roslyn," Martha pated her hand in 'empathy'. "So why don't we just get to the subject at hand. Alfred, may I speak with you for a moment in the hallway?"
"Of course, Ma'am."
"So you weren't eavesdropping on Agent Nichols' aunt the whole time?"
"Hardly, but I was informed by Mrs. Wayne at that moment she had already made up her mind that they would not sell to that, insufferable woman, and was later informed by Dr. Wayne that he reached that conclusion as well before Kordel exited the room with young Master Bruce," Alfred explained. "The Wayne's wanted to make sure that not selling controlling partnership in Paine-Adams to Ms. Sweeney would not jeopardize her nephew's future in any way, so I was to observe young Kordel's potential."
"They were afraid if he was spoiled rotten then he would grow up to be, well that Tony Stark-routine Bruce acts like in the daytime?"
"Precisely, young man, but what I saw of young Kordel Nichols that day, I believe, helped inspire young Bruce, to be more like Kordel later in life."
"Okay, Kordel," Bruce said after catching his breath. "Alfred already set up all my favorite games, but since you won, you get to go first!"
"Thank you, Bruce," The six-year-old from Boston looked over the games that were laid out in the Wayne Manor study. "Do you like to play chess?"
"My mom beats me all the time. She says I need to concentrate on my moves instead of trying to race through a game. What about Scrabble?"
"No one likes the fact that I spell words out British-style."
"Alfred does that, too. He always lands on the triple word score spaces."
"What about Operation, Bruce?"
"My Dad's a surgeon, he can beat all of us blind-folded and left handed."
"I am left-handed, too, Bruce," Kordel informs him. He then looks over to the English gentleman. "What game would you choose, Mr. Alfred, sir?
"How about this one," He handed the young boy from New England a game called 'Big Blue Marble.' "This game is about raising monies, Master Kordel."
"He did not reply, Master Timothy, but the look on the boy's face spoke volumes."
"He hates Monopoly I take it?"
"I don't like Monopoly, either, Alfred," Bruce chimed in as well.
"The rules of this game differ from the real estate game, young sirs," he informed them. "This game requires that you attain funding for various philanthropic endeavors."
"So we have to raise money for charity, kinda like what mom and dad do?"
"Precisely, Master Bruce. The challenge of the game is finding the right philanthropists to contribute to your worthy causes, based upon their corporate image, the type of charities they have given too in the past and awareness of the causes the player has been assigned at the beginning of the game, as well as random events preventing your fund raising efforts."
"Like what, Mr. Alfred, sir?"
"Inclement weather during your outdoor awareness event lessens the amount collected from a large crowd for one, Master Kordel. What do you say?"
"Okay, Mr. Alfred, sir, we'll try that one," Kordel replied. "At least it's money put to good use."
"As the two future bastions of philanthropy found out at such a young age, it is rather difficult to obtain funding for truly worthy causes," He continued to tell Tim after refilling his apple juice. "Certain of their behavior, I attended to the Wayne's and their guest."
"The apple must of fell far from that tree."
"More like an orange living amongst a barrel of rotten apples to build upon your metaphor, Master Timothy."
"What makes you say that?"
"After Ms. Sweeney decided to grace us with her departure," He explained to the young man. "Dr. Wayne informed me that the gravest insult to her person was to compare young Kordel to his loving mother, or to wish that he follow in his parents footsteps. That was never more evident than when they were preparing to leave this grand manor."
"What did she do?"
"It was what young Kordel did, Master Timothy," He explained. "He took me aside, and with Young Master Bruce, and Mrs. Wayne unintentionally watching, apologized for the crass lack of manners displayed by his aunt. I shall never forget his last words, until I called upon him at his hotel suite;"
"Mr. Alfred, sir, if it is not to forward?" Young Kordel asked. "My Aunt Rose may think that she is better than everyone she meets, because my grandfather's money makes her think she is of better quality than everyone else. But my mother once told me; 'You can either act superior, or just be superior. You start with respect, which means treating everybody that you meet with dignity, until they deserve otherwise.' I think I finally know what she meant by that." He extended his right hand at the English retainer. "I would like to apologize for her snootiness, since she never will."
Standing behind the young man, Martha and young Bruce looked on, while she smiled at the young man's display of moral principles and etiquette beyond his six years, and she gave Bruce's hand a loving squeeze, hoping he takes this significant example to heart.
Alfred took the offered hand into his and shook it firmly. "Though I thank you for noting the difference between upper class and true class, Master Kordel, I accept on your behalf alone. But, if anyone asks me, this conversation never took place."
"So he's where Bruce learned that?"
"Yes, Master Timothy. Much like Kordel's mother and father, Mr. And Mrs. Wayne gave to young Bruce more than fortune. The true riches Master Bruce and young Kordel inherited from their families was the love and happiness they bestowed upon them. They gave their sons more than any child could hope for, despite being taken from them all too soon. In the end the Wayne's sold the Proxies to another friend, Warren Worthington, Sr, who parlayed those shares into what is now Worthington Industries," A timer bell dinged.
"And there's the bell!" Tim hoped off the counter stool grabbing a pair of oven mitts and removed a freshly baked batch of pastries from the oven. While Alfred put the finishing touches on them, Tim went to the cereal cupboard and grabbed all five of them for his friends for breakfast; Sir Grapefellow (Barbra's favorite) Baron Von Redberry (Dick's favorite and Arch enemy of Sir Grapefellow!) Chocolate Covered Sugar Bombs (Tim's favorite,) and Cranberry Comet Clusters (which Clark likes to eat whenever he's in town) and a box he found of Toffee Flavoured Frosties. (A box imported from England that only Lois and Leslie knows are Alfred's favorite!)
"I hope they're hungry," Tim packing the boxes and bowls for the trip down to the Batcave for its resident combatants of crime and their guests. "Those chocolate and almond croissants smell good!"
"Thank you, Master Timothy," Alfred carefully placed the pastries in a plastic container. "It is a new recipe I came across on the internet, please tell me your companions opinions of them."
They also collected several fruit choices for their slumbering guests, including bananas, strawberries, and mango slices to add to the cereal and croissants. Once all the food was packed into several large picnic baskets, Alfred retrieved several carafes of milk, orange and apple juice and once packed, they noted that none of them would fit the dumbwaiter to the Cave, so they both hefted all of them and walked to the grandfather clock that stood guard to the Batcave entrance.
"Man all this stuff is heavier than it looks," Tim remarked. "I think after I drop all this stuff I think I'm gonna need to rest until they all wake up!"
"You could utilize the time to catch up on your unresolved school work, Master Timothy," Alfred retorted. "What of your report on 'Great Expectations'?"
"HOMEWORK!? Come on, Alfred!" Tim exclaimed as Alfred advances the time. "I've been kidnapped four times in just about as many hours! You sound like Paige!"
Once the time read 10:47, The clock pivots on its hidden hinges, revealing the doorway leading to deep into the foundation the mansion.
"Paige? That would be the young lady from California?"
"No, that's Jubes," Tim headed though the passageway. "Paige is from Kentucky."
While they continued their conversation while headed down to the Batcave, they failed to notice a spoon which was slid under the clock, arresting it's closure.
Kordel woke up abruptly noting that he was still in bed and that all the intravenous lines were still attached, though his memories were still fuzzy, he clearly remembered Bruce Wayne removing all the electrical sensor leads from his chest before blacking out.
If I didn't know any better, he thinks to himself. I'd've sworn Wayne just executed several Ayruvedic Prāṇa energy center strikes to knock me out again. Naw, He discounts one of the richest men in the world from acquiring such knowledge. He'd've had to be studying their precise locations for years.
Removing the blanket off his body Kordel, once again, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and began to remove all the IV leads from his arms, twisting all the shut-off clamps, arresting the flow of intravenous fluids into his battered body, then finding the cut-off points, he was able to easily remove all the lines from his person, leaving only the peripheral catheters where the IV lines were introduced to his veins.
Looking around the room he saw the garments Alfred brought to him and began dressing in Bruce's clothes. When Dr. Thompkins comes back I'll have to order her to remove-
Before he could finish the thought, he heard Alfred in the hallway talking to someone who sounded like Tim Drake. Kordel ignored the shooting pain in his legs and silently made it to the door and slowly opened it a few scant inches and saw two figures walking past the Library he is recuperating in. Agent Nichols noticed that the young one had around his neck what looked like an inhibitor collar. But a longer look told him it was in fact a STAR Lab-designed Level-6 power nullifier, much like the ones used at the Raft on Ryker's Island. Level-4 being a strong enough class to negate mutant abilities.
"Man all this stuff is heavier than it looks," the young man huffed as he carried two picnic baskets that appeared to be weighed down. "I think after I drop all this stuff I think I'm gonna need to rest until they all wake up!"
"You could utilize the time to catch up on your unresolved school work, Master Timothy," Alfred responded while advancing the hands on the ornate grandfather clock. "What of your report on 'Great Expectations'?"
Once the time read 10:47, The clock pivots inward, revealing a secret doorway, which both entered. "HOMEWORK!? Come on, Alfred!" the boy exclaimed. "I've been kidnapped four times in just about as many hours! You sound like Paige!"
"Paige? That would be the young lady from California?"
"No, that's Jubes," he replied as he entered the passageway. "Paige is from Kentucky."
Could the Batman be holding the children here at Wayne Manor? The Secret Service Agent asks himself as the clock began to slowly return to its original position. Now, utilizing his SERE training, he ignored the burning pain from his legs that begged him to follow Dr. Thompkins' orders to rest. Knowing he must stop the clock from closing the secret entrance, he quickly grabbed the spoon from her untouched bowl of clam chowder resting on a silver platter, dashed to the clock opening, and slid it under the moving platform, arresting it's closure.
If that's Tim Drake, He ponders. Then he, Leslie, Bruce, and Alfred must be being held in their own home against their will! And if one of this city's vigilantes is on-site, then his cohorts must be here guarding the students! They must've found out the kids are mutants! As half a dozen scenarios race through his pain-medication fogged mind, he knows all of them require one thing;
I need weapons! If I were home in Boston, where would I hide weapons from a 12-year-old? He snaps his fingers with the answer. I wouldn't be able to hide all the weapons, Tim would know there is always knives in the kitchen!
Following the scent of freshly prepared pastries, he found the spacious kitchen. Kordel began opening utensil drawers until he found the one containing dozens of sharp knives. He retrieved several and slid them between the belt and waistband of the slacks he was wearing for swift draw, then he grabbed a large Chef's knife, which he chose as his primary defensive weapon, and bounded for the clock entrance.
Pushing the clock inward, the entrance was fully revealed to be at the top of a long unlit stone staircase that descended into darkness. Wedging the clock in its fully opened position with the spoon, Agent Nichols readied the long blade in his left hand, and headed down the darkness to face the unknown.
Nightwing and Batgirl took another round of arterial blood gas readings on Jubilee, Paige and Jason while they remained unconscious, thanks to the pulse oximeter Leslie brought with her and the long term sleeping gas the Batman employed that put them in that state.
Dr. Thompkins had already checked up on all three slumbering teenagers, and, with the exception of the massive deep scarring she saw on Jason's upper body that reminded her of chronic physical abuse, she declared the three of them in good health, and mostly unharmed by their various kidnapers and legions of henchmen. Again, with the exception of Jason's collection of lumps he had recently taken, though both recent wounds had healed rather rapidly. Wounds that included the abrasions to his hands from the several fights he engaged in with his friends that she bandaged up and the massive bruising on his chest where Rhino shot him, which thankfully did not include the usual ballistic trauma from the gunshot wounds she usually see in her Crime Alley clinic. After she left to keep an eye on Agent Nichols in the Library, the two heroes had made sure their guests were made as comfortable as possible on the thick sparring mat, removing their coats, laying their heads on soft pillows and covering all three with warm blankets. After they checked their blood-gas readings the third time, they noticed the aroma of freshly baked pastries emanating from the Batcave entrance, quickly followed by Tim and Alfred carrying several baskets of what had to be food that were placed on the table of the Cave's small dining area.
"Oh, great!" Nightwing exclaimed. "Man, I'm starving!" He approached the table to retrieve a croissant, but his effort was repelled by the English gentleman with a practiced slap to the mask hero's hand, which, with the giggling of Tim and Batgirl, wounded the young man's pride.
"Please mind your manners, Master Dick. This meal for our guests as well, so you will have to be patient until I have finished preparing it properly. I am quite sure they will be ravenously famished after they awaken from their night long-"
Unexpectedly, a loud BANG sounded from the stairs and a heavy THUD ensued, followed the unmistakable clink of a heavy blade. Batgirl grabbed two batarangs, tossing one to Tim and Nightwing summoned up a wing-ding. All three heroes poised to deal with whoever was coming down the staircase, all three weapons wielded by experts in disarming any weapon from any threat …
…Which happened to Dr. Leslie Thompkins, wielding a severely dented silver serving platter and a worried look on her face.
"Please help me!" She cried dropping the damaged antique. "I had to subdue Agent Nichols before he made it all the way down here!"
Dropping their weapons, Tim, Nightwing and Alfred hurried up the stairs to the mansion while Batgirl dashed to retrieve Kordel's SHIELD-issue medical kit before joining the rest to the mansion's entryway.
Agent Nichols' unconscious body was prone at the top of the stone steps, a large kitchen knife lay near his left hand, four more adorning his waistline. "I was talking with Bruce in private about what to do about Agent Nichols, when I went to check up on him, I saw him sneaking into the clock entrance!"
"And so you bonked him with a silver platter, Leslie?"
"I didn't have any sedative syringes ready, Barbra," the doctor explains, taking the SHIELD medical kit from Batgirl then examined her patient, again. "I don't see any signs of concussion," she reports after examining his eyes and the lump she placed in the back of his head. "Please take Kordel back in the Library, after you disarm him of course."
"If I may be so bold, Leslie," Alfred informs the good doctor as Tim and Nightwing lift the Secret Service Agent and heft him out of the stone staircase. "may I suggest that you do not utilize antique sterling silver tableware in another attempt to subdue any, shall we say, nocturnal vanquishers of criminal reprobates."
"Afraid I'll use the same technique on Bruce, Alfred?"
"No, or rather yes," he replies picking up the dented platter. "though I am certain Master Bruce has taken such precautions against affronts to his person, I am afraid that if such methods are to be intended, it will do more harm to the Tiffany tableware, my dear."
End of Part twenty-one
©David D. Amaya 2015