Title: Life Is Good
Author: DC Luder
Summary: The second addition in the Series of Three storyline. Set three months after his recovery, the Dark Knight is back with a vengeance.
Rating: T
Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.
Author's Note: This chapter has been modified from its original version.
^V^
Barbara had been partially right, finding Lyle had taken longer than it should have.
His parole officer had long since been bribed to report in that Lyle Sutherland was obeying the rules and working hard at reforming himself. Rather than actually waste time going through the motions of starting life anew, Lyle had been quick to revert to his surefire method of income: gambling. Dick had once told me that the thug turned snitch was a live version of the fictional character Ace Rothstein, never picking the wrong team or fighter or horse in a match for decades. Working mainly in the East End and the Bowery, Lyle had managed to stay off of the radar for the last fourteen months since his release from Blackgate.
After all, there was no OTB access from a jail cell.
Upon learning of Harvey's escape, Lyle had immediately come to mind. He had worked along side a number of the rogues, namely with Scarface and Two-Face. He would have never lasted a day under the Joker's command, especially since his tongue was as sharp as his mind. Although not a hired muscle by any means, his intellect and mastery of probability came in handy planning getaways and success rates of high end crimes. According to the file on the crays, the last time Dick had questioned him was shortly after Pasqualle had fallen, wanting information on Maxie Zeus.
His mailing address on file with the parole department was a one bedroom apartment in Chelsea. I arrived a little after eight-thirty in the evening to find it was empty, stinking of dirty laundry and stale sex. He had always been a fan of the ladies, regaling them with wads of money and stories of his life on the B-list of criminals. After a quick search, I found his rent was one month behind and that he was employed at a pool hall in the Bowery. At five hundred dollars a week, Lyle must have been desperate to start bringing in money on the side.
Perhaps he had lost his gift of premonition…
Navigating over to speak with him, my mind was hyperactive with thoughts of Two-Face and what his possible plans could entail. Touring the streets in the Mobile, catching minor details on the streets, monitoring the scanners had been innate, requiring absolutely no effort. Somewhere deep down, there was a tiny notion that registered that I was finally back. Granted, I had regained my memories at the beginning of summer and spent the following months training rigorously, but being back on the streets, behind the mask… that was where I had been waiting.
There was one other thought circling my mind…
Before it grew out of control, and before it became a distraction I couldn't afford, I called Selina. She seemed happy to hear from me, appeasing my worries about how Mattie had gone down for the night and even offering a light hearted comment to send away the growl in my voice. There was no exchange of I love you, there wasn't a plea to come home or to be careful.
Just her voice teasing me in my ear as if I was right beside her.
I had expected that my first night back was going to be difficult, leaving them behind.
I felt guilty that it was so easy.
Thirty minutes later, I found Lyle in the alleyway behind his place of employment, his gait unsteady after treating himself to free drinks at the bar. I watched from a fire escape as Lyle stood facing a dumpster and urinated on wobbly legs. Once he had attended to himself, I dropped down behind him, waiting seeing how I had no desire to see a grown man mess himself.
"Jesus!" he squealed when I grabbed his collar and pinned him up against the brick exterior of the building. He wore his usual tasteless attire: stained khakis and a navy blazer over a pastel yellow shirt. His idea of a fashion statement, although I was unable to judge since it was at least a decade more advanced from what Matches Malone donned.
When his toes were satisfactorily dangling above the pavement, I positioned my face inches from his, "What do you know about Two-Face?"
"Uh," he stuttered, "You know, that he has a coin collection."
Not in the mood, I slammed him up against the wall harder and lifted his one hundred and sixty pound frame higher off the ground. Panic caused his face to flush and his eyes to bolt as he stammered, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."
"I'm not asking you again," I snapped as I let him drop to the damp pavement. He fell on his rear and scrambled to his feet, looking towards the opening of the alley as if he were going to run away. He knew better. He knew I would find him.
Eyes still darting from the exit to my face, he started, "Well, I haven't heard anything about him per say, 'cept that a few guys were in here earlier this week, talking about a big deal going down in the Village. Some sort of new gig they're working. Lots of money, guys came in here and got so schnookered that they were kicked out."
With me glaring down at him, he proceeded, "So, I asked 'em you know what it was, if I could get work. They laughed for a while and slapped me on the back before saying how only the boss took big men, good enough to fight off the Bat."
My eyes narrowed, daring him to lie to me.
He gulped and drew a deep breath, "And then Art, our bouncer, kicked them out… I swear, that's all they said."
I looked to where I had dumped him and nodded towards his wallet, "Dropped something."
He stepped over and picked it up, leaving him to stumble back in on his own. I made my way to the Batmobile two blocks away and checked the list of addresses for Harvey's possible hideouts. Sure enough, a warehouse in Village was one of mine to look in on. It took another thirty minutes to maneuver the back alleyways through Little Stockton and then over the bridge to Village. Barbara quickly picked up on my travels and opened a visual on the center consol, "Any luck?"
"We'll see," I offered. She updated me on the progress of the others, none of whom had been able to turn up any viable answers or locations. My gut told me the warehouse was it, but I hadn't had to use that part of my gut in a long time.
I parked three blocks from the building and then proceeded to move out on foot. There were two SUV's, one black and one white, parked towards the rear of the twelve hundred foot square facility. After taking refuge on an adjacent rooftop, I took out my binoculars and peered into the dingy windows. Thanks to an internal light source, I spotted four at a table eating and three more stood in the center of the building. Six others were posted in pairs at each of the entrances and I assumed at least three more were at vantages points unseen to me, based on their strategy of placement.
Save for those baring takeout utensils, all were armed with an arsenal of weapons. Uzis, semi-automatic rifles, sub-machine guns in addition to any concealed handguns and knives. Lots of man power and lots of fire power meant lots of money, just as Lyle had overheard. With nothing on the radar for an operation so large, it was safe to say there was a good chance Two Face was involved.
I shot a line over to the warehouse, treading quickly to crouch above an air vent that was partially destroyed. Glancing down to the open floor space, I realized I had been wrong. There were four more men that I had not able to see originally, the last being Two Face himself.
"Oracle."
"How's that luck working for you?" she replied.
"It's Dualex Glass Warehouse. I am on target."
"All right, I'll send the troops. Got a head count?"
"Fifteen armed men in addition to Two-Face himself." I was startled when I heard the engines of the SUVs start behind me. As I stood upright, the vehicles entered the warehouse, stopping only long enough for two men to climb into each, with Harvey standing in between them.
"Damnit, they are leaving..."
"Wait, Nightwing will be there in a few minutes-."
Seeing how one of the lookouts had finally spotted my silhouette, I didn't have a few minutes. He called out the alert before aiming his Heckler and Koch MP5 skyward, quickly joined by those still standing around the vehicles. I dodged out of the way, the bullets piercing through the broken vent and shooting into the night sky. Ignoring Barbara as she screamed at me over the comm. link, I listened intently through the cacophony for the voices down below.
Nothing useful except for a general consensus that they wanted me bullet-riddled and dead.
"Send out a BOLO out, two recent model Toyota FJ Cruisers, one black, one white!" I barked at her between spurts of gun fire.
"What's going on?"
When there was a brief pause in the ricochet of bullets, I exhaled, "I'm going in."
^V^
"Two heads are better than one."
"Bad Two-Face joke," I replied as we made out way out of the Clocktower.
"No," he followed me out onto the ledge, "I meant we should work together."
I looked to Robin, contemplating his proposal to check out possible hideouts together. Yes, two sets of eyes were more useful than one, but I tended to move more quickly than he did, at least on foot and was less distracted by casual conversation. With Dick retaking his Nightwing guise full time, I had noticed a sudden increase in their neglected antics. Even still, I found myself offering him a curt nod.
Combined, our locations were predominantly active businesses with a penchant for supporting criminal activity. If patrols were ever slow, they were a sure fire place to find something to do. We moved swiftly on foot, although it wasn't a game of tag or racing that he usually pursued with Nightwing. I simply upped the ante and degree of difficulty, jumping from one rooftop to another, any time he came remotely close to catching up.
Reaching our first location, a less than savory pool hall regrettably located at 222 22nd Street, he was out of breath. I asked if he still wanted to work with me and Robin smirked, "Damn straight."
Two-Face had not been inside and there had not been enough illegal activities to warrant our intervention. From there, we had moved out on foot to the next point, fifteen blocks south on Civic Street. I toned down my rate of speed a fraction, trying to be nice. Robin managed to get his wind back as he once more found his voice, "Hey… do you think it's too soon?"
"For what?" I asked, pausing on the rooftop of a four story bakery.
When he reached me, Robin shrugged, causing his cape to rise and fall, "I mean… this shouldn't be his first night back."
"Had to come back some time," I defended our mentor. Having worked with him over the summer, I knew how quickly he had regained everything, how determined he was to get back to how he once had been. I also knew that there were only so many simulated fights or situations that would be beneficial, that the real thing was needed to snap him back into place.
Now or never.
Their worry for him was blatant, palpable. I had seen it in the Cave, at dinner, even that afternoon, not only in Tim and Dick, but Bruce as well. I felt as if I was the only one that knew he would be fine, making their doubts a cause for concern. We had to trust each other without lives, not wasting a fraction of a second with second guesses.
Hence why I often did better on my own.
Looking at Robin's face, I knew what he was thinking. What he was remembering.
I had been there that night, too.
He looked away from me, "It's one thing to come back to the regular work… but with Two-Face… any one of them could have escaped and had to be Harvey out of all of them…"
"We'll find him. We'll help him."
"If he lets us," he said lowly, his eyes narrowing in on something in the distance.
A tone sounded on both of our comm. links. Where Oracle was always calm when she was giving us directions, pointing out hot spots or giving us heads up on incoming police. Her voice was on the verge of being frantic, "Batman is on target, Dualex Glass warehouse. At least sixteen hostiles, shots have been fired."
Robin looked to me but Nightwing was the first to respond, "I can be there in seven minutes, tell him to wait for back-up."
"You tell him," she responded, "He's already blocked the comm."
"Damn him…" he muttered.
As I looked about the city skyline, setting a course in my mind, Robin said, "Batgirl and I are about five minutes away, we'll be right there."
As always, I said nothing, opting for action as opposed to words. Knowing he would be more than capable of keeping up with me, I took flight, navigating rooftops back to the alley where I had parked my cycle earlier. Instead of the desire to race fueling him, it was adrenaline, the need to reach our mentor's side in time. I landed on the ground first, instantly throwing a leg over the bike while reaching for the ignition. A second later, Robin was doing the same, throwing and arm around my midsection and saying into my ear, "Ready."
As we dodged traffic, taking to the sidewalk at numerous times, Nightwing came over the link again, "How close are you?"
Seeing how I was working on narrowly avoiding a group of drunk people smoking outside of a bar, Robin replied, "Three minutes."
"Make it two," he snapped back.
"You heard the man," Robin said as he held on tighter.
Nightwing then added, "Don't let him get away."
Jumping back to the street to bank a hard right, I wondered to myself if he was talking about Dent or Batman.
The final stretch of street was dark, two of the six streetlights dead or dying. Even still, I turned the lights on the cycle off and gunned it the last seventy-five yards, coming to an abrupt stop to the right of the building. The lights were off inside, but flashes of white could be seen as gunfire rattled within. As we jumped out and raced towards the nearest entrance, two SUV's crashed through the adjacent garage door.
I turned to take after them, but Robin grabbed my arm, "He's inside!"
Batman was inside, along with eleven men. All armed. All shooting.
With their attention diverted to a single point, we stormed in, pulling on breathing masks once we spotted the blue haze of tear gas. Batman was holding his own, working through the group and disarming them savagely. Although they were technically allies, the other men seemed to have no problem shooing at their target, even if one of their own was in the way. Robin proceeded to take down those taking deliberate shots with bolos while I opted for a more hands-on approach.
I found my first target and dodged swiftly as he fired the remnants of his semi-automatic bullets at me. When he ran out, he tried to club me with the gun, but promptly regretted it when I kicked his forearm hard enough to crack both the radius and ulna. Fueled with pain, he roared before lunging at me, earning a foot strike to his solar plexus that forced him to double over. The five and a half second encounter ended when I rendered him unconscious with a blow to the temple.
In the following thirty seconds, I disarmed and disabled three more men, the last was used as a projectile in order to strike his ally as he assaulted Robin. Helping him back to his feet, we both looked to find our mentor still surrounded, but not even remotely in danger. He could have easily taken out twice as many opponents in half of the time, but he was making it count, making them suffer.
"Shall we?" Robin asked before taking flight.
We joined in the fray, a momentary distraction for both Batman and his foes. While blocking hits and delivering blows, I heard a van start. I looked to see two men getting into a delivery van, quickly revving it to life before making a run for it. With our taking care of the hostiles, Batman had seen it as an opportunity, one he hadn't bothered wasting time explaining save for a heavy growl over the link, "Stay here."
Robin exclaimed before taking out the last man standing, "What the hell are you doing?"
The van was long gone, so naturally Batman did not respond. I thought the answer was fairly obvious and replied, "He's going after Dent."
There was a brief moment where Robin glared at me, although his sweat dampened bangs and red cheeks deterred significantly from the scowl. He then shook his head, "Let's get them tied up, GCPD can't be too far away."
The roar of a cycle accompanied Nightwing as he arrived, not two minutes after Batman had already departed. He didn't even bother to get off of his bike, let alone killing the ignition. We told him that Batman had made contact with us, offering a short bark on the link for us to stay put.
"Stay here," he echoed our mentor before taking off, following Batman's homing beacon on the cycle's computer.
As we made it back to my bike, the wail of sirens were starting to approach but there was no sign of flashing lights. I went to sit first, but he beat me to it, simultaneously bringing the engine to life while checking the computer console.
I hopped on behind Robin as he said, "They're heading for the highway."
Good companionship, a good fight and a good chase.
All in one night made it hard to beat.
^V^
My first thought hearing from Babs that Bruce was in a firefight was of the night he had been shot by Pasqualle.
My second thought was that if he wasn't killed by Two-Face and is legion of thugs, that I would kill him myself.
The ride into the city had been the most painfully awkward one I had ever endured. Bruce had been behind the wheel, as he had been the previous nights he had joined, but instead of letting the heavy silence settle between us, I had opened my mouth. He had made no sign that he had been listening as I said, "Listen… if it's too much, if something big is going down, we can handle it. You don't have to push it the first night back."
I tried again when we crossed the Westward bridge, but I barely got a word out before he had growled, "That's enough."
Looking at him, I had been quick to recognize the set jaw, the tension in his shoulders and arms as he gripped the steering wheel and the focused look in his lens covered eyes.
The Bat was back, I had thought to myself.
He had then proceeded to explain that we would all go into Tri-Corner, although only he would go to police headquarters to speak with the commissioner. There had been no point in trying to talk to him at that point, his mind had been made up and it was scientific fact that it would not change.
Coal could turn into diamonds but diamonds were forever.
And to top it all off, he had been able to locate the hideout but rather than address all of us in order to join him, he had briefly notified Barbara before declaring his one-man operation. He was at his physical peak one more with his mind as sharp as ever, but it was one thing to take Cass and myself out in the training bay, a warehouse full of armed men was entirely another. Calculated risks were part of the job, but not death traps.
Well, death traps were too, but not if you could avoid them.
I had in the adjacent borough when Barbara sent out the message. Seeing how I had ridden down with Batman, I had to waste forty-nine seconds borrowing a motorcycle out of a private parking lot. As I raced across the city, I vented to Barbara until she closed the connection and then I vented to Robin until he closed the connection, arriving at the scene.
Barbara had tried to quell me by saying Bruce knew what he was doing.
The man had a six-month-old baby at home and a fiancée.
His first night back and he was alone with more than a dozen armed men.
The last time he was in active duty, he took a bullet to the head.
He did not know what he was doing.
Making a wide enough turn to drive passed the open doorway of the warehouse, I glanced briefly inside to see Batgirl and Robin diligently securing a dozen limp figures on the ground. The gave me a short summary of what had transpired, including the fact that Batman had taken off on the roof of a white getaway van. I wanted to ask how many had been downed before they had arrived, but I didn't have the time.
Thankfully, there weren't too many white vans with caped figures riding on them.
At a minimum of seventy-five miles per an hour, the van took sharp corners, its wheels coming up from the pavement in an attempt to get Batman off of roof. Seeing how I had managed to procure a BMW HP Sport motorcycle, it was no task in catching up to them, backed with Quickshifter technology and top speeds of over two hundred and seventy miles per an hour. The wind hurt as it hit my bare face, something I became less concerned about when I heard gunfire up ahead.
Closing in, I spotted flashes of light within the tinted back windows and sudden moves of evasion from the figure holding on to the roof. Bullets flew skyward from the interior in a regular pattern, deemed to be a semi-automatic handgun given the quick pops instead of thundering rapports. At twenty feet off, I saw a bullet hit Batman in the right arm, his blood shooting out like fireworks and spraying over the white, glossy exterior of the vehicle. Still, he held strong and proceeded to flip over in front of the windshield to block their view.
The tactic was generally successful in causing the driver to crash, especially at high speeds. With the on-ramp for the interstate highway not even a tenth of a mile away and not entirely certain how badly my mentor was hurt, I wasn't about to take any chances. I gunned it, closing in the last hundred yards, thankful that the few other drivers on the road were still on the shoulder, recovering from being violently passed by the van.
Pulling out in front and putting a few yards between us, I shot my left hand back, deploying a compartment of tacks to the pavement. The van's tires snapped as they flew over the metal bits and the battered vehicle began to swerve viciously back and forth from the driver's blind corrections.
"Bail, they're going to crash!" I called over the comm. link, trying to divert my attention the road in front of me.
He didn't so much as look at me, instead focusing on turning to face the windshield.
I pulled back in order to ride parallel to van just as he smashed through the windshield with a small explosive. Still not even entirely in the vehicle, I watched on as he pummeled the occupants, starting right of the bat by one-punching the driver. In part, I knew it was because he wanted them to suffer, but the reasoning behind it was that if their bodies were limp when the van crashed, they were less likely to suffer grievous injuries.
Knowing it was futile to board the sinking ship, I opted to navigate beside it, keeping my eyes on any possible obstructions. There was an intersection less than a mile ahead, but there was no need to remind him of it. A small window of opportunity presented itself in the form of a grassy embankment and he took it, jerking the wheel the right. I readily braked, opting to park on the shoulder as the van rolled through two rotations before coming to a stop.
As I carefully navigated the steep bank, I was relieved to see only steam emitting from under the crumpled hood. After a few thuds, the side door popped out enough to reveal Batman dragging out two moaning figures. The overhead streetlights did little to conceal the scene before me, including the wetness running down his arm. He glanced up at me briefly as I arrived next to the van but before I could say anything, he said, "Lyle's tip was right."
"So I see. You could have waited for me."
"No, I couldn't have," he growled as he returned into the van. He emerged a moment later carrying two duffle bags, and the semi-automatics that had been used on him, "They would have been long gone by the time you showed up and I would have been empty handed."
Sirens began wailing in the distance and I said, "No time to interrogate them."
He glared down at the men at our feet before slowly crouching above the one that was somewhat conscious. There was an ugly laceration over the man's temple and his arm lay in a very unnatural position. Batman glared down at him and added, "They'll go to the police ward at Mercy General. I'll question them after their bones are set. For the time being."
By the time we had made it to the street, the Batmobile had arrived on autopilot and Batman was quick to jump in. He glanced at me again, "We're done here. Return the cycle and return to the Cave."
Knowing full well that Bruce wouldn't, I called Alfred and brought him up to speed on how the first night back had played out. He had been quick to ask, "And how severely injured is Master Bruce?"
I slowly put a leg over the bike, "He was fighting long before I got there. Plus a bullet clipped his arm."
"Ah, considerably more fortunate that I had anticipated. I shall see you upon your return, sir."
Setting my weight on the cycle, I sighed, "Don't wake Selina. I want to ream him out before she does."
^V^
I had feared that Master Bruce's first night back would resemble his first night ever.
So many years ago, I had found in him the study, back when he had still referred to it as his father's study. He had barely been conscious, blood freely flowing from an untended gunshot wound severing the cubical artery. Later, as I stitched him up, he had admitted that a police officer had shot him, but that an underage prostitute had been responsible for the deep stab wound in his thigh.
"And this?" I had inquired, pointing to the laceration on his brow.
He had smirked before answering, "That would be when I flipped the police car after I was taken into custody."
"Of course, sir."
From that night forward, he seemed to have brandished a new wound each night, reaching a pinnacle moment after a terrifying showdown with Gotham's finest resulting in numerous gunshot wounds and broken bones. It was then that the learning curve seemed to sharpen, the injuries became less threatening and more frequent. Certainly during grave endeavors, he would stumble his way home in need of medical attention. For the less serious injuries, he often chose t self-treat as a way of avoiding my commentary.
Something suggested that Master Bruce would not be willing to hear my words as I tended to him after his second premiere night in the cowl.
And although his young protégé had urged me not to, I found myself immediately making way to the third floor to wake Ms. Kyle.
I paused before her door and took a breath before rapping. After a few moments, she opened it, her raven hair in quite a disarray but the clarity in her eyes said she had not been sleeping, "What is it, Alfred?"
"Master Bruce and the others will be returning shortly, and-."
"Is he hurt?" was her instant response.
"Nothing a few stitches won't mend."
"Right…" she glanced back into the darkened room behind her before sighing, "I'll get my robe."
"Ms. Sel-."
She cut me off once more, and although her words were curt, her tone wasn't, "Don't waste your breath, Alfred."
I opted to wait for her as she donned her husband's heavy robe and his slippers. Before making our way to the elevator, she checked in on her daughter briefly, silently exiting the room with a hand held baby monitor. Descending into the Cave, I informed her of what little Master Dick had relayed to me. When she inquired as to why he had engaged the men on his own, I promptly answered, "I feel that the others were too far off to wait for."
Just as we reached the subterranean level, she shook her head, "I told him to be careful."
"I assure you that Master Bruce used the utmost caution possible in the scenario at hand."
"Right, Alfred, and I'm just a girl who likes cats and shiny things."
I repressed a smile as she stepped out of the elevator car, giving her a stride's length before following. As I prepared the medical bay for triage, Ms. Kyle paced, the slippers making soft scuffing noises instead of the angry clack of her usual high heeled shoes. There was no need to assure her that he was fine or that the risk was worth the price he paid as she was more than aware. That, and the look on her face suggested she was not worried for her beau's welfare in the least.
As the roar of a motorcycle broke into the cavern, I wondered if Master Bruce would require more stitches after speaking with Ms. Selina.
Looking to the open space when the motorcycle came to a halt, I was surprised to see it was both Master Tim and Miss Cassandra aboard. Neither looked to be any worse for the wear from when they had departed earlier in the evening but I promptly inquired each if they were all right. Ms. Selina watched on silently, finally resting in one place, somewhat pleased to find that her new family members were unharmed.
Master Tim was quick to shed his mask and gloves although his female counterpart seemed reluctant to do the same. I wondered if she had an intention to return to the city, seeing how there were still a few hours until dawn. She was very much like her mentor in that respect, even though she had only been with us for such a short time.
The Batmobile arrived ten minutes later just as Master Tim had disappeared into the costume vault. Standing between the dark vehicle and Ms. Selina, I suddenly wondered if there was a safer and perhaps less tense spot in the Cave best suited for my well being. Thankfully, Miss Cassandra had remained suited up and was at full attention.
When the door pulled back, I made the first move out of those present, offering my charge assistance out of the vehicle and to the medical bay. Master Dick had mentioned the gunshot wound I spotted on his right arm, already dressed with a compress bandage and a tourniquet. As expected, her refused my direct aide, stepping out of the car carrying two duffle bags towards the lab area, calling out to Master Tim to start cataloguing evidence. Noticing that Miss Cassandra was still standing idly by, he handed her the bags and informed her to help in the tedious process.
She was unbeatable physical force in the field, but was still learning the ropes of detective work.
Ms. Selina then stepped forward silently, looking over the bloodied form of her husband-to-be, her face appearing as though she were about to scream at him as opposed to crying. She kept her distance, following us silently as we proceeded to the medical bay. Once on the gurney, he slowly removed his mask, tunic and gloves before unlocking the body armor underneath. Armor that had saved his life hundreds of times over the years.
The wound to his left deltoid looked much worse than it actually was, the bullet having missed major blood vessels and leaving minimal muscle damage in its path. His face wasn't too worse for the wear, minor nicks and only one bruise at his temple. In addition, several massive bruises covered his torso, from what appeared to be round blunt objects of some sort. Lastly, several lacerations from glass and debris as a result of the accident laced his forearms.
Working from the largest to smallest threat, I sterilized and stitched as quickly as possible. Ms. Selina stood to my flank, still not uttering a word. I bandaged Master Bruce's arm and several of the more serious lacerations with four-by fours and medical tape, the white material standing out starkly against his bruised flesh. He sat motionless throughout, his eyes never leaving the figure standing behind me, even as I administered a tetanus booster and a dose of antibiotics to prevent infection.
When I began to measure a pain killer, Master Bruce deftly rose and strode out of the medical bay, Ms. Selina quickly following him. He paused only briefly to tell his young protégés that he would return momentarily to go through the evidence, not committing to an actual measurement of time. They then proceeded to stairs, still having not exchanged a single utterance.
After nearly and hour, Master Dick had yet to arrive, nor had Master Bruce returned. I decided it was wise to investigate matters in the Manor. As I passed the computer bay, the private phone line rang to life and I quickly answered, "Yes?"
"Al, I'm going to stay in the city tonight…" Without being prompted, he explained his change in plans, "I know if I go up there, I only do something I'll regret in the morning."
I offered, "Or say something."
"Right," he sighed heavily, "And besides, I'm sure Selina's going do… or say the same thing I would… only with more…"
"Conviction, sir?"
His voice was lighter when he replied, "Exactly. They have the runaways in custody and all of the thugs from the warehouse, so at least that's a big blow to Two-Face. APB is out on the getaway cars… hopefully we can pick up something from the bags he collected… Tim and Cass made it back… bet he's dumped the grunt work on them."
I looked towards the laboratory, smiling to see Miss Cassandra had finally removed her cowl, "That he has, sir. Will we see you in the morning?"
"Of course. 'Night, Alfred."
"Good night, Master Dick."
I gave my youngest charges another thirty minutes to work before suggesting it was wise to call it a night as well. While Master Tim finished cataloging a collection bullet magazine clips, Miss Cassandra finally left the shed her guise, emerging from the costume vault in oversized gray sweat pants and a fitted black shirt. Ushering them up the stairs to be sure they left the Cave, I rewarded them with a brief stop to the kitchen where a fresh plate of chocolate and peanut butter cookies had been waiting. They put a sizeable dent in the pile of treats and downed two glasses of milk a piece before admitting to being sated.
Had Master Dick returned with them, surely the plate would have been emptied.
After securing them in separate guest rooms on the second floor of the east wing, I proceeded to the third level of the west. My ears listened carefully for shouts or flying objects or the shatter of priceless collectibles, but nothing seemed to disturb the silence of the old house. As I reached the top of the stairs, I was surprised to see Master Bruce approaching, concealing the lower half of his suit with his robe. me in the hall.
Before he said a word, I noted that Master Tim and Miss Cassandra were resting after their endeavors of the evening. He nodded slightly before inquiring, "Has Dick returned yet?"
"No, he has decided it was best to remain in the city for the night, given the late hour."
As skilled as he was at concealing his emotions, I had the luxury of more than three decades of experience in translating the most minute of gestures. There was a considerable amount of anger in his eyes, but I was uncertain as to whether it was directed at Master Dick or himself.
He stepped forward suddenly, descending the stairs two at a time. Before he was out of earshot, I called out, "Will there be anything else, Master Bruce?"
Without pausing, he replied, "No, Alfred."
I waited until he was out of sight before sighing, "Good night, sir."
Either he had made peace with his betrothed or she had banished him from their sleeping quarters.
Something I would have to learn from her the next morning over blueberry pancakes.
^V^