The scratching sound from the broom bristles sweeping across the floor echo through the long empty rooms of the manor. Years old dust picks up and settles as an elderly man hunches over slightly while cleaning the floors. With each swipe of the broom, the man smiles as another memory sweeps across his mind.
"Pennyworth!" a voice screams from the foyer down below. For an instant, the elder man is back within that house, back when it was full of life and joy.
"Yes Master Wayne!" he replies before he can catch himself. Years of service had made the reply automatic, and as the gentleman reaches the top of the stairs to greet him, the elder tries his best to hide his embarrassment.
"I'm sorry Mr. Pennyworth, come again?" The clearly winded man takes a moment to catch his breath at the top of the stairs. "My gosh, can you believe people actually lived in here, its so huge." The elder remains quiet as the man squeezes out an apology in between breaths.
"Sorry, didn't mean anything by that. Of course you know that people lived…" The man's weak attempt at apologizing is interrupted by the sound of a loud series of knocks on the door.
"Okay Pennyworth, its showtime. This is your final obligation to the manor, and then we can send you on your way to be with your daughter in England. Let's go see this thing through!" he responds in a rather upbeat manner.
"Yes Mr. Zucco, let's see this through. This house holds as many good memories as bad and I am getting too advanced in age to continue torturing myself.
Mr. Pennyworth walks downstairs to greet the voices he heard within the Manor's foyer. Standing by the door, Mr. Zucco stood with what appeared to be a couple and their son. Zucco glances a sharp look at Pennyworth, almost with disdain for not attending to them with more haste.
"Pennyworth, these are the Grayson's. You remember our appointment for them to tour the grounds, yes?" Mr. Pennyworth quietly nods, clearing his throat though no words were seeking a chance to exit.
"Right. So Mr. Grayson. You've seen the grounds of the estate. Does this seem like a suitable location to bring your circus troupe. We haven't had the circus in Gotham in a very long time."
The stern man looks past Zucco as his attention is taken away by the majesty of the mansion. With a call to his wife, they both stand and marvel at the architecture showcased within. As if snapping out of a trance, he looks around intently before calling out to his son.
"Richard! Richard, make yourself known to me right now." The returned silence brings a look of worry to Mrs. Grayson which prompts Alfred to speak.
"Not to worry my dear. I will find the young lad. I do have some experience finding lost, curious boys within these walls." A nervous Zucco smiles as he pats Alfred on the back in a dismissive manner.
"Yes, not to worry. Mr. Pennyworth here will bring the young boy back to us while we discuss final terms."
"He may answer to Dick. The boy is a very curious one. Thank you Mr. Pennyworth. We will wait here for your return."
"It is no trouble Mr. Grayson. And please, call me Alfred."
Alfred walks through a few of the first level rooms, his attention waning for brief periods as he recollects moments past. As he makes his way into the study, he pauses before the fireplace to stare up at the family portrait perched above. A tear drips down from his eye as he speaks lowly to himself.
"I failed you all. I'm so sorry Master Wayne."
"Who's Master Wayne?" The inquisitive voice startled Alfred as he turns with a skip to face a young boy. Standing there, the young Grayson boy looks at Alfred in anticipation of an answer.
"Is that Master Wayne?" Dick points at the faded portrait, his eyes fixed on the young boy without a smile. Alfred turns back to the picture before answering.
"Yes Master Richard, that there is Mister Thomas Wayne with his wife Martha and their boy Bruce. This is their house." His words come out a bit choked as he speaks about the former family.
"So if this is their house, why does it look so empty? Do they still live here?"
"I'm afraid they do not. Now come, your parents await our haste return." Dick does not budge as Alfred motions to walk away.
"Then where are they? What happened to them?" With unintended foreboding, Alfred dreadfully responds to the young boy.
"That story Master Richard, begins on one sad and fateful night."