Alfred: Chapter 21

"How was my performance?" Clark chuckled. It had been two nights since Batman's appearance at the celebration. Yesterday Bruce had taken the day off to show Clark around the city, leaving Dick to his training, Lucius to his forge, and Alfred to himself. While Lucius was still wary of this new stranger, Alfred was glad that Bruce was deciding to trust Clark. Bruce had told Alfred last night that he had shown him the city walls, the bay, the edge of the Narrows, the abandoned inn where he had once nearly been caught, and Arkham Asylum. To Lucius it seemed completely bizarre for Bruce to trust a stranger in such a way, but to Alfred it made more than enough sense.

Clark is in league with the high order of honorable, good men that his father and Lord Eddard belonged to. Bruce can place faith in this man because Clark is of the same blood of those who inspire him. Alfred was hesitant to hope that this stranger might widen Bruce's gaze from something other than the cave, but he had an unquenchable flame of hope all the same.

This had been the first time Alfred was alone with the man since his arrival. Clark's hair was shorter now, swept back aside save for a few curved strands across his forehead. His beard was gone from his face, leaving a smooth jaw and slightly dimpled chin in its place. He was thicker with muscle than Bruce, but they doubted any of the smallfolk would be able to discern such a detail from the street so long as Clark stayed to the rooftops. Now that the Lord of Gotham and the Batman had both been publicly seen in tandem, Bruce hoped that would quell the flames Nigma and the City Watch were fanning around his feet.

The muscled chest plate barely fit Clark's broader chest. The helmet had been specifically forged for Bruce, so it awkwardly curved into Clark's squarer jaw and fit tightly to his scalp, giving his head a terrible ache for the rest of the night. His hair was shorter than Bruce's and less thick, so in the least his head probably remained cooler.

"Simply riveting Master Kent," Alfred replied.

Clark chuckled, "Call me Clark, Alfred. I'm a farmer, not a noble." Alfred allowed himself a small smile, "Very well Clark, I must thank you for the way you helped Master Bruce. The suspicion surrounding him had grown thicker over the months and this should hopefully kill the flames so to speak."

"Yes, wouldn't want Bruce to burn his skin after earning such a pale complexion in his cave now would we?" Clark jested.

"I know his ways are strange, but his heart is in the right place."

Clark's brow raised. "His heart seems more set on punishing and scaring criminals than it is to help anyone."

"Yes, his tactics are prone to incite fear and awe, but he works in his own way to save this city," Alfred continued. A smile garnered on his face as he remembered the times when a young boy would charge into his room begging to be read a story.

Clark's face grew darker. "It is more than just this city that needs him, Alfred. I have heard the tales of how Westoros fairs. A Hand of the King lies dead, rumored to have been murdered, and now another is injured at the hand of the Kingslayer. The King does as he likes, with little regard to his kingdom or people. The next in line, Joffrey, is a terrible little monster of a boy."

Alfred thought back to the night past, when Bruce had learned of Jaime Lannister's assault on Ned and Catelyn's abduction of Tyrion. It pained Alfred to deliver the raven's message, but it must be done.

"I'm leaving in the morning. I'll track down that coward of a knight and drag him back to Ned on a platter. Damned Kingsguard and yet he runs around without a care in the world, well we'll see how he acts once Batman has beat him to his life's edge. Alfred, prepare some bags," Bruce had shouted angrily in rapid succession. He slammed his fist into the table, leaving a small dent in the strong wood. Afterwards, as Alfred tended to his lord's hand, Clark volunteered to undertake the journey.

"I could go. I have no city to look after, no one even knows I exist. I'd be like a shadow walking into a city full of them, no one would turn their head. Should Batman or Lord Wayne just appear in King's Landing, the whole of the seven kingdoms would react in fear," Clark suggested.

Bruce thought a moment, "You have a point, but what could you do? You couldn't get close to him."

Clark remained silent for he had no further ideas on the matter either. Then Alfred chose to speak up. "Perhaps, Master Bruce, Clark could pose as a guard willing to be hired? And once in Ned's presence could reveal his true intentions, and request to be with him at all times? Surely no man would be successful in attacking Ned with a man of steel acting as his shield."

"Yes, that will do quite well. And when you're there you should speak with Ned about your purposelessness. A man with honor such as him, he would prove far more valuable with wisdom and assistance than I," Bruce concluded.

Alfred blinked and returned to the present. "As I recall Master Kent, you were the one that said this city needed him more than Lord Eddard in King's Landing."

Clark shook his head. "Not what I meant. This matter I can assist in, but some require his, special, talents. If he were in King's Landing now instead of fighting his own personal war of vengeance here, he could have solved Jon Arryn's death by now. Rather than just fighting so desperately to keep peace such as Ned has been striving for, Bruce could have solved the entire conspiracy and true peace could settle in."

So young, so hopeful, and true. If Bruce were in the capitol, he could have solved the murder with ease. But what am I to do? He will not abandon this city, and so I must stay. "Then you must go in Bruce's stead. The kingdom has abandoned his city, his parent's city, and I doubt anything could convince him to follow suit. Bruce has been told by countless men what he should or should not do, but in the end he always decides on what he feels Gotham needs him to do. If the time should come when Gotham needs him to protect the realm more so than itself, than Bruce will step into action like an army in and of himself."

Clark sighed, "I just fear what should happen should that moment come too late."

As they walked through the main doors out into the courtyard, Alfred nodded. "As do I."

They were greeted with Dick who hurriedly ran up to Alfred, clutching at the corners of his tunic. "Alfie! Alfie! He's flying! Nightwing's flying!"

As Alfred and Clark gazed up into the sky, Dick's words proved true. The hawk was riding the winds above them. Ducking and diving and dipping through the tumultuous currents of air that rode up from the bay below. But Alfred took more joy from the expression on the excited boy's face than a bird finding its wings again. Dick's face glowed in a way that trumped even when Bruce first agreed to train him.

"That is a beautiful bird, son. How long have you been trying to help him fly?" Clark remarked.

"Months now, I was beginning to lose hope he ever would," Dick replied, never letting his eyes drop from his bird flying above him.

Clark put a hand on his shoulder. "You should never lose hope, Dick. For those that weather any storms that come their way, their faith will always be rewarded. As my father said, any man can earn his right to fly amongst the stars, " he finished as he stole a look over at Alfred. I hope you're right Master Kent, by the Seven I hope you're right.

James: Chapter 23

"Alright lad, if nothing else you have an appetite," James commented as the boy downed his fourth chicken leg. The boy had only been in his custody for five days and already he had seemingly added some meat back onto his thin bones. His face was fuller now, his arms less like sticks. The scrawny, starving boy had more energy and fight back in him. Jason glared back up at James, as he usually did.

"Yeah, and if you unlock the door I'll show you how much else besides an appetite I got," he retorted.

James sighed. "We've gone over this son, I'm not here to fight you. I'm trying to help you." Jason snorted and tossed the leg bone against the bars of his cell. With a small clang it rebounded and fell to the floor. "Some help. You really wann' help leave the door open when you go home for the night."

"I am helping you. Giving you more than any of those gangs out there would, or whoever tried raising you."

The boy cackled. "My parents are both dead. Dad by some dead beat thugs, dear old ma from some damn potion or whatever that she was addicted to. Across the narrow sea I hear they use it to make the slaves for the fighting pits feel light in the head so they don't fear throwing their lives away. Heh, guess ma liked the feelin'."

James sighed once more and rubbed his brow in frustration. There was no way to get through to the boy. He couldn't hold him long, not at the rate that criminals were being arrested, every cell was needed. James had only one option. "I know you've had it hard lad, I-"

Jason laughed and interrupted, "Oh we all have heard about your rough life, Ser. I might just fall over on my sword were my wife and kid to leave me."

The weathered, tired knight looked past the insult and continued, "Losing your kin is hard, whether alive or dead. Were I to let you go, you'd just end up in some abandoned old alley dead somewhere. There's a man from the Night's Watch on his way down to King's Landing. I'm shipping you and twelve other lads out to join him. The Wall is a good place for a boy lost in the world. It'll give you a sense of direction, a purpose beyond stealing for food and scraps."

The boy laughed mockingly again. "Don't know what to do with me so you send me up there eh? Freeze my balls off for the good of the realm. Ha, my ass. What say I don't get a choice in all this? The Wall's for killers and rapers, not a boy of eleven whose never drawn another's blood before."

"We've got you on five charges of theft, one for attempted, and I'd bet good coin that you've dipped your fingers into the crime pool before. This'll do you good lad, get you out of this forsaken hole and get you doing something that helps this kingdom," James tried to reason once more.

Jason shrugged and returned to his cot. He laid down and wrapped himself up under the blanket that James had given him. James stood and moved to the door. As he laid a hand on the brass handle he heard a muffled reply from the boy. "Lucky number thirteen eh? Well if I don't have any choice, might as well go along for the ride. Night, Gordon."

"Goodnight lad," James replied as he blew out the candle on the desk and closed the door. Probably figuring to escape on the journey to King's Landing, poor lad…

James walked through his keep, nodding to his men or passing them with their backs turned. All of them showed exhaustion and stress. It wasn't just his men that were strained, the entire city seemed on edge. Ever since word had come that Tyrion Lannister had been kidnapped by Catelyn Stark, which resulted in the Kingslayer attacking Lord Eddard Stark, Gotham, along with the entire kingdom, were in a silent and eerie calmness. It was the calm before the storm, or so James' father would say. The moment when the waters quell, the winds die down, the clouds part, and that one shimmering ray of light shines down from the heavens only to be ripped away when the storm returns in force.

He had heard the word from both his men's lips and those on the street. War was brewing, one that could very well gut the kingdom should it not be kept in check. Tywin Lannister would not suffer such a slight to the honor of his house and would surely move to defend it. Many hoped he would do so with pen and paper, but James knew Tywin would reply with sword and steel. Then the North would call up arms as a precaution, and if things were not settled soon enough, war between the North and the Lannisters would begin. Should the Tyrells join either side, that will assure victory.

Eddard was assuredly alive in the message from King's Landing, but the Kingslayer had fled. He'll join up with his loving father, and together they'll threaten to burn the North to the ground. However many men the North could gather, none would be skilled enough to take a swordsman like Jaime Lannister down in combat. What am I doing? War is nowhere to be seen. So long as the Imp's alive and Eddard as well then there will be no cause for war. You're just an old soldier too sunk in his ways to give them up, James reminded himself.

As James strode up the stairs to his chambers, Sarah fell in line with him. "So what's your lord's lot in this?" James asked.

Sarah chuckled, "James, you know Lord Tyrell doesn't move anywhere or do anything until he sees a clear victor in sight and Lady Olenna pats his head and says 'Go on my boy, go play war'. That is to say if there even is a war. So long as Lady Stark returns the little nuisance alive and unharmed and Jaime returns to King's Landing to get his slap on the wrist all will be well in the kingdom."

James smiled. Hopefully that's all this will boil down too. Gotham was technically under the long arm of the Reach, and the Waynes bent the knee to Lord Tyrell, but with their lack of support to Gotham when Tywin came, James was hard pinned to guess where allegiances would be drawn if war truly did erupt.

Selina: Chapter 18

"Get the bitch!" One of the thugs shouted.

"Come and get it boys," Selina chided. A crack of her whip against one of their skulls, a knee to two groins, and a heel to the chin was enough to put them down. She walked over their bodies in triumph as they lay upon the ground as she continued on her way. A sack of sapphires bounced on her hip with each step. Her latest conquest of the night was a gift from the dusty old Dent estate. Ever since their son moved to King's Landing, and the father passed, a sniveling coward of a cousin stood as guardian of the small castle. Gotham has a way with scaring rich noblemans' sons away.

As Selina stepped through the abandoned alleyway adjoining the rundown inn, Crow's Wing, with a burned down shell of a seamstress' stead at the edge of the Narrows she heard a voice call out from above.

"Well done," the mysterious voice shouted. Too cheerful to be Batman, not the same pitch as Traveler's, who…? She turned and gazed up at the rooftop above her. She couldn't discern much from the darkness as it was a gloomy night with the sky blotted out by clouds, but she could see the slightest whisper of movement. Whether it was the fluttering edge of a cape or strands of hair being buffeted in the wind she could not say. Then, she heard the thud of boots against stone, the stranger had joined her upon the street.

"I have enough strange visitors as it is, I don't think I could survive many more," Selina quipped to the shadows before her.

The figure did not leave the shadows, only replied in the same monotone voice, "A cat has nine lives I am told."

Selina allowed herself a small grin at the witty response. Her hand moved to her whip at her belt. "Be wary stranger, this cat has a particular taste for drawing blood."

She saw the familiar glimmer of steel as it was drawn from its sheath. The blade slowly entered the light cast from the single torch against the wall as the stranger emerged from the shadows. His blade was drawn up from at his front, pointing directly at Selina as his body turned to its side behind it. He wore light leather armor decorated in blunted metal studs. A pale green jerkin lay underneath that with gray breeches covering his legs. He had a blunted nose, bald head, and sharp, piercing eyes. His features were cast in shadows as he slowly pushed through the shadows towards her.

Selina readied her whips and crouched. "You'll regret this stranger." She brought her arm about in a blur and sent the whip's tip flying for her assailant's head. He ducked with ease and continued his steady advance. She brought the whip back around once, twice, and thrice more times, each one missing their target. Finally, he was but six paces from her as he jerked forward, the blade stabbing at her gut. She rolled out of the way and wrapped the end of her whip around his leg and pulled. He crashed to the floor but within moments had returned to his feet. A smirk grew on his face as she pushed forward with a quick flurry of whippings. They danced in the torchlight, reflecting off of his bald head and swirling blade.

As he thrust forward again she leapt to the side to perch on a barrel only for it to give way under her weight and crack open. Its contents of oil burst forth in a small flood and coated the street. She crashed face first into the oiled stone, dropping her whip into the muck as well. As she tried to stand, her foot lost its way and she ended up back on the street on her rear. The whole while the stranger stood at the pool's edge and waited. Well at least he is a gentleman of an attacker.

Selina's eyes fell on the torch anchored to the wall to her left. Her hand darted for her whip and before the stranger could move the whip's edge flicked through the flame and was set afire. She whirled the flaming, dancing serpent in her hand with great ease making loops and slashes all around her. The tip touched the pool of oil once or twice and turned the street behind her into a wall of fire. As she focused in on her mysterious attacker, she finally saw the white of his eyes, and they were wide with fear.

The stranger stepped backwards hurriedly, cowering away from the flames. Anytime her whip licked the street near his feet, he would dance away in terror. She smiled in victory. "Not scared of little old me but pissing your breeches at the sight of mere fire? What sort of assailant are you?"

He raised a hand as he yielded. Selina let the flaming whip stay dormant in her hand as she waited for him to speak. "A girl has courage," was all he said.

"I'm no girl, you pathetic fool. Why attack me if you're so quick to forfeit? Did you think taking these gems would be so easy?" She shook her hips seductively at the stranger to make the pouch of sapphires jingle as the stones chimed off one another.

The man smiled, "A man has no intentions of becoming a thief. A man only wished to set eyes upon this mysterious cat for himself."

"Well I would say you've had your eye's fill, now leave," she threatened with another crack of her whip against the street stone.

He shook his head. "A man cannot leave yet, Selina Kyle. First, there must be the message delivered."

Selina cocked her head. "How do you know my name?"

"A man knows many things. Of your departed sweet sister, Holly. Of your mother and father, the way he would tell you his stories, the way she smelled of lilacs on warm summer afternoons. A man can tell you of your many nights beneath a sweaty man all for the sake of gold and silver. Of your interest in both Bruce Wayne, and the knight of shadows."

Selina couldn't believe what she was hearing. He knows more of me than Batman or Wayne together…how? "Do I know you? What's your name?"

"A man has many names, many faces. What should it matter to you sweet girl, should you know it?"

She smirked, "It would help me sleep at night."

He chuckled, "This is not what keeps you up at night, Selina Kyle. You wonder of life, whether yours has been lived for naught. Whether Holly felt pain when the blade kissed her, whether that night will be your last running across the rooftops, but mostly, sweet girl, your mind has the knight burning in it."

"You're referring to Batman?"

"The knight of shadows, yes. Most perplexing, a man born of fire, living in shadows. A man would have words with him, but now is not the proper time. A man must deliver his message," the nameless stranger continued.

"I see, and would this be your message, or another's? And why are you unable to deliver it?"

"My god's message, and he requires this one to attend to another little girl whose eyes burn bright with courage," he finished.

"Ahh, so you're one of those folk. One of the crazed worshipers of R'hallor, or do you cling to those dusty old Northern gods? And why are you delivering this message to me, and not him?" He's but a madman, and we surely have enough of those in Gotham.

"The Dark Knight is crucial to his plans. The darkness is coming, slowly but surely, spreading its terrorizing fingers throughout Westoros. Soon, its fingertips will be at Gotham's Gates, and the Dark Knight must survive. You have been seen in the flames, Selina Kyle. Protect him, watch over him, this is your mission under god's direction."

Selina laughed, "Me? Protect him? Tell your god that he has his roles muddled. I'm the thief, he's the protector. Whether he lives or dies is unimportant to me. Now tell me your name."

The stranger smiled and began backing into the shadows from whence he came. Before his face ducked out of the light, his eyes closed and he bowed. "A man has many names." He continued his backstepping until he was fully delved into the shadows.

"I see, and what are you known by currently?"

The stranger then took two steps forward back into the light. Now his features had changed, his cheek and nose had pointed. His scalp was no longer bald, coated in hair that reached down to his shoulders. One half was a pale red, the other milky white. A gleaming smile touched his lips.

"You are smart, sweet girl. I can now see why you mean so much to him. Very well, this man's name is J'onn J'onzz. Goodbye, Selina Kyle." With that, the stranger returned to the shadows. Then, a sight appeared that made Selina's spine grow cold and freeze. Two red eyes stared back at her from the shadows, glowing like cooling embers.

Selina stepped forward within moments after his eyes closed, and cracked her flaming whip into the darkness to see upon the stranger once more. All she was greeted with was an empty street. She shook her head in disbelief and gazed around the alley. Perhaps I should take a night off, and rest my head.

Author's note: I'm glad people are enjoying the story! As always, I love hearing opinions and reviews on the story and will always try to respond! I know things like including Superman or making Jaqen into Martian Manhunter might be a little rocky for some but I DO have a plan for where everything is going! After two more uploads I'm going to be taking a hiatus from uploading for a few weeks just as a head's up!