CHAPTER FIVE
Alfred heard the sporadic tapping of the keyboard from the top of the steps as he descended into the cave carrying with him a tray of tea and pound cake.
"Shit!" Dick slammed his fist down on the console.
"Master, Dick! Watch your language, young man!"
Dick startled at the exasperated voice and turned to see Alfred staring at him with a look of reproach. "Sorry, Alfred. I didn't hear you come down."
"Obviously." Alfred set the tray down on the table next to the computer and walked over to his young charge. "Am I to assume, from your rather colorful metaphor, you have not found the outside connection?"
"Bruce filled you in, huh?"
"Indeed he did."
Dick looked around. "Where is he anyway?"
"He will be down momentarily." After leaving the den, and collecting the tea and cake from the kitchen, Alfred noticed Bruce putting his coat on and heading out the back patio doors. There was no question in Alfred's mind that Bruce was going to visit his parents' memorial.
"Well, so far, I haven't found any other connections between the Joker and Tetch other than the time the Joker used Tetch's microchips for the Laff Off," Dick explained. "And as far as an outside connection goes...."
"What was it, exactly, the Joker told Batman?"
"Umm." Dick paused for a moment. "He said....'It's someone who's just dying to catch you on film.'"
Alfred raised his eyebrow and tapped his chin with his index finger. After a few moments, he turned back to Dick. "Correct me if I am wrong, young Sir, but the person you are looking for is someone who ....either....works for the Mad Hatter...or needs him for a specific reason. And, whoever it is...is someone the Joker must obviously know himself and knows he or she has a connection to Batman?
"Yeah." Dick steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. "Film? That's the only thing we have to go on. Who would want to film Batman? And why? The who could be anybody and the why...Well, maybe they're hoping to find out his identity or something. But that still doesn't narrow down the search. What bad guy wouldn't want Batman's identity?"
Bruce's earlier words echoed in Alfred's mind. *He hooked me up to some kind of REM machine.* "Hmmm?"
"What, Alfred?"
"Just thinking, Master Dick."
Alfred turned to the tray and began slicing the cake. Again, Bruce's voice came to him. *Designed to induce specific wave patterns in the sleeper's brain...* Alfred placed a slice on a small saucer and handed it to Dick.
Alfred thought back to the time he and Bruce visited a health resort for one of Batman's cases. *It could see my thoughts, Alfred...Sir, the Joker, Two-Face, and The Penguin have just arrived with large quantities of cash!...So that's it! He's not planning to blackmail me, he's going to auction my tape!* "Good heavens. Doctor Strange."
CHAPTER SIX
Bruce could hear the bickering from the top of the stairs.
"Alfred, that's crazy! Even *I* would have been fooled!"
"Master Dick-"
"You've known Bruce his whole life and I bet, had you not known it was me disguised as Bruce, you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference!"
"Actually, Young Sir, I would have."
"What?! No way! How?!"
"Master Bruce has a small scar above his left eyebrow. He got it when he fell against the corner of the coffee table in the den at the age of three."
Dick's jaw hung open.
"What brought this up?" Bruce asked coming down the last few steps.
Both men turned to look at him. "Alfred thinks the person who broke Tetch out is Doctor Strange," Dick replied.
Bruce turned to Alfred, puzzled. "What makes you think that, Alfred?"
"Shares a similar field with the Mad Hatter. Is obsessed with Batman's true identity. Once had Batman's true identity...On FILM, Sir. Is not well liked by the Joker and broke out of prison two months ago, if I'm not mistaken."
Bruce went pale. He shook his head, looking dumbfounded. "Of course," he muttered to himself. "Why didn't I see it earlier?"
"Perhaps...You had other things on your mind, Master Bruce," Alfred replied, sympathetically.
"That's no excuse," Bruce ground out. "I should have been able to put it all together!"
"Wait a second. We don't have any solid proof that it's Strange," Dick reminded. "Granted, Alfred has a few points, but until we know for sure, we can't put all our eggs in one basket."
"There's one person who can help with that," Bruce said, as he headed to the costume vault.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"I don't care who the hell you are! You can't just come in here demanding to see patients! It's three o'clock in the morning!"
Batman stepped closer to the intern, towering over him. "The Joker knows the identity of the person responsible for breaking Jervis Tetch out of here, the death of one of your guards, and injury of two others. Now..." Batman's eye-slits narrowed and his voice delved to a low rumble. "Take me to him!"
Whatever courage the intern had possessed, quickly vanished and he fumbled for the keys. "It's ah...um...this way."
***
"It's Strange isn't it?" Batman asked from the shadows of the small cell.
"What is? You?" Joker snickered and rolled his eyes. "Of COURSE you're strange." His words tittered off as he leaned on the wall.
Batman glared. "Doctor Hugo Strange," he growled. "It was Strange who broke Tetch out?"
"Maybe." Joker wiggled a little in his straight jacket. "What do I get out of it if I tell you?"
Batman stood silent, contemplating the Joker's question. Then, ever so slightly, his eyes narrowed menacingly and he allowed a grin to form on his lips. "The real question is..." Batman moved closer to the Joker and bent down so he was practically nose to pale nose. "What will I do to you, if you *don't* tell me." Batman allowed his last words to hold a dangerous edge.
Joker grinned slowly and then chuckled, rubbing his nose in against Batman's. "You ARE the dangerous one, aren't you?"
Batman backed away a little, still holding the Joker's gaze. "I'm not the one in the straight jacket," he deadpanned.
"That doesn't make you any less dangerous," Joker whispered. "But, because you're my favorite person, I'll tell you: Yes. It's the lovely doctor."
Batman stood. "You want him, don't you? That's why you're helping me. You, the Penguin and Two-Face. You want revenge?"
"No, silly!" Joker fell over sideways laughing. "I want you!" He laughed all the harder, his cheeks slowly turning a darker shade. "Don't you get it?!" Biting his tongue, he managed to squeak out, "I'm only helping you because you'll put Strange away where he belongs! That way - we can play OUR little run-around, again!"
Batman felt the anger rising within his very soul. The once placid look upon his face fell to a scowl. He bent down in front of the Joker again, and in a tone that could shake the very walls of hell spoke: "One day....the game WILL end, Joker. I will stop you. Whatever the cost." And with that, Batman stood and left.
Joker stuck out his tongue and giggled to himself. "As if!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Computer, run background file on Doctor Hugo Strange," Dick commanded.
"Searching..." The computer responded, flashing various lights on the console and making systematic beeping noises. "Doctor Hugo Strange. Alias: Doctor Victor Absonus. Occupation: Psychiatrist/Professional Criminal. Area of operations: Gotham City, New Jersey. Current status: Escaped. Yet to be apprehended."
Dick steepled his fingers. "Computer...run background file on Jervis Tetch."
"Searching......"
"Master Dick? Would you care for a cup of tea, Young Sir?" Alfred asked as he poured a cup.
"Thank you, Alfred."
The older man handed Dick the cup and saucer, then poured another cup for himself. "Any luck, Sir?" Alfred sat down next to his young charge and sipped his tea.
Dick mumbled something unintelligible as the computer displayed a picture of Tetch.
"Jervis Tetch. Alias: The Mad Hatter. Occupation: Scientist/Professional Criminal. Area of operations: Gotham City, New Jersey. Current status: Unknown."
"Unknown? Hm. I see Bruce hasn't been able to update Tetch's file yet."
"He has been rather...preoccupied, Master Dick."
"Yeah. I noticed." Dick hit one of the function keys bringing Doctor Strange's image back to the screen. "Something about this case is eating him, Alfred." Dick deliberately worded the phrase so it could be taken as a comment or a question.
"Master Dick, Master Bruce is entitled to his privacy."
"Does that mean you know what it is?"
Alfred merely raised a scrutinizing eyebrow at Dick and took another sip of his tea.
"In that case, when you ~don't~ talk to him about whatever it ~isn't~ about..." Dick looked over at Alfred. "Just let him know I'm here for him, too."
Alfred allowed one corner of his mouth to quirk up to a half smile. "I'll be sure ~not~ to let him know, Sir."
Dick turned back to the computer and scanned through the rest of Strange's file, then switched the screen back to Tetch. Halfway down the screen he stopped. "What the...?"
"What is it?" Alfred asked, setting his tea cup down.
Dick quickly highlighted a section of Tetch's background file then switched the screen over to Doctor Strange's file. He scanned down the page then stopped, highlighting the section. "Look." Dick pointed to the screen.
Alfred sat forward and read aloud: "Professor of Psychiatry at MIT, nineteen-seventy-six to nineteen-eighty-four."
"Now look." Dick pressed a key on the console and Tetch's highlighted section came up.
"Studied at MIT, nineteen-seventy-three to nineteen-eighty. Studies included: psychiatry under Professor Victor Ab--Oh, my word!"
"There's our connection."
CHAPTER NINE
"You are absolutely certain this is working?" A heavily accented voice said from behind a disheveled blond head.
"Oh, tut, tut!" The blond scolded. "Of course it's working!"
"It had better be!" Thick sunglasses were pushed further up the man's nose by his heavy finger.
"Keep your temper. Everything is going according to your plan." The blond adjusted a few dials attached to a console set on the table in front of him, then, he resettled a red metal brim he wore around his head. "However...curiouser and curiouser it is to me, as to why it is I had to pick he?" The blond pointed to an image in a newspaper clipping.
"All in good time, my friend. By tomorrow night you shall have your revenge." The stubby man turned away from the blond and clapped his hands together. "And I shall have mine......Batman."
***
"He doesn't care about getting revenge?! The Joker?!" Dick asked in disbelief.
"So he says," Bruce responded, settling himself down in his chair by the main computer.
"That doesn't make any sense. Even for the Joker. Strange cost him millions. Granted they weren't HIS millions, but still--"
"I think Joker is playing a bigger part than he's letting on. He gave in too easily." Bruce swiveled around in the chair and brought up records from Arkham Asylum.
"What are you doing?"
"Seeing if Joker's had any visitors in the last two months. A Victor Absonus, perhaps."
"Heh. That would be interesting." Dick stifled a yawn.
"You should get some rest," Bruce said, not even looking at his ward.
"I'm fine."
"It's half-past four in the morning, Dick." Bruce looked up. "Go on. I'll fill you in on anything I find later."
"What about you? You've got to be tired?"
"No. Go to bed, Dick." Bruce tried to give the younger man a smile, but it came off more as a frown.
"You sure?"
Bruce nodded.
"Kay. Night."
Once Dick was gone, Bruce turned back to the computer. He typed in a few codes and, within seconds, the visitor's record sheet was displayed on the screen.
***
Soft carousel music played in the background.
It was a bright sunny day. The sound of the ocean waves could be heard crashing against the rocks far below the stately Wayne Manor. On the back terrace, a happy family of three, mother, father, and son, sat eating breakfast.
After a few minutes, the father and son stood, and the child suddenly let out a cry of delight as the father began chasing him.
"I'm gonna get you!" The father boomed playfully.
The little boy stuck his tongue out at his father, giggled, and ran closer to the house.
An older man, dressed in a black uniform and bowtie, stepped through the tall French doors. He had thinning black hair and a mustache. With him, he carried a silver tray that held a pitcher of lemonade and some glasses of ice. His eyes suddenly went wide upon seeing the boy running toward him, the father in hot pursuit.
With a giggle and shriek, the boy dodged behind the uniform clad man. "Save me, Alfred!" The little boy grabbed ahold of the dress coat tails of Alfred's uniform.
"Good heavens, Master Bruce!"
"Oh, no, don't think Alfred's gonna save you!" The father held a big smile on his face and began wiggling his fingers. He bent down to Bruce's height and reached behind Alfred's legs, trying to tickle the boy.
Bruce shrieked some more.
"Master Thomas!" Alfred scolded, holding the tray up higher so his employer wouldn't knock it out of his hands.
Suddenly, Bruce let go of Alfred and ran into the house, laughing. Thomas stood and looked at his friend. "Sorry, Alfred, old man, but I have business to tend to!" He put on a mischievous grin, wiggled his fingers and slipped past the man.
Alfred turned, watching as father and son ran through the kitchen and out of sight. He couldn't help but smile.
"Hey, no fair hiding!" Thomas whined as he looked around the study.
Bruce giggled and jumped out from behind a statue, tackling his father. The two of them rolled around on the floor tickling each other.
The sun light in the room dimmed, as did Thomas' laughter. Bruce looked up at his father. The smile Bruce had been wearing faded and he turned pale.
The man above him was no longer his father, but a ghostly shadow with glowing red eyes.
Bruce's physique altered from child to adult.
Thunder roared overhead.
"Gonnaaaaa get youuuuu," the shadow whispered in a slow and ominous bass voice.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce saw Alfred walk passed the study doors. "Alfred........Alfred! ALFRED!"
***
"Yes, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, as he descended the stairs into the cave carrying a tray of coffee and toast. He couldn't see Bruce's face, only the back of the black leather desk chair.
"Alfred," Bruce slurred.
Alfred furrowed his brows and set the tray down before walking over to the chair. "Master Bruce, what is-" Alfred stopped, noticing Bruce was sound asleep.
Bruce suddenly jumped and flung himself forward, snapping his eyes open. "Alfred!"
Quickly, Alfred grabbed Bruce's shoulders, stopping the younger man from going face first into the computer.
Bruce gripped Alfred's forearms and stared at him, panicked. 'Alfred! He's gonna! He's...D-don't let him!" Bruce shook his head fiercely. "Don't let him get me! Please, Alfred! Don't!...don't..."
Alfred was startled, to say the least, at the sudden outburst. "Bruce, it's alright! I'm here! I won't let him get you!" He pulled the frightened man into his arms and held him. "It was just a bad dream. It's alright now," he soothed, rubbing Bruce's back.
Bruce held on tightly to the older man, shaking, as sweat poured from his forehead.
After a few moments and some deep breaths, Bruce relaxed and pulled back. "I'm fine. I'm alright, now." He leaned into the chair, closing his eyes.
Alfred knelt down beside him and rested his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Bruce, are you su-"
"I'm fine."
"Do you want t-"
"No."
Alfred sighed. "Bruce..." He reached up and gently pushed the sweat drenched bangs away from Bruce's eyes.
Bruce opened his eyes and looked down at his shaken friend. "It's okay, Alfred. I'm alright. Sorry I scared you."
"I'm not so sure it was I who was scared, Bruce."
Bruce looked at Alfred. "Your eyes betray you, old friend."
Alfred raised an eyebrow. "As do yours."
"Touché."
Alfred half smiled. "What happened, Bruce?"
There was no use trying to avoid the question. Alfred would get it out of him one way or another. He always had. But this was a little different. The last time Bruce remembered having a nightmare like this, he was much younger. Alfred would gather him up in his strong, protective arms, place him on his lap and hold him close while Bruce told him everything. It was so easy to tell Alfred his deepest, darkest troubles and secrets when he felt safe and loved.
As if he had spoken his thoughts aloud, and Alfred had heard him, Bruce felt himself being pulled into another hug. A warm, caring hand began to gently caress the back of his neck, and Bruce sighed, closing his eyes and resting his head on his friends shoulder.
"Now, my boy," Alfred whispered, "can you tell me what happened?"
"My father and I were playing in the backyard. He chased me into the house and turned into...something." Bruce shook his head, trying to remember the details. "Red eyes. It had red eyes. It attacked me. You walked by and I called to you for help. It...told me it was going to get me."
"It? You said 'he' earlier."
Bruce shook his head. "I don't know, Alfred. But I have this terrible feeling I know what it...or he is. It's not the same as it used to be. This is worse."
To be continued...
Alfred heard the sporadic tapping of the keyboard from the top of the steps as he descended into the cave carrying with him a tray of tea and pound cake.
"Shit!" Dick slammed his fist down on the console.
"Master, Dick! Watch your language, young man!"
Dick startled at the exasperated voice and turned to see Alfred staring at him with a look of reproach. "Sorry, Alfred. I didn't hear you come down."
"Obviously." Alfred set the tray down on the table next to the computer and walked over to his young charge. "Am I to assume, from your rather colorful metaphor, you have not found the outside connection?"
"Bruce filled you in, huh?"
"Indeed he did."
Dick looked around. "Where is he anyway?"
"He will be down momentarily." After leaving the den, and collecting the tea and cake from the kitchen, Alfred noticed Bruce putting his coat on and heading out the back patio doors. There was no question in Alfred's mind that Bruce was going to visit his parents' memorial.
"Well, so far, I haven't found any other connections between the Joker and Tetch other than the time the Joker used Tetch's microchips for the Laff Off," Dick explained. "And as far as an outside connection goes...."
"What was it, exactly, the Joker told Batman?"
"Umm." Dick paused for a moment. "He said....'It's someone who's just dying to catch you on film.'"
Alfred raised his eyebrow and tapped his chin with his index finger. After a few moments, he turned back to Dick. "Correct me if I am wrong, young Sir, but the person you are looking for is someone who ....either....works for the Mad Hatter...or needs him for a specific reason. And, whoever it is...is someone the Joker must obviously know himself and knows he or she has a connection to Batman?
"Yeah." Dick steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. "Film? That's the only thing we have to go on. Who would want to film Batman? And why? The who could be anybody and the why...Well, maybe they're hoping to find out his identity or something. But that still doesn't narrow down the search. What bad guy wouldn't want Batman's identity?"
Bruce's earlier words echoed in Alfred's mind. *He hooked me up to some kind of REM machine.* "Hmmm?"
"What, Alfred?"
"Just thinking, Master Dick."
Alfred turned to the tray and began slicing the cake. Again, Bruce's voice came to him. *Designed to induce specific wave patterns in the sleeper's brain...* Alfred placed a slice on a small saucer and handed it to Dick.
Alfred thought back to the time he and Bruce visited a health resort for one of Batman's cases. *It could see my thoughts, Alfred...Sir, the Joker, Two-Face, and The Penguin have just arrived with large quantities of cash!...So that's it! He's not planning to blackmail me, he's going to auction my tape!* "Good heavens. Doctor Strange."
CHAPTER SIX
Bruce could hear the bickering from the top of the stairs.
"Alfred, that's crazy! Even *I* would have been fooled!"
"Master Dick-"
"You've known Bruce his whole life and I bet, had you not known it was me disguised as Bruce, you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference!"
"Actually, Young Sir, I would have."
"What?! No way! How?!"
"Master Bruce has a small scar above his left eyebrow. He got it when he fell against the corner of the coffee table in the den at the age of three."
Dick's jaw hung open.
"What brought this up?" Bruce asked coming down the last few steps.
Both men turned to look at him. "Alfred thinks the person who broke Tetch out is Doctor Strange," Dick replied.
Bruce turned to Alfred, puzzled. "What makes you think that, Alfred?"
"Shares a similar field with the Mad Hatter. Is obsessed with Batman's true identity. Once had Batman's true identity...On FILM, Sir. Is not well liked by the Joker and broke out of prison two months ago, if I'm not mistaken."
Bruce went pale. He shook his head, looking dumbfounded. "Of course," he muttered to himself. "Why didn't I see it earlier?"
"Perhaps...You had other things on your mind, Master Bruce," Alfred replied, sympathetically.
"That's no excuse," Bruce ground out. "I should have been able to put it all together!"
"Wait a second. We don't have any solid proof that it's Strange," Dick reminded. "Granted, Alfred has a few points, but until we know for sure, we can't put all our eggs in one basket."
"There's one person who can help with that," Bruce said, as he headed to the costume vault.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"I don't care who the hell you are! You can't just come in here demanding to see patients! It's three o'clock in the morning!"
Batman stepped closer to the intern, towering over him. "The Joker knows the identity of the person responsible for breaking Jervis Tetch out of here, the death of one of your guards, and injury of two others. Now..." Batman's eye-slits narrowed and his voice delved to a low rumble. "Take me to him!"
Whatever courage the intern had possessed, quickly vanished and he fumbled for the keys. "It's ah...um...this way."
***
"It's Strange isn't it?" Batman asked from the shadows of the small cell.
"What is? You?" Joker snickered and rolled his eyes. "Of COURSE you're strange." His words tittered off as he leaned on the wall.
Batman glared. "Doctor Hugo Strange," he growled. "It was Strange who broke Tetch out?"
"Maybe." Joker wiggled a little in his straight jacket. "What do I get out of it if I tell you?"
Batman stood silent, contemplating the Joker's question. Then, ever so slightly, his eyes narrowed menacingly and he allowed a grin to form on his lips. "The real question is..." Batman moved closer to the Joker and bent down so he was practically nose to pale nose. "What will I do to you, if you *don't* tell me." Batman allowed his last words to hold a dangerous edge.
Joker grinned slowly and then chuckled, rubbing his nose in against Batman's. "You ARE the dangerous one, aren't you?"
Batman backed away a little, still holding the Joker's gaze. "I'm not the one in the straight jacket," he deadpanned.
"That doesn't make you any less dangerous," Joker whispered. "But, because you're my favorite person, I'll tell you: Yes. It's the lovely doctor."
Batman stood. "You want him, don't you? That's why you're helping me. You, the Penguin and Two-Face. You want revenge?"
"No, silly!" Joker fell over sideways laughing. "I want you!" He laughed all the harder, his cheeks slowly turning a darker shade. "Don't you get it?!" Biting his tongue, he managed to squeak out, "I'm only helping you because you'll put Strange away where he belongs! That way - we can play OUR little run-around, again!"
Batman felt the anger rising within his very soul. The once placid look upon his face fell to a scowl. He bent down in front of the Joker again, and in a tone that could shake the very walls of hell spoke: "One day....the game WILL end, Joker. I will stop you. Whatever the cost." And with that, Batman stood and left.
Joker stuck out his tongue and giggled to himself. "As if!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Computer, run background file on Doctor Hugo Strange," Dick commanded.
"Searching..." The computer responded, flashing various lights on the console and making systematic beeping noises. "Doctor Hugo Strange. Alias: Doctor Victor Absonus. Occupation: Psychiatrist/Professional Criminal. Area of operations: Gotham City, New Jersey. Current status: Escaped. Yet to be apprehended."
Dick steepled his fingers. "Computer...run background file on Jervis Tetch."
"Searching......"
"Master Dick? Would you care for a cup of tea, Young Sir?" Alfred asked as he poured a cup.
"Thank you, Alfred."
The older man handed Dick the cup and saucer, then poured another cup for himself. "Any luck, Sir?" Alfred sat down next to his young charge and sipped his tea.
Dick mumbled something unintelligible as the computer displayed a picture of Tetch.
"Jervis Tetch. Alias: The Mad Hatter. Occupation: Scientist/Professional Criminal. Area of operations: Gotham City, New Jersey. Current status: Unknown."
"Unknown? Hm. I see Bruce hasn't been able to update Tetch's file yet."
"He has been rather...preoccupied, Master Dick."
"Yeah. I noticed." Dick hit one of the function keys bringing Doctor Strange's image back to the screen. "Something about this case is eating him, Alfred." Dick deliberately worded the phrase so it could be taken as a comment or a question.
"Master Dick, Master Bruce is entitled to his privacy."
"Does that mean you know what it is?"
Alfred merely raised a scrutinizing eyebrow at Dick and took another sip of his tea.
"In that case, when you ~don't~ talk to him about whatever it ~isn't~ about..." Dick looked over at Alfred. "Just let him know I'm here for him, too."
Alfred allowed one corner of his mouth to quirk up to a half smile. "I'll be sure ~not~ to let him know, Sir."
Dick turned back to the computer and scanned through the rest of Strange's file, then switched the screen back to Tetch. Halfway down the screen he stopped. "What the...?"
"What is it?" Alfred asked, setting his tea cup down.
Dick quickly highlighted a section of Tetch's background file then switched the screen over to Doctor Strange's file. He scanned down the page then stopped, highlighting the section. "Look." Dick pointed to the screen.
Alfred sat forward and read aloud: "Professor of Psychiatry at MIT, nineteen-seventy-six to nineteen-eighty-four."
"Now look." Dick pressed a key on the console and Tetch's highlighted section came up.
"Studied at MIT, nineteen-seventy-three to nineteen-eighty. Studies included: psychiatry under Professor Victor Ab--Oh, my word!"
"There's our connection."
CHAPTER NINE
"You are absolutely certain this is working?" A heavily accented voice said from behind a disheveled blond head.
"Oh, tut, tut!" The blond scolded. "Of course it's working!"
"It had better be!" Thick sunglasses were pushed further up the man's nose by his heavy finger.
"Keep your temper. Everything is going according to your plan." The blond adjusted a few dials attached to a console set on the table in front of him, then, he resettled a red metal brim he wore around his head. "However...curiouser and curiouser it is to me, as to why it is I had to pick he?" The blond pointed to an image in a newspaper clipping.
"All in good time, my friend. By tomorrow night you shall have your revenge." The stubby man turned away from the blond and clapped his hands together. "And I shall have mine......Batman."
***
"He doesn't care about getting revenge?! The Joker?!" Dick asked in disbelief.
"So he says," Bruce responded, settling himself down in his chair by the main computer.
"That doesn't make any sense. Even for the Joker. Strange cost him millions. Granted they weren't HIS millions, but still--"
"I think Joker is playing a bigger part than he's letting on. He gave in too easily." Bruce swiveled around in the chair and brought up records from Arkham Asylum.
"What are you doing?"
"Seeing if Joker's had any visitors in the last two months. A Victor Absonus, perhaps."
"Heh. That would be interesting." Dick stifled a yawn.
"You should get some rest," Bruce said, not even looking at his ward.
"I'm fine."
"It's half-past four in the morning, Dick." Bruce looked up. "Go on. I'll fill you in on anything I find later."
"What about you? You've got to be tired?"
"No. Go to bed, Dick." Bruce tried to give the younger man a smile, but it came off more as a frown.
"You sure?"
Bruce nodded.
"Kay. Night."
Once Dick was gone, Bruce turned back to the computer. He typed in a few codes and, within seconds, the visitor's record sheet was displayed on the screen.
***
Soft carousel music played in the background.
It was a bright sunny day. The sound of the ocean waves could be heard crashing against the rocks far below the stately Wayne Manor. On the back terrace, a happy family of three, mother, father, and son, sat eating breakfast.
After a few minutes, the father and son stood, and the child suddenly let out a cry of delight as the father began chasing him.
"I'm gonna get you!" The father boomed playfully.
The little boy stuck his tongue out at his father, giggled, and ran closer to the house.
An older man, dressed in a black uniform and bowtie, stepped through the tall French doors. He had thinning black hair and a mustache. With him, he carried a silver tray that held a pitcher of lemonade and some glasses of ice. His eyes suddenly went wide upon seeing the boy running toward him, the father in hot pursuit.
With a giggle and shriek, the boy dodged behind the uniform clad man. "Save me, Alfred!" The little boy grabbed ahold of the dress coat tails of Alfred's uniform.
"Good heavens, Master Bruce!"
"Oh, no, don't think Alfred's gonna save you!" The father held a big smile on his face and began wiggling his fingers. He bent down to Bruce's height and reached behind Alfred's legs, trying to tickle the boy.
Bruce shrieked some more.
"Master Thomas!" Alfred scolded, holding the tray up higher so his employer wouldn't knock it out of his hands.
Suddenly, Bruce let go of Alfred and ran into the house, laughing. Thomas stood and looked at his friend. "Sorry, Alfred, old man, but I have business to tend to!" He put on a mischievous grin, wiggled his fingers and slipped past the man.
Alfred turned, watching as father and son ran through the kitchen and out of sight. He couldn't help but smile.
"Hey, no fair hiding!" Thomas whined as he looked around the study.
Bruce giggled and jumped out from behind a statue, tackling his father. The two of them rolled around on the floor tickling each other.
The sun light in the room dimmed, as did Thomas' laughter. Bruce looked up at his father. The smile Bruce had been wearing faded and he turned pale.
The man above him was no longer his father, but a ghostly shadow with glowing red eyes.
Bruce's physique altered from child to adult.
Thunder roared overhead.
"Gonnaaaaa get youuuuu," the shadow whispered in a slow and ominous bass voice.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce saw Alfred walk passed the study doors. "Alfred........Alfred! ALFRED!"
***
"Yes, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, as he descended the stairs into the cave carrying a tray of coffee and toast. He couldn't see Bruce's face, only the back of the black leather desk chair.
"Alfred," Bruce slurred.
Alfred furrowed his brows and set the tray down before walking over to the chair. "Master Bruce, what is-" Alfred stopped, noticing Bruce was sound asleep.
Bruce suddenly jumped and flung himself forward, snapping his eyes open. "Alfred!"
Quickly, Alfred grabbed Bruce's shoulders, stopping the younger man from going face first into the computer.
Bruce gripped Alfred's forearms and stared at him, panicked. 'Alfred! He's gonna! He's...D-don't let him!" Bruce shook his head fiercely. "Don't let him get me! Please, Alfred! Don't!...don't..."
Alfred was startled, to say the least, at the sudden outburst. "Bruce, it's alright! I'm here! I won't let him get you!" He pulled the frightened man into his arms and held him. "It was just a bad dream. It's alright now," he soothed, rubbing Bruce's back.
Bruce held on tightly to the older man, shaking, as sweat poured from his forehead.
After a few moments and some deep breaths, Bruce relaxed and pulled back. "I'm fine. I'm alright, now." He leaned into the chair, closing his eyes.
Alfred knelt down beside him and rested his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Bruce, are you su-"
"I'm fine."
"Do you want t-"
"No."
Alfred sighed. "Bruce..." He reached up and gently pushed the sweat drenched bangs away from Bruce's eyes.
Bruce opened his eyes and looked down at his shaken friend. "It's okay, Alfred. I'm alright. Sorry I scared you."
"I'm not so sure it was I who was scared, Bruce."
Bruce looked at Alfred. "Your eyes betray you, old friend."
Alfred raised an eyebrow. "As do yours."
"Touché."
Alfred half smiled. "What happened, Bruce?"
There was no use trying to avoid the question. Alfred would get it out of him one way or another. He always had. But this was a little different. The last time Bruce remembered having a nightmare like this, he was much younger. Alfred would gather him up in his strong, protective arms, place him on his lap and hold him close while Bruce told him everything. It was so easy to tell Alfred his deepest, darkest troubles and secrets when he felt safe and loved.
As if he had spoken his thoughts aloud, and Alfred had heard him, Bruce felt himself being pulled into another hug. A warm, caring hand began to gently caress the back of his neck, and Bruce sighed, closing his eyes and resting his head on his friends shoulder.
"Now, my boy," Alfred whispered, "can you tell me what happened?"
"My father and I were playing in the backyard. He chased me into the house and turned into...something." Bruce shook his head, trying to remember the details. "Red eyes. It had red eyes. It attacked me. You walked by and I called to you for help. It...told me it was going to get me."
"It? You said 'he' earlier."
Bruce shook his head. "I don't know, Alfred. But I have this terrible feeling I know what it...or he is. It's not the same as it used to be. This is worse."
To be continued...