Author's Note: It's time for Jason's POV to dominate proceedings for the time being. This instalment focuses on the twenty-four hour period covering Jason and Alfred preparing for the docks operation and Jason arriving at the docks itself. Next chapter will be all about kicking ass. Enjoy more Alfred and Jason.
Descent 4
I wake up to someone stroking my hair like I'm five. With Bruce still locked down in his own bed and Wayne Manor not being a hotspot for perverts and sex offenders, I can only assume it's Al continuing where he left off yesterday. The man is being really nice to me, now I've stopped freezing him out of what's running through my head. Normally I'd loathe someone being all touchy-feely with me like this, since I hate the smell of desperation, but because it's Al and the guy is anything but pathetic, I let him carry on for another twenty seconds. He's got technique down cold for soothing hot-heads like me.
"I think I've indulged myself enough, Master Jason. Thank you for the privilege." The man says respectfully.
"Well, before I do a reverse face-plant to get out of this pillow, is anything on display that probably shouldn't be for polite conversation?" I ask, knowing as a hardcore sleeping nudist, I lack any kind of shame or decorum when it comes to my assets. I hear him sigh.
"Seeing as your bedsheets currently only cover your left foot, I regret to say everything is available for public viewing. Would you like me to do the honours of sparing your blushes?"
"Am I not cute enough to get away with it anymore?" I ask with my face still mashed deep into the pillow. His response of wrangling the duvet from my foot and throwing it over me so that it emphatically covers everything below my shoulders tells me I'm too old for this to be anything approaching cute.
"Car crash victims would be cuter than you at this stage of your development, young man." That's harsh for first thing in the morning, but it's a good sign he's comfortable with me again. I smirk whilst finally dislodging my head from the mattress to look at him over my shoulder. No neckwear and a pair of latex gloves tells me I'm in for a prodding under the guise of a 'physical exam'. I open my mouth to protest what he's about to do, but get cut off before I can finish drawing breath. "You have not been properly examined since last month. If you're going to do this operation successfully, I need to check you're not carrying any injuries likely to compromise that outcome."
"Can I at least put some underwear on before you start playing doctor, Al? Unless you're after a cheap…"
"No, I am not after a 'cheap thrill', Master Jason, although I must admit to having seen it many times before." He interrupts whilst crossing to my dresser and retrieving a pair of boxers for me. He throws them in my face before I can reply with more smutty innuendo. I slip them on under the covers and then roll out of bed for him to direct me.
"How's Bruce?" I ask as the old man motions for me to sit in a chair he's strategically placed in the middle of the room. I sit and he lifts up my arm.
"He is recovering well. However, he will still not be in a fit enough state to oversee the operation this evening." Al says whilst manipulating my joints and asking me to say when I feel pain or discomfort. He flexes my fingers. Ow. He flexes my wrist. Ow. He flexes my elbow. Ow, Ow, Ow. He rotates my shoulder. Holy shit it burns.
"Yeah, it's good, Al." I tell him. He nods knowingly.
"I'll make sure you have enough anti-inflammatories to complete the mission."
"Thanks. My other arm's a lot better."
"We shall see."
My left arm is in better shape than my right, since it wasn't balancing a two hundred-and-ten pound superhero on it for the best part of a mile two nights ago. My back's stiff but both it and my knees are still strong. My neck's tender from where some gorilla tried to strangle me, but otherwise alright. Amazingly, despite head-butting a minimum of twenty people in escaping the mob, my skull isn't even slightly bruised. I might have pulled something near my groin and got a collage of cuts and bruises, but the damage is pretty superficial. And now I've had copious amounts of pain-killers and a decent sleep, I'm good to go all over again. Regardless, I get a grave frown from Al once everything's been checked out.
"You have new scar tissue on your left shoulder. And your right knee. And I'm almost certain this knife wound on your abdomen is only a few weeks old. Did you stitch it yourself?" The old man asks brushing his fingertips against my amateur patch job. I shrug.
"It was a slash, Al, not a stab wound. The guy barely got beneath my skin. It wasn't anything bad. It just hurt like hell."
"You should've let me treat it. The scar tissue is the product of a partially torn rotator cuff on your shoulder and a ballistic injury sustained to your patella. Again, you should've consulted me. I could have limited the damage to a much greater extent." Al tells me with more concern for my physical well-being in a minute than Bruce has shown me in about nine months. Because he's got a heart of gold, I give him a frank answer.
"I know I'm stupid, alright? But I just wanted to be alone. I wanted time to get my shit together and I couldn't do it with you around. Bruce either. Sometimes, it still gets to be too much for me and I need to vent. To do that, I can't be around people or I vent on them. And Bruce will tell you that's not pretty." The old man offers up a sad smile.
"I doubt I'll ever fully understand your pain, Master Jason, but I admire your attempts to conquer it. However, never be under the delusion you cannot seek help. I am always here for you."
"I'm not kissing you again, Al. So you can stop laying the sentiment on too thick. I'll probably puke if you go any further." I say with a grin whilst getting to my feet. The old man smiles too.
"Then forgive me for upsetting your delicate constitution when I say I have missed our inane conversations this past year. Verbally sparring with you is one of my life's greatest joys." He tells me with an openness I know is so rare in people that I've never seen it in another person other than Al. I roll my eyes and sigh.
"Fine, Al. You can hug me if you want." I say sticking my arms out to the sides and motioning him forward. I'm not surprised when he accepts my invitation and embraces me like I did to him yesterday.
"More indulgence? I am surprised." The old man remarks as we push away from each other in the aftermath.
"Well, it's either this or I punch you in the arm like normal guys do."
"Well then I must thank you for not channelling your inner caveman this morning. Shall we go for breakfast?"
The day goes quicker than I expected. Al makes me a protein and carb-heavy breakfast of six scrambled egg whites, four ounces of thin-sliced sirloin steak and a big-ass sweet potato. This is only because I spent most of the last week living off pop tarts and turkey twizzlers and the old man hates junk food crossing the threshold of anybody's mouth. After that, I take a cold shower to numb my body while the pain killers and anti-inflammatories kick in and then get fully dressed for the first time in six weeks. I sneak one smoke while Al is washing up and then another before he nags me to see Bruce about tonight's big operation as one in the afternoon closes in. I reluctantly drift up to his room and knock once.
"Come in."
I walk in and find the big man not in bed, not in his pyjamas and not sporting any attractive headwear. Instead of recovering in comfort as any normal guy with a head injury would, Bruce is dressed in a black sweatshirt, slate slacks and black shoes and hunched over the antique writing desk in the corner, writing a lot of notes. He's even gone to the trouble of shaving and styling his hair for this meeting, evading Al completely while going to and from the bathroom down the hall to accomplish this. He regards me in silence for a while before speaking.
"You're dressed."
"So are you, despite being a patient." I say leaning against the doorway and folding my arms. He turns to face me in the chair, crossing one leg over the other and steeping his hands together.
"You didn't return to see me yesterday after the morning's…events."
"No, I didn't."
"May I ask why?"
"Because I was pissed at you. I'm always pissed at you. You make me low. You make it out like I'm worse than the scum we go after, like I'm dirt." I tell him with a truckload of bitterness. He hits back with something just as cutting, but makes it worse by delivering it in the coolest tone of voice imaginable.
"You make the comparison too easy sometimes. In certain situations, your actions are beyond reckless." I bite my tongue to stop from tearing into him. If all people were represented as assholes, this guy would look like a crater on the moon, he's that big of a hole. I force a smile and wander closer.
"Well you'll be glad to know that drugged or not, I meant what I said yesterday. As soon as I hit the stratospheric heights of being eighteen years young, I'm a ghost in this place. Just run your mouth on what you need me to do tonight and I'll get right on it with Al." I see his eyes flicker at the mention of Al's name before he tries to boss proceedings again.
"I will also be monitoring…"
"No, you won't. Al says no cave duty for you until Monday at minimum. You cross him on it and you'll get the same treatment from him as you're getting from me right now. The guy's not your slave or your bitch and neither am I. You got it?" I tell him whilst jabbing a finger in his direction. He rises to his feet in a very deliberate and relaxed manner, before squaring up to me with a face like stone. I dare him to hit me, I fucking dare him to get physical.
"You must feel very powerful to address me like this." He says after a long silence. I wait for a follow-up. The big man nods. "That's good. I need you to be for tonight's operation. Evidence of Pedro's status as the real figurehead of the arms trafficking will be found by close interrogation of the dock foreman, Michael Harrison. To get to him will require a significant amount of surveillance and stealth. On my desk are schematics of the pier, likely numbers of opposition, weaponry and tactics used as well as a physical description of Harrison and his weaknesses as detailed by medical documentation. I expect you to study all these materials before zero hour this evening. By doing so, you will stand the best chance of succeeding. Understand?" I have to admit I blink first after that tsunami of verbal diarrhoea washes me and everything before it away.
"Where did you get all this intelligence? There isn't a computer terminal or electronic device in this entire room." I say checking the room to make sure I haven't missed a trick.
"All this information was revealed during our initial investigation on Halsee and Pedro's connection to him and Daytona. I committed the majority of that information to memory before organising it into useable intelligence. Due to the fact all data is drawn from memory, I can only assure the intelligence is 90% accurate. You may wish to cross-reference it using the computer in the cave before departing. I will…remain here until the conclusion of the operation…to keep Alfred sated. Please do not make me regret this decision." He answers before handing me the papers. I take them without any trouble. We lock eyes again. He thinks I'm afraid of responsibility, that I don't want to take the heat. I live in Hell itself and he thinks I can't handle a little heat? I smile at him.
"You regret every decision with me, whether I save the day or not. You regretted making me Robin and there's no need to change your default setting now, big guy. Even if I get every shred of information you want out of Harrison and we stick Pedro away for life in a maximum security prison tonight, you'll regret sending me out there. You always have. You can deny it all you like but I know you for who and what you are. I'll get what you want, but don't expect me to stand here after it's over and let you tear me apart. I'm done playing for an A grade from you. Later." I leave without looking back. Bruce doesn't try to stop me either. He lets me walk out the room and down the stairs before even bothering to close his door. Whatever.
"Are you alright, young man?" Al asks me when I'm suiting up in the cave eight hours later. Even after all the shit I've taken from the big man and despite my skin being thicker than the cave walls, what he said about me still hurt. I shrug it off while grabbing three smoke grenades and a handful of collapsible batarangs from the armoury to stuff in my utility belt. I nod at him.
"Why wouldn't I be? You're the man of my dreams on a mission like this, Al. I'm in vigilante heaven right now." I say with a smile I really hope puts him at ease. When he smiles, I've know I've managed to suck the tension out the room and bring the atmosphere back.
"You and I have very different views on what constitutes 'heaven', Master Jason. I shall monitor you via video feed and audio link as well as GPS tracking from the command centre. I have alerted Commissioner Gordon to our operation and he has permitted a one-hour window to obtain the information we desire before GCPD officers arrive at the pier. That hour began five minutes ago. Please get there as fast as possible." He informs me as I'm already mounting my bike, donning my mask and turning it in the direction of the exit ramp. I wink at him.
"Just watch the dot, Al. It's about to move really, really damn fast. Try to keep up."
Ten seconds later, I'm lost to the night.
It's game time.