"When you stare into the Abyss, the Abyss stares back through you."
Friedrich Nietzsche
Alfred was always so prompt. The ever-proper butler already had a tray of painkillers and several rolls of bandages in hand when the master of the house limped back into the Batcave.
"I trust the sting went well, Master Bruce?"
The Batman, a terrible and fearsome vision to Gotham's criminal element, smirked. "As well as could be expected. Two-Face made a mistake in his defenses, as I expected, but he recovered well." He pointed at the bullet wound in his shoulder and his split lip. "He had the Two Ton Gang with him on this one. The sting operation worked itself out on its own, really. I wasn't really needed this time around. Commissioner Gordon was able to handle things well enough."
"And how do you explain the mess you're trailing into the house?" Alfred inquired primly, turning a nose at the trail of blood Batman was leaving behind him.
"Two-Face tried to escape," Batman replied tersely. He took a pair of pliers from the tray and extracted the bullet from his own shoulder. He didn't even grunt. The bullet and the pliers fell on the tray with a dull clang.
"This was the only major debacle this entire month, wasn't it, Master Bruce?" Alfred noted.
Batman nodded, busily binding his own injuries. When he was finished, he elaborated in his gravelly tone, "After I put the Joker into Arkham last month, everyone's been keeping their heads low. Most in the Rogues Gallery don't want to end up with a broken jaw, broken arm, broken leg, broken pelvis…you get the idea."
"Your tactics have certainly gotten…more intimidating in recent months, Master Bruce," Alfred said with thinly-veiled disapproval.
"I'm losing the city, Alfred," Batman said with a sigh. He limped to a precipice overlooking the seemingly bottomless abyss of the Batcave. The sounds of hissing and flapping wings echoed from the shadows. Batman stared into the darkness and let it stare back through him. Nietzsche suddenly ran through his mind. "I'm losing the city to the criminals and I had to send them a message. This city is still under my protection. Even if I have to walk as close to the line as I've ever been."
"Just make sure you don't cross it," Alfred said sharply, warningly.
Batman sighed. "I know. I fear the day that happens, every time I put on this mask. The war, Alfred…the war against others, against yourself…one grows tired of it, sometimes."
"You never seemed to worry when Master Richard was around."
A frown slashed through Batman's strong face. "We…did not part on the gladdest of terms, did we?"
"One would think that was where this whole mess started, Master Bruce. Young Master Richard always seemed to bring in a bit of sunshine into this dismal place. I cannot say I completely agree with his decision to forge his own path—he is, what? Only seventeen—but I cannot say I completely disagree, sir."
Batman's brows curled down in irritation. He did not like being reminded of his parting words with his onetime partner. "Your point, Alfred?" The tone was hard, and the gravel had turned to immovable granite.
Alfred recognized the stubbornness growing in Gotham's fiercest crimefighter and was undaunted. "My point, with all due respect, sir, is that Master Richard was right. You're becoming what you're fighting against, and its frightening. To him, to Miss Barbara, and to me. What Robin and Batgirl need is someone to look up to and emulate, Bruce. All you've been these past few months is a slave driver or worse—a general. A general turning young people into your soldiers in your personal war."
Batman growled but turned his head away, unable to defend himself against the cold logic—and the colder truth—behind his oldest friend's words. "I…" Batman faltered. "I…I…was wrong."
Suddenly, Alfred smiled. "There, now was that so difficult? Don't you feel better now, Master Bruce?"
"I don't know why I let you get away with these things," Batman replied, his voice lighter than it had been in months.
Alfred folded his arms across his chest in a rare moment of superiority. "I diapered your bottom. I bloody well should get away with it." Then, smiling with the humor of the moment, Alfred took a rolled newspaper from the tray. "Today's news, Master Bruce."
"Thank you, Alfred." Batman unfurled the paper and read the headline. And then his eyes widen in shock.
"Is something the matter, Master Bruce?"
Batman said nothing. He just showed him the front page.
ROBIN—MURDERER?
The Boy Wonder Sends Criminal Mastermind to Hospital. Condition Critical.
When Batman spoke, his voice had returned to its granite grimness. "Alfred. Prep the Batmobile."