[Two Days Later]
The rich smell of gooey chocolate and soft dough filled the kitchen when Dick came down that afternoon. He had just finished his math studies and a grumbling stomach herded him toward the delicious smell.
"Ah, there you are Master Grayson. May I interest you in some chocolate delights?" Alfred asked offering him a plate.
Dick nodded also accepting a cold glass of milk. "Thank you."
"How are your studies going?" Alfred asked slipping into a seat at the counter next to him.
"Fine, sir."
"Are you enjoying them?"
"Yes."
Alfred studied the small boy. He had been quiet today more than usual. He decided to prod him.
"Is there something on your mind, young master?"
Dick paused his cookie halfway to his mouth. He set it down and stared at his plate. "I want to go to school."
Alfred raised a brow surprised at the sudden request.
"Really? Well, I am sure Master Wayne would approve. You should ask him tonight."
Dick nodded. "Alright."
Alfred glanced at his adopted grandson. Something else was clearly bothering the kid, but he didn't want to press him too much. He knew Dick would open up when he was ready. For now, he was content to remain by his side watching him adjust to his new life.
"How about we take a-" Alfred was cut off when the doorbell rang. He paused looking up with a frown. "Hmm, I don't remember any deliveries for today."
Alfred got up and grabbed a tablet off the counter. Pulling up their front door security cameras, he saw a woman wearing a beige uniform and a matching cap that read GDS-Gotham Delivery Services. Switching to another camera he spotted a single white delivery van parked outside on the driveway.
"Is everything alright?" Dick asked watching his movements.
"Yes, it's fine. I'll just be one moment." Alfred set the tablet down heading toward the front door.
Dick glanced over at it, noticing a sudden red-light flashing. Curious he tapped the icon which brought up thermal imaging. A large splash of red and orange covered the screen. Though he wasn't experienced in tech, he knew what it meant. His eyes widened. "Alfred! Wait-!"
Dick didn't remember much after that. A deafening boom shook the floor and the next thing he knew Alfred was dragging him away from the kitchen into the hallway. The room was beginning to fill with black smoke. It smelled acrid and thick plumes rolled toward them. He coughed hard trying to shake the ringing from his ears.
Glancing up he saw Alfred swipe a phone from a drawer in the hallway. After a few seconds, his hearing returned to pick up Alfred yelling at him to get to the safe room. The Batcave. But Dick was so confused. He stumbled to his feet when suddenly he bumped into the back of Alfred who had stopped in the middle of the hallway. Why did he stop?
Dick peeked around him to see a figure clothed in all black leather and a black hood in front of them. What? How did someone get inside? Dick tried to think back if there had been anything amiss that morning, but he couldn't place anything. How was this happening? Why hadn't their alarms gone off? Wasn't this supposed to be impenetrable?
He froze seeing the weapon in the figure's hand. He'd never seen one up close as Bruce only had taught him hand-to-hand combat so far. Before Dick could think further, Alfred threw the phone in his hand at the figure's head before pouncing on him like an agile feline. Dick had never seen the man move so fast in his life. One moment he was in front of him, the next Alfred had him immobilized, the weapon in hand now tossed to the ground.
"Go!" Alfred yelled, the fierce look in his eyes snapping Dick out of his frozen stance. "I'm right behind you," He heard the butler respond.
He forced himself to move scrambling around the corner of the hallway socks sliding on the polished wood floors. Almost there. He aimed for the back office where a secret panel hid a small opening to access the Cave. Small enough to crawl into a hidden elevator that would take them down to safety. Just as his feet hit the soft brown carpet, another explosion rocked the ground throwing him through the door. He tried to roll left to soften his fall but misjudged it and slammed into the hard oak desk. He felt a cracking noise as pain shot up his right shoulder. He ignored it more worried about the events unfolding behind him. He paused spotting the black button under the desk that would open the hidden case. He whipped his head back hoping to see Alfred come running through the door, but after several seconds there was nothing.
He coughed blinking back watery eyes from the dark smoke that now billowed into the room. He waited, straining his ears to hear any kind of footsteps. Dick had an ugly feeling in his gut. He stared at the button knowing safety was just inches away, but he couldn't leave Alfred in danger. If anything happened to the beloved butler, Mr. Wayne would never forgive him.
I'm sorry, Alfred.
Dick grabbed the first thing he saw on the desk and lowered himself to the ground. His right shoulder ached, but that wasn't important. He had to find Alfred. Sucking in a breath, he steadied his nerves and darted out into the hallway. Hazy smoke floated around him as he crept back towards the kitchen. Not knowing who waited for him around the corner, he advanced slowly. He stilled hearing muted voices up ahead. It sounded like it was coming from the living room.
Where is he? A deep gruff voice snarled.
Dick paused and peeked around the corner. No one was there. Further up ahead, the hallway would split giving access to the kitchen and the living room. Dick had no way of seeing the intruders except they wouldn't be expecting anyone coming their way assuming he had fled to safety.
Dick paused. He? Were they looking for him? He thought no one knew of his residency here, but he wouldn't be surprised if something leaked out.
"I'm afraid the Master is out."
Ah. Master. They were looking for Mr. Wayne. Dick crept closer staying low to the ground. He had no idea how many of the unwanted guests roamed their house. He assumed the worst-case scenario that they were outnumbered by at least four or five intruders. Coming up to the corner of the solid wall he stopped. He knew he had only a few seconds to grab as much information as possible before being discovered. This was no drill. Adrenaline coursed through him as his pulse roared through his ears. He closed his eyes trying to remember everything that Mr. Wayne had taught him in their security lessons. Don't let the fear and adrenaline get you. You must control it or you will be at a disadvantage. The first step to winning a battle is not through strength or weapons, but through knowledge. KAD. Knowledge, assess, and disable. Know Your Enemy.
Only Dick was just a small kid, and he could tell his brain was fighting the rising fear and panic. Those same feelings of being hunted where the hairs on the back of your neck rose and chills ran down your spine. No! Not again. You can do this. For Alfred. For Master Wayne. He swallowed forcing his mind to concentrate on the task before him. He slowly peered out from the wall to see three figures in black standing with their backs to him. In front of them sat Alfred strapped down upon one of their kitchen chairs. Dick took in his form. He clearly had tried to fight back as multiple bruises were beginning to form on his face. Someone had knocked him on the head as well as he could see fresh blood near his left ear and temple. Concussion too most likely. Switching from Alfred he turned his attention to the three figures. They were all men ranging in size from one-hundred and eighty to two-hundred and fifty pounds. Dick would not be able to take on any of them through a direct assault. It would be suicide.
None of them wore any jackets or had pockets on them either. That was good. Meant they most likely just carried large weapons. A few seconds later he spotted them resting against their dark leather couch, their black forms like deadly stalagmites rising from the floor. Assault rifles, but not just any. Dick knew what kind they were the moment he saw it in the hand of the man in the hallway. They were known as Black Ghost Rifles. Silent, accurate, and deadly. He had found a book on weaponry in Mr. Wayne's library and tucked in the back of it were several pages of notes regarding unusual weapons found in Gotham. It made sense now knowing Mr. Wayne's second identity. For a second, he thought about lunging for one, but he had no idea how to operate it, and even if he managed to grab one and take a shot, he doubted he'd have enough reaction time before he would be taken to the ground.
Dick racked his brain. Something was off. Then it clicked. Where was the woman? Three men in front, one unaccounted for at least. There had to be more. An explosion that big usually meant many hands, but perhaps the intruders were going for maximum damage. Smoke still lingered about but the alarms had been silenced almost immediately. That meant someone had gotten into their alert system. Dick prayed the silent alarms worked and help was on the way.
A thud of several boots coming down the stairs accompanied by several grunts and curses. Then a female voice rang out.
"Upper levels are cleared. However, the target was not found."
Dick did not like the sound of that. He cautiously peeked around the corner to see two more men and the woman.
Her delivery outfit was gone now replaced by a black and dark red uniform. She marched over to Alfred and to Dick's horror held up an object.
It was his pajamas. Well now his existence was undeniable.
"Where is he? We will rip this place apart to find him," the female snarled.
Alfred just stared at her. "He's at school where most kids are this time of day."
The woman paused as if uncertain. The man next to her shook his head. He then shoved a tablet in front of Alfred.
"Wrong. There were two heat signatures here before we hit the place. Quit lying old man. Final chance, where is the kid?"
Dick knew Alfred would rather give himself up than expose an innocent civilian. But Alfred was innocent too. Mr. Wayne, where are you?
"Funny, I don't remember kids being on today's menu."
Despite the severity of the situation, Dick had to smile at Alfred's attempt at humor. Poor man was trying to protect him and he'd find a way to smile through the pain.
A sharp snapping noise made Dick suck in a breath. He watched as a heavy hand slugged its way across Alfred's face. Blood splattered the carpet and Dick looked away. A familiar fear crept back into his stomach. Alfred could die. Just like Dick's parents.
No. I can't let that happen. Not again. Dick laid a trembling hand against the wall and tried to steady his nerves. It wasn't working. A thought crossed his mind.
What would Batman do?
Well, the goons would already be on the floor lights out. Dick shook his head. He wasn't Batman but he had to think like him. He lacked any sort of weapon, but perhaps he could cause a distraction.
He turned around and crept into the still smoldering kitchen. The front half of it was completely destroyed as their kitchen table was blackened rubble. However, the back half was intact. Good. Everything he needed was there.
Confident he had a few precious seconds he grabbed what he could. That being the leftovers of last week's science experiment which had been stored in the drawers of the island thankfully untouched by the explosion. Who knew science just might save lives today?
Dick pulled out five white tubes that looked like popsicles. They were sugar rockets. A fun homemade experiment made of sugar. Powdered sugar to be exact. Combined with potassium nitrate which was found in some simple household goods. Could they cause damage? Unlikely. Would they divert attention? Absolutely.
The sugar rockets were complete. All they needed was some fuel. Never underestimate the power of a tiny package.
Dick grabbed a bottle of cooking oil underneath a cabinet and doused the rockets in them.
Now he understood why recipes always warned to watch the sugar when cooking. It's highly flammable. Working quickly he wrapped the rockets in a paper napkin and quickly put everything away.
Apologies for the mess would have to wait. Lives were at stake.
Dick carefully shuffled back to the office. He slid open a lower window and crept around toward the front of the house. Though high hedges lined the Wayne Mansion there were few trees and bushes on the actual lawn. For once Dick wished he had more tree cover.
He glanced at the damage and from what he could see, the front of the building that held the main kitchen, dining room, and front entryway lay in rubble. Mr. Wayne was not going to be happy and Batman would be furious.
Dick shook his head and refocused. To his right about 20 yards away lay the intruder's white van. From his point of view, no one was around it and the front window was rolled down. He saw no one in the driver's seat. What a lucky break. Dick hoped that inside the house the crooks were all together knowing what was about to happen next would draw their attention.
His issue was getting across the green quickly without being seen. Today of course decided to be bright and sunny when he really could have used some cloud cover. It didn't matter in the end because Alfred was counting on him. So here goes nothing.
He sucked in a breath and ran with all his might across the green. He half expected bullets to be flying over his head but in less than a minute he came to a sliding stop by the front right tire and not a single shot had rung out.
He hissed at his sore shoulder that had bumped against the ground. It didn't feel broken but definitely sprained. He waited for movement but when none came he got to work.
Dick didn't have enough time to evaluate the truck, but he knew where weak points were so he stuffed three rockets into the engine compartment thankful that the truck had rusty holes. The fourth he put in the driver's seat and the fifth into the cigarette lighter.
The next part was crucial. He pulled out what he had grabbed on Mr. Wayne's desk.
It was a paperweight. A solid black and gold edged rock. This was his signal; evidence of his handiwork. Placing the heavy paperweight next to the rubber tire, he then took out his last two items. The truck was off and starting it would draw unnecessary attention. Plan B it was. Taking a sharp paring knife he swiped from the kitchen he wiggled under the truck and found the fuel line. Holding the hose away from him, he sliced it open and watched the black sludge come out until it dripped slowly.
He dragged himself back out, tucking the knife away in his pocket. The last item lay in the green grass, its red handle glinting in the sun.
The lighter.
A tiny spark of hope that hopefully ignited a rescue or at least served a purpose in becoming a distraction.
Dick swallowed. Alfred needed help. But Dick only had one shot. If he failed, they were both doomed.
He squeezed the handle and watched the orange flame unfurl its deadly aura.
He flung the lighter under the truck and ran for his life.
Dick crashed into the bushes but didn't stop. Time was running out. Just as he crept back into the office via the window, a deafening boom rang out, shaking the room sending books tumbling to the ground.
By now shouts of anger and confusion filled the hallways as their captors realized something was amiss. They ran for their guns as a high pitched whistle followed by a loud pop permeated the atmosphere. The sugar rockets were being ignited.
Dick raced through the hallway knowing he had but mere moments before the enemy discovered they had been tricked and there were no reinforcements.
He turned the corner to see a surprised Alfred. The poor butler had been through the wringer. Dick raised a finger to his lips and Alfred nodded understanding the signal. Another whistle and pop could be heard. Three rockets left.
Taking out the paring knife he sliced through the bindings and pulled Alfred to his feet. He could see the concern and fear in his eyes.
Dick flicked his head toward the office when Alfred shoved him out of the way. Dick tumbled to the floor to see his butler tackle something to the ground.
Another explosion. Two rockets left. Two minutes before the diversion was up.
A loud scuffle was heard before silence ensued and Alfred stood up.
Dick ran to him and grabbed his hand. He looked up to see an expression he'd never seen before. Alfred very rarely got angry, maybe frustrated or concerned but this was different. Vulnerable Alfred was gone. What stood in its place was a seasoned veteran who'd seen death and destruction. A set jaw and cold eyes that glinted with a smoldering rage.
Dick glanced down at the body and realized it didn't move. It didn't breathe either.
The young kid gulped. Alfred had crossed that line. Bruce's line. Batman's line. The line between life and death. Once crossed one could never go back. The butler didn't even seem fazed. Perhaps it was the adrenaline. No. Though the shadows hid it, the body showed damage. Necks do not bend that direction. Alfred was a killer. Swift and deadly.
Dick didn't breathe. The room began to sway and a hard squeeze of his hand re-grounded him. Alfred still showed comfort despite their predicament.
"Move." The older man commanded like a drill sergeant.
Dick could see white smoke billowing from the truck as several shots rang out.
Another whistle and pop. One minute remaining.
Alfred crept forward and froze suddenly. Dick didn't hear it, but Alfred did. Years of stealth work at MI6 still ingrained itself into his muscles. A secret he had hoped to keep under wraps, but henceforth was exposed today.
The footsteps of a predator. Soft but not quite silent. Alfred whirled around but he was too late. A whoosh of released pressure and two bullets sliced through the air. Silent killers.
Alfred's grasp slipped through Dick's hand. The horrified scream of a child and the thud of a body hitting the floor. A second loud whistle and loud pop shattered the air. Time was up.
Dick tried to save Alfred and he failed. A prick of pain hit the child's neck before a black bag slipped over his head. The kid slumped to the floor.
Click, click, click. The sharp rap of high heels rang out across the wooden floor boards. The woman scooped up the child, holstered her gun and kicked the fallen man at her feet. No movement. She radioed ahead.
"Target secure. Proceed to evac 2. ETA 1 minute."
Billows of dust rose from the ground as a BNA helicopter hovered overhead.
"Leave Jewel behind. He's a ghost anyway."
The woman loaded the unconscious child into the helicopter with the rest of her team. Two minutes later, the bird was nothing but a black dot in the sky.
Six minutes later, emergency vehicles swarmed the still smoking estate grounds. Ten minutes later, Mr. Wayne's worst nightmare began.