9

PHYSICIAN LIGHT

Alfred stopped in front of the antique grandfather clock in the library at Wayne Manor. Thomas Elliot stood next to him, unsure of what was happening. Elliot's personal assistant had knocked incessantly on his bedroom door until he had woken up. He was furious until she had apologetically explained that Bruce Wayne's private butler was on the phone with some sort of emergency. Alfred had given no explanation, just that Bruce Wayne desperately needed him and that it was literally a matter of life and death. Tommy had assumed that Bruce or one of his bimbos had overdosed on some drug.

Alfred opened the glass panel covering the face of the clock and turned the hands to 10:47. He closed the panel and placed his palm print directly on the glass. A blue light emitted from the clock and and bathed Alfred's hand and face in an eerie glow.

"Alpha Tango Charlie Papa," Alfred said crisply. He put his hand down and waited for 5 seconds. The clock opened up on hidden hinges, revealing a narrow brick hallway with stone stairs leading downward.

"Alfred, what the hell is going on?" Tommy asked.

"Please follow me, sir," Alfred replied cryptically as he descended the staircase. Tommy was too stunned to think of anything more to say and so simply followed. The staircase seemed long, slowly getting deeper and wider. Tommy estimated they must have gone two stories underground before they came out onto the central hub platform of the Cave. He looked around in astonishment.

"Please, sir," Alfred said as he continued walking to the infirmary. Tommy continued on in a daze. He followed Alfred to the infirmary where he saw a badly injured Bruce Wayne laying on an operating table, Leslie and a teenager he didn't know were standing over him. Tommy saw the broken cowl and bloody Batman uniform lying on the floor.

"You've got to be kidding me," he quietly said. "B-..."

"Tommy we don't have time for questions," Leslie urgently said. "Bruce has a head injury and we need you right now."

Tommy walked over to the comatose Bruce and opened up his eyes. Leslie handed him a penlight without asking and he looked at Bruce's pupils and nostrils. Tommy put the light down and felt along Bruce's neck, behind his ears, and gently felt around his head.

"Obviously there's some severe head injury here," he said, now in doctor mode. "Safe bet there's cerebral edema. We need to relieve the intracranial pressure to drain the excess fluid. We need to get him to a hospital. Now, before his ICP becomes fatal."

"No hospitals," Alfred stated emphatically. "No matter the danger, no hospitals. We need you to do what you can."

"I can't do anything here. I-"

"Tommy, trust me" Leslie interrupted. "Any equipment you need is here. I can assist and Alfred has extensive medical training. Jason can be a fourth pair of hands if we need him."

"Leslie, he could die."

"Believe me," she replied, "He's willing to take that risk over exposure."

Tommy made the decision quickly out of necessity. "Kid, I need a bucket with ice. Leslie, show me where all the equipment and supplies are. Alfred, be on standby. Everyone throw scrubs and masks on and wash up when we have everything."

Seven hours later Tommy, Alfred, and Leslie were in the War Room seated around a long black rectangular table. The table was topped with a clear polymer touch screen that interfaced with the massive monitor on the far wall. Tommy was impressed with the technology, as he had been with everything else he had seen in the Cave.

The surgery had gone well. Tommy had drilled 4 separate holes into Bruce's skull to relieve the pressure but had not had to do anything more invasive. Only time would tell if there had been more extensive damage. Bruce had been placed into an induced coma following the procedure and now was being monitored for any signs of stroke or seizure. It would be days before he was conscious.

The procedure had been grueling for all but Tommy, who was used to significantly longer operations. He had been astounded at Alfred's medical knowledge, and Jason had followed every direction without hesitation. After it was over Jason was given another evaluation and told to rest. He was asleep in one of the medical beds. Alfred had asked Tommy to sit in the War Room with he and Leslie. It was question and answer time.

"So... this is unexpected," Tommy began. He wasn't sure where to start. Question after question was forming in his head. Bruce Wayne being Batman made as much sense as Donald Trump being Superman. He couldn't fathom either.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," Leslie said. "We'll answer what we can."

"You could say that. I'm not even sure where to begin here."

"Whatever you think of first," Alfred said.

Tommy sighed and rubbed his eyes. "So is this real? Bruce really is the Batman? Not some copycat? I mean, I see all the equipment, everything, but I still just can't believe he's the Batman. Is he the only one? Are there Batmen?"

"It's him, Tommy. Just him," Leslie answered. "He's the only one there's ever been."

"Incredible." Tommy stared into the distance trying to organize his questions. "Okay, so is he a metahuman and I didn't know? Augmented somehow? It didn't seem like it, but to do what the Batman does..."

"Quite human," Alfred replied. "We work hard to make it seem otherwise. In a world that has a Superman and a Wonder Woman an

ordinary human dressed as a bat doesn't strike as much terror into people as an unknown does. The Batman is the result of years of training and technology."

"So when he was partying around the world-"

"Training. Always training in everything you can imagine. Martial arts, forensics, psychology, weapons, languages..."

"Languages?"

"Off the top of my head, Spanish, French, Russian, German, Arabic, Farsi, Cantonese, Mandarin, Japanese, Pashto, Urdu and various dialects of all of them. Probably a dozen more, some he's never mentioned. Like everything, he excels at it and devotes countless hours to study."

"He sounds obsessed."

"He is. He devotes every waking moment to learning anything that might be useful in the field."

Tommy was stunned into silence for a few moments. "It's funny, I remember him being smart as a kid, then after Tom and Martha died he just shut down. When he came back I thought he was just a drunk moron, no offense."

"None taken," Leslie said. "It's what he wants people to think. He's never been drunk."

"I've seen him drink. Every time we're out. Are all the bartenders in on it?" he asked sarcastically.

"A pill he helped design," Leslie told him. "Nullifies the effect."

"Incredible," Tommy repeated. He thought for a moment before asking "How does he fund it? Himself? It'd cost billions. He'd be caught pretty quickly."

Alfred gave a wry smile. "He studied forensic accounting while abroad. When he came back he set up numerous dummy corporations that do business with each other, transferring money all around. Less than a penny of every dollar Bruce Wayne makes goes towards funding the Batman. But with a sixty four billion dollar fortune that is a substantial amount. He also siphons off from numerous terrorist organizations. Al Qaeda, Hydra, H.I.V.E, Kobra, Intergang. Also cartels, gangs, mafia families. All fund the Batman and have no idea."

"He must get a kick out of that," Tommy said with a chuckle.

"I suspect that may be true," Alfred answered. "Though I doubt he'd ever admit as such."

"And it seems that you're more than a butler."

"Quite the contrary, I happen to be an excellent butler who excels in the duties assigned by his employer. I just happen to use some skills from previous occupations."

Leslie reached over and took Alfred's hand in hers. "He's being coy, Tommy," she said with a grin. "Alfred was a combat surgeon with the SAS and British intelligence after that. He taught Bruce some of what he knows."

"So you were Dr. James Bond, huh?"

"Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid," Alfred responded with a wry grin. "Though that is how I met Thomas Wayne."

"I've known you my entire life, now I feel like I don't know you at all. Any of you," Tommy said with sadness. "Who else knows? You guys, but what about Dick? Does- Oh, God... Is Dick-

"Robin. Dick is Robin," Leslie said. "Trained by Bruce."

"Jesus... Who is Batgirl?"

Leslie and Alfred looked at each other before Alfred responded. "That isn't our secret to tell."

Tommy ran his fingers through his hair. Question after question would come to him only to be pushed away by other questions. He felt overwhelmed. "Leslie, I can't believe you'd support this. This isn't you."

"It's reluctant support. I didn't know in the beginning. They came to me when they needed help, like we did with you tonight. He will keep doing this with or without our support. The Bruce Wayne you know doesn't exist. He is the most driven human being I've ever met. The most stubborn. He will never quit. And though I wish he would, I will not let him or his team die. I'm a doctor. My oath means everything. You of all people should understand that."

"Bruce has tried to keep as few people from knowing as possible," Alfred said. "It's for everyone's protection. But in an emergency such as this he has protocols for who can be brought in. Only people he truly trusts. He trusts you, Tommy. You're like an older brother to him. There's a lot to learn about this operation and I'm sure you have many more questions. So the question is are you in?"

Tommy grinned. "Yeah, I am definitely in."

Tommy pulled his Porsche up to the circular driveway at his family estate. It was morning outside now, and although drained from the sleepless night and surgery, he was wide awake from the shock of the things he had recently learned. He got out, walked to the door and opened it, stepping inside. His mother was already waiting in the foyer, her first martini in hand.

"On call?" she slurred sardonically.

"Not exactly, mom..." Tommy replied as he passed her.

"So did you find a woman stupid enough to take you home or just screw a whore?"

Tommy stopped and turned to face her. He loathed her with every fiber of his being. If I could just get away with it, he thought. "I found a whore smart enough to take my money. Want me to tell you what we did?"

"Don't be vulgar," she sneered. Tommy smirked and went upstairs.

Tommy entered his massive room, shut the door and locked it. He walked towards his closet, undressing along the way. The maid would get it later. Fully nude, he entered his closet and opened a drawer built into the wall. He took a small glass vial, razor blade, short metal straw, and small square mirror out.

Tommy walked into his bathroom and placed the mirror down on the counter. He opened the vial and tapped out a small amount of cocaine onto the mirror. Using the razor blade he divided the drug into two fat lines. He took the metal straw and snorted a line into each nostril. He licked his finger and used it to get the residue on the mirror, rubbing it on his gums.

Tommy went to his shower and turned it on, waiting for the jets to get to the perfect hot temperature. He stepped inside and let the hot water flow all over him. He laughed to himself. Oh, Bruce. You dumb son of a bitch.