I do not own, neither did I create Batman/Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Leslie Thompkins, or Gotham City. The other characters in this chapter I did create.

This story is not being posted for financial gain, so please just read it and enjoy. ?

The steamy, oppressive atmosphere of the jungle helped quell the situation further. Once he'd pulled away from the calming youth, Bruce had released a low-spreading gas, which once inhaled caused unconsciousness for those lying on the ground or crawling over it within minutes. It only rose to a little below his knees however and caused no irritation to the skin. Waller's troops would have little to do when they came. Bruce's time until they did was almost up.

His co-conspirators gathered around him. He scanned them for hints to their conditions, physically and emotionally. Then he sensed movement behind him. Bruce spun, drawing a knife he'd taken from a soldier he'd laid low.

He froze in a throwing stance meeting the gaze a twelve or thirteen-year-old boy. Bruce didn't think he'd seen him before. The youth backed away without breaking eye-contact. He didn't wear a gun, or seem to carry any weapon at all, but was dressed similarly to the other boys around him.

Bruce lowered the blade slightly and squinted. A glint of gold flashed off the youth's chest from a tiny cross hanging around his neck. The boy glanced down briefly, before looking back up to meet Bruce's gaze again. "Sir, I am Malachi. May I speak to you?"

Bruce didn't take his eyes off Malachi as he lowered the knife. He stood straighter while continuing to stare down at the boy. He kept the others within his sphere of peripheral vision. Bruce thought he saw their eyes widen. One's mouth hung open. Bruce lowered and hardened his tone. "Why didn't you eat the candy they handed out?"

The small, gelatin candies he'd given his helpers should have kept any who ingested them unconscious for two hours at least, more depending upon their weight. He would have been out about three hours after ingesting two. This child should have been out for eight with the same amount in his system. The alertness of the boy, though, told him he'd had none.

The boy pursed his mouth and stared at him as if unsure to speak and lifted his empty hands. "I am a Christian sir. I went to a school for Christian boys and girls at the behest of my parents every day, but Sunday. They wanted me educated to perhaps become a doctor or a minister or some very smart and wealthy man to help them and my other family, my neighbors too."

The boy paused. He looked down at the ground before continuing. "One day, I gave my heart to Christ and I began to feel Him in my heart, The Holy Spirit. I thought, 'I should do everything his voice inside me says to do." The youth's form slumped further. "But I haven't always.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at Malachi but remained silent as the boy went on. "One day, I felt the Holy Spirit tell me 'Do not go to school, stay home with your mother and father, brother and sisters. Do not go to school with the other boys and girls who do. And I thought "This is stupid, or course I must go to school and become educated and help others. Why would Holy Spirit tell me this?"

Bruce tilted his head and raised his eyebrows further still. The thin shoulders of the boy slumped again. "But … That day 'they' came, in jeeps, when we were far from the school and far from the village, they came. They took us, the boys, and … some of the girls." The boy's eyes grew haunted. He stared at nothing as he went on in a hollow voice. "I stayed up at night wondering, and shaking, and praying to God for forgiveness. I told Him I would never disobey again. I should have followed his voice inside me that day."

Bruce now stared sadly at the boy, in silence. Malachi looked back up to meet his gaze. "Today, when the others handed out the candy, I wanted it. But I heard the Spirit tell me, "Don't eat it. So, I didn't. I was angry, but I did not, and then was sad, because of my promise and what happened before. Then I noticed the others slept. After that I hear the coughing, the fight. I hide and watch."

"And now?"

"And now, I feel the spirit telling me something else to say … to you."

"What?"

"This," the boy pointed to the leader now unconscious on the ground. "Is 'not' the leader."

Bruce blinked at the boy. He could see the face of the nearby boy he'd comforted in his peripheral vision. His red eyes were scowling. Bruce interrupted before he found something to say. "What do you mean 'this is not the leader' Malachi?"

"I mean, he is the leader 'here,'" the boy pointed to the ground beneath his feet and then raised his arm and made a circle over his head. His arm then fell back to his side before he continued. "But 'his' leader, from another place, promised him the 'whole country' in exchange for something."

Bruce's brows flew up. "Where and what?"

Boy lifted his hands into the air and shrugged. "I don't know. They decided I was too fresh, and 'weak' for fighting, but I was an educated and 'early' capture. They had me watch the radio equipment, take notes, and get them if they were nearby when someone contacted them on it, since my first few days in their army. They say many things to each other, the officers and people on the radio, but I think their true leader is like you, an American. A very rich American who says he's given many places, and power, and gifts to many people all over the world when they do what he says." Malachi's arm made an arch over his head and in front of him to gesture to the outer reaches of the globe.

Bruce brows rose further still as the boy looked back to him. "I took a message and passed it on this morning. "Leader's servant will be coming soon landing in a clearing in a helicopter. When someone comes to help you here, you should take them to it and get 'true' leader or at least his servant to perhaps stop even more evil around the world."

. . .

Years later, a knock sounded at the door of Leslie's Thomkins guest bedroom. Madge jumped. Then she rose from the bed and strode to the door. She opened it a crack and peeked out. Then she pulled it opened with a smile. "Teach."

Alfred stepped into the room grinning. "Hello, miss Robertson. I hear you've met my cousin, along with that monstrosity downstairs Mrs. Winters calls a dog."

Madge snorted. She turned and walked deeper into the room. "That mutt 'is' a monster. I wouldn't be able to get used to him even if I lived here forever."

"I'm fear you wouldn't like living at Mrs. Winters home then."

Madge spun around her eyes wide. Alfred's grin had disappeared. Wrinkles of sadness had appeared around his eyes and mouth. "She has rather a lot of dogs. They live in the kennels rather than the mansion itself, but you would likely encounter them frequently along with the man who cares for them should you choose to live there for a time."

Madge tilted her head at Alfred. Then she stepped up to him cautiously. "What is it like, Alfred, her place?"

Alfred's eyes widened. The wrinkles of sadness disappeared. "Oh, it is far larger than this home, far larger. It is best considered a 'country estate.' There is far more work to be done there for certain, more beds to be made, silver to be polished, and halls to be swept."

Madge's voice rose a few decibels. "And I'd have to do them all?"

Alfred grinned and shook his head. "Of course not, I'd help you at first, teaching you how and then I will also teach the other young ladies."

Madge's hands went to her hips. "What other 'young ladies?'"

"Alice, for one, with perhaps others to follow."

Madge's brows furrowed. "I'd have to live there with 'Alice' again? And 'what' 'others to follow?'"

"Any lady in need who accepts our offer for training and work as you have."

"That's the plan?"

"Mrs. Winters house needs to be cared for, and other ladies, like yourself, may wish to take advantage of an opportunity to learn new skills, be paid fair wages for housework for a time, and gain glowing referrals from influential people to help them take advantage of other experiences and opportunities later."

"So, I'm just one of many young ladies in need, am I?"

Alfred's expression hardened. He raised his head, straightened his back, and tilted his chin in before looking Madge in the eye. "You are 'the' young lady who contacted us about Miss Thomkins disappearance so we could begin our search for and rescue of her."

Madge froze under the butler's stare. Alfred went on in a gentler voice. "We aren't likely to ever forget that, Miss Robertson. Others may also need a helping hand, but you've provided far more than that to us already."

. . .

Years earlier, in a jungle in Africa, Malachi dropped his waving hands and turned his stare upon Bruce. The man lowered the knife he held all the way to his side and glanced at the other boys. One was rubbing his chin. He looked up when Bruce's glance fell on him. "'He' did go off sometimes with his 'trusted officers' after Malachi gave him messages."

"And he would come back looking very happy," the one with red eyes sourly added.

"Sometimes," another broke in. "Sometimes they left and came back looking more upset before giving us new orders."

Bruce lowered his own gaze in thought. That does sound like someone taking orders.

He turned back to Malachi. "Can you to this clearing now?"

Malachi jerked back. His eyes widened. "We should wait!"

"Why?"

Malachi stared and him another moment, then shrugged. "That is what I feel Spirit telling me to do."

"And what if I try to find the way myself 'now?'"

Malachi bowed his head and looked sad, then he looked up and blinked at Bruce. His eyes glistened. "Then, I'd have to go with you, but … I feel in my heart, my soul, I must tell you to wait. You should not go otherwise alone sir, not alone. You should wait for whoever is coming."

"Those coming to meet with your leader might leave as soon as they realize he's not there with his trusted officers. I'm taking my binoculars to study them as the come and go if that's the case. We need all the info on them as possible, and we cannot be late. Come."

The other four boys watched him curiously go as Malachi passed him and started heading off toward a particular area of the jungle, a path led its direction that looked like men had taken it fairly frequently. Bruce turned to the others. "You all stay until I return, or the other soldiers I told you about arrive. If they do so first, tell them what happened."

One of the others nodded and called after him, "We will!"

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God Bless

ScribeofHeroes