Issue #13 – The Titans and Mr. Pennyworth
Bart stared up at the huge iron gates. They looked like prison gates or the gates to an old castle where they used to torture maidens for Saturday entertainment. They sent a shiver down his spine, and his eyes fell over the words etched into them: Wayne Manor. None of the trees around the mansion had leaves, and the house itself resembled an insane asylum more than an actual living space. How anyone could call this home, Bart wasn't sure. Then he remembered it was Batman's. "God, he's so super intense."
Bart smoothed down his t-shirt, and he started to tap his foot impatiently. There was the rushing of air, and Superboy landed in front of him. Superboy started buttoning a flannel shirt over his S t-shirt.
"It's about time you got here," Bart said.
"Hey, I had to come out here all the way from Kansas, alright?"
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Where's Cassie?"
"She's not coming. Something about not skipping school. I dunno. Something dumb like that."
Superboy was now Conner Kent again, typical farm boy, straight down to the glasses. Bart almost chuckled every time he saw it. It was so totally not Conner. At all. "So," Bart started, "how should we go about doing this? Do we just go knock on the door?"
"We can't just walk in, can we?"
"I know, but…well, you know how Tim and Batman are. They're kind of, um…you know…."
"Creepy? Spooky? Weird?"
"Paranoid. What if this place is booby trapped. I mean, what if we ring the doorbell and then the Batapult launches us into the stratosphere. Or maybe it unleashes a swarm of killer bees—Bat-bees. Or maybe he'll sic Ace the Bat-Hound on us."
"Ace the Bat-Hound?"
Bart shrugged. "I don't think he has one, but I could swear I read about it once."
Conner just rolled his eyes and grabbed Bart by the back of his shorts. Bart squirmed and whined as Conner gave him a super wedgie over the gate and they landed on the front step. He just smiled as Bart gave him the meanest of glares, and he pounded on the door.
Bang. Bang. Bang. He could hear it echoing around the manor.
A full minute passed. Then the door opened to reveal a proper elderly gentleman, gray hair where he wasn't bald, and a moustache. He wore a suit, but no jacket, and he carried a feather duster. "May I help you?" he asked. Then curtly, he added, "And more pressingly, may I ask how you passed through the gate? It is quite impolite to trespass, which is what you are doing since I did not open the gate for you."
Conner and Bart blinked at him. "What were we supposed to do?" Bart asked. "Shout until you heard us?"
"There's a buzzer, sir. It is clearly marked. Unless, of course, you cannot read. May I inquire what has brought you to our doorstep?"
"Yeah," Conner said. "We're here to see Tim."
"Tim?"
"Uh, yeah… Tim Drake….?"
"Oh, please don't tell me we have the wrong address," Bart muttered.
The man looked them over for a moment. There was something about his eyes which suddenly made them both feel self-conscious. Conner became aware that his shirt was untucked and that his jeans had a hole ripped into the knee. Bart crossed his arms to cover the text on his shirt: Take Off Your Pants and Jacket. He tried not to think about what was on the back.
"Please come this way," the man said, motioning them inside.
The boys let out a collective sigh of relief. Bart nudged Conner. "Super intense," he whispered. "Super intense!"
"Please, have a seat," the man said, motioning to two chairs by the stairs. They sat down, and then he walked out of the room.
Conner looked up at Bart. Bart looked up at Conner. They both shrugged.
The man returned with a tray of cookies and two glasses of milk. "It has been a while since Master Drake has stayed at the manor, and I must say his presence has brought us all sorts of company. Master Grayson has made regular appearances, along with Miss Gordon and Miss Cain. If there is a positive to Master Drake's misfortune, it is that it has brought a certain bit of liveliness back into the conversation in this house."
Bart chuckled between bites of cookie. "Bruce isn't much of a talker, eh?"
The man glared at him. "Mister Wayne prefers to keep conversation to a minimum."
The tone of the man's voice made Bart sit straighter in the chair.
"Master Drake," the old butler said, "is still recuperating. As I am sure you are aware, he does not sleep well, not even when he is ill. If he is sleeping, I will have to ask that you do not disturb him. I will be back immediately." He took three steps up the stairs, and then he stopped. He looked directly at them. "Please refrain from touching anything."
"God," Bart muttered, "how did he know?"
Conner shrugged. "You know, this might be the best cookie I've ever had." He shoved too more into his mouth.
A few minutes past, then they heard the creaking of the stairs. The butler stood in front of them. "Master Wayne is sitting with him now. He will be down to address you in a few moments."
The boys nodded, their hearts sinking just a little. They wanted to see Tim. The less they had to interact with Bruce Wayne, really, the better.
The butler cleared his throat. "I have known Master Wayne since he was just a boy, and I have had the privilege to meet several of his…associates…. Over the years, I feel I have come to know them fairly well, and in doing so, I am almost certain you two have not heard these words: thank you."
They both looked up. "What?"
"From what I understand, it was your efforts which led to finding Master Drake." He looked at Conner. "Without you, the situation could have had a much dire ending."
Conner rubbed the back of his head.
"I am aware you were the second on the scene," the man said, looking at Bart. "This has not been the best of years for Master Drake or us. I cannot overstate the extent of our gratitude."
Bart blushed a little.
"Please pass our gratitude on to Master Drake's other friends as well. I understand his rescue came at the cost of personal injury." He eyed the scar on Conner's throat. Conner tried to cover it. It really wasn't a big deal—it would probably be gone by the end of the week anyway.
Bart was not as modest. "I'll say!" he chimed. He pulled his legs up to the chair and pulled back his shorts, exposing his knees. "See here? That's where the bullets went through. Luckily, they went clear out the front so I didn't have to get another operation. I know you can't see any scars, which is one of the bad parts of the fast metabolism 'cause scars are cool, but it still really sucked. It wasn't that big of a deal though. I'm tough." He pounded his chest. "I can take it."
The butler coughed. "Yes, well, while I appreciate your sacrifice, it does not thrill me to hear stories of young people endangering their lives. It never has, and it never will. If you will excuse me, I have unfinished business with a pesky bit of dust in the library, but I believe I hear Master Wayne descending the stairs now."
The butler disappeared behind a door, and they looked up to see a tall man in a suit. He wasn't like what Bart had expected. Bart wasn't sure what Conner expected, but he had read a lot of newspapers recently. In all the pictures, all the magazine articles, Bruce Wayne always smiled. He always had a girl on each arm, some Champaign, and just generally seemed air headed and carefree. Descending the staircase, though, he looked grim and solemn. He looked like Batman.
Bart sighed. "So intense."
Bruce stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Tim is sleeping right now. You may go see him, but I insist that you do not wake him." He stared directly at Bart. "That means not a sound. If you follow me, I will show you to his room."
They stood up, and they followed. As they did, Bruce glanced at his watch. "You are both supposed to be in school right now."
"Please don't tell Wally."
"Or Superman."
Bruce turned to them. "I won't. But if you skip school again…"
"You will?"
Bruce shook his head, and he looked them right in the eyes. "No. You will answer to me."
They swallowed hard. They were at Tim's room, though, and Bruce held the door open for them. He reminded them to be quiet, but then he left them to their privacy.
Tim looked…he looked more or less like Tim. He seemed a little smaller than usual, though. The blanket was pulled up to his waist, but his top was bare, so they could see the tape around his rubs and the bruising. He had a bandage on his neck from the tazer burn, and his hand was in a cast too. His face looked a lot better though, but he only took small breaths. It looked like it hurt him to breathe. His laptop lay open beside him on the bed. Bart walked over to it, looked at the screen, and smiled.
Conner raised an eyebrow.
Bart turned the computer so he could see, and Conner chuckled. It said World of Warcraft. Tim was such a nerd sometimes.
After about ten minutes, the butler came back and asked them to give Tim his peace. So they did, and as the huge oak door to Wayne Manor closed behind them, Bart turned to Conner and asked, "So…do you think he'll be okay?"
"He's tough. I'm sure he's been through worse. He'll be back flipping and tossing batarangs in no time."
"I didn't mean physically. I mean, do you think he'll be okay…?" Bart tapped his chest.
Conner shrugged. "Who knows with Tim? I bet when he dies, nobody will know for the longest time because his body will keep going through the motions like nothing is wrong."
Bart nodded. "I want him to be okay."
"Me too, man. Me too."
