Bruce barely heard Alfred's shocked gasp behind him, his eyes never leaving the computer screen. In particular, he couldn't take his eyes off the name.

The same name that he has disappointed several times.

Correspondence with Richard John Grayson: 95%

His gaze dropped slightly below, observing the smiling face of the seven-year-old Dick Grayson, his youthful features, his cheeks full of baby fat, his smile so bright and the way his blue eyes seemed to shine with their own light.

Ever since the death of the Flying Graysons and the disappearance of their only son, Bruce has literally dedicated every single day of his existence to trying to find the little acrobat.

All his attempts proved futile, however.

No matter how many times he turned the entire city upside down to desperately try to find at least one small clue, one trace, anything that would at least give him a direction. Every time the billionaire thought he had found something -and these occasions were few- it always turned out to be a dead end. He had always remained so obsessed with this case to the point that Alfred had to drug him to make him recover a few hours of sleep and this was still happening in recent times.

The only clue he had was the tall, slender mysterious figure wearing sunglasses and a dark suit who had immediately flanked the little orphan after the death of his parents.

One moment Bruce was busy talking to the policemen who had rushed to the crime scene.

The next when he discovered that both Dick and the mysterious man were missing.

And from that moment on, neither of them was ever seen again.

He knew that this man was responsible for the disappearance of the last Flying Grayson alive but unfortunately it was impossible to identify him and no one had the faintest idea who that guy was: not any of the madmen of Arkham Asylum nor the most dangerous mobsters in Gotham.

The police had closed the investigation a few weeks after the disappearance of the seven-year-old boy, leaving him for dead, which had completely disgusted and horrified Bruce at the crap that was inside the Gotham GCPD, excluding a few elements who unfortunately could do nothing.

Bruce was so desperate that he even asked the Justice League for help and Dick Grayson's case was the only case in his entire career in which he asked his teammates for help. Neither the most powerful heroes nor the most powerful magic nor the most advanced human nor Kryptonian, Amazonian, Thanagarian, Martian and Atlantean technology have been able to locate Dick or in any case find the slightest clue about him.

Never mind that years had passed since his disappearance and that the chances of finding Dick, especially alive, were practically at or below zero, Bruce dedicated at least a couple of hours every single day to trying to find something.

He owed it to Mary and John Grayson but above all to their son.

Bruce had only mentioned it once and exclusively to Alfred but he had intended to take Dick in after his parents' death. The tragedy that had struck the little acrobat mirrored the one that had struck the billionaire and which had marked the birth of the Dark Knight.

Bruce knew what Dick was going through and wanted to do his best to help him, no matter if it would probably end up making the situation worse since he was emotionally constipated and would rather do anything than talk about emotions.

He wanted to at least try to help the seven-year-old.

But he never had the chance.

And this contributed greatly to making Bruce Wayne sink into a darkness that consumed him every single day of his existence from which none of his friends were able to help him escape because, no matter how hard they tried, none of them were enough.

He felt himself drowning in the darkness that whispered softly in his ear to surrender, to let go once and for all.

Bruce was so tired of all the pain, disappointments, regrets that filled his life that he couldn't help but listen to the sweet whispers of the darkness that dragged him further and further down, reaching the point where he no longer cared whether he continued to live or not.

Countless times Batman would throw himself into fights hoping it would be the last one, no longer even bothering to dodge his opponents' attacks.

He recognized that he had become passively suicidal and didn't care at all: the only reason he was still alive was because of a mysterious figure who kept saving him every time he was dying.

And Bruce hated them, whoever they were, because they didn't let him go and didn't allow him to be lulled by those only moments where he could feel at peace.

That is, eternal darkness.

Dick had literally disappeared into thin air to the point that not even the best detective, the best technology and magic in existence and the entire Justice League in the world had been able to find him.

Until now.

Bruce couldn't believe what his eyes were showing him.

Renegade, the second best assassin in the world, the second most lethal and dangerous mercenary in the world, the former apprentice of Deathstroke The Terminator, elite member of the League of Assassins, the one who easily exterminated numerous mafias and terrorist organizations, who defeated the entire Justice League twice like it was a walk in the park, with more than 900 kills, the one who declared himself to be an anti-hero mercenary who only killed the scum human-

He was Dick Grayson.

All the times Batman had clashed with Renegade, both physically and verbally, flashed through his mind in seconds. A sour sensation formed in his mouth as he remembered that Renegade had indeed been killed by Klarion, albeit resurrected a few minutes later, and he felt the bile rising. He whirled around just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the waste bin.

The vigilante barely felt gentle hands rubbing his back the last time he had been touched so tenderly and sweetly was when he was a child as he continued to vomit.

Once he finished, countless questions flashed through his mind.

What had happened to Dick?

How did he become a meta-human?

How did he gain the ability to resurrect from any death in such a short time, the extremely fast and effective healing factor, and his other superhuman abilities?

How did he end up becoming the former apprentice and adopted son of the most dangerous mercenary in the world?

How and why did he become Renegade?

What hell did he have to go through?

How much did he suffer at the hands of his captors?

Did Deathstroke treat him well? Was he a good parent to him?

"I must reveal a very important fact, Master Bruce."

Bruce turned his chair around to give his trusted butler a tired, exhausted look. "What?" he croaked.

Alfred took a deep breath as he put his hands behind his back, staring at him with an indecipherable and stoic look. "I lied to you, sir. I am aware of the identity of the person who continues to save your life."

It was as if the final piece of a puzzle had fallen into place. "It's Renegade, right?" he realized in a weak whisper. At the nod of confirmation from his father figure, he felt a fierce anger painfully claw at his chest but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "You should have told me. Why did you keep this a secret from me?" he whispered in defeat, his voice cracking, showing his pain and betrayal.

Alfred looked at him with a sweet and sad look. "Because it was the only condition Renegade asked for. He has saved your life so many times that I felt obligated to respect his will. However, I promise I did not know his true civilian identity."

"Would you have told me? If Renegade had revealed to you that he was Dick Grayson and asked you to keep it a secret from me as the only condition for saving my life, would you have told me, Alfred?"

The older man's silence was the answer he needed.

Bruce let out a sigh, momentarily putting aside his feelings and the betrayal he felt from the person who raised him and who he thought of as a father.

"How long has this been going on?"

"His first rescue was about 4 years ago."

Dick was only 14 years old.

"Do you know why he kept saving my life?"

"Negative, sir." Alfred shook his head sadly. "However, I strongly suspect that he played a major role in causing most of the Gotham Rogues to retreat from their criminal activities."

"You might be right." Batman grunted, remembering the genuine respect, esteem and affection that most of his supervillains had towards the mercenary and that all of them, even those who didn't care about Renegade, would rather take a brutal beating from the Dark Knight than betray him because they were either deeply loyal to him or feared him to death. "The only supervillains left in business are the Joker, Scarecrow, Two-Face, Riddler and a few others. The rest of them have retired and are doing something completely different."

A heavy silence enveloped the two men, both lost in their own thoughts.

"What do you want to do in light of this new information, sir?"

Bruce glanced at the British butler and stared at him for a few seconds before turning away, bringing it back to the screen. His eyes fell on the young, pure and innocent figure of Dick Grayson, in clear contrast with the person he had become: ruthless, lethal and consumed by pain and the world.

In some ways Bruce and Dick were sides of the same coin.

Both had lost their parents and become orphans at too young an age. Both suffered deeply and were surrounded by heavy darkness.

While Bruce was completely swallowed in this darkness and was too weak to fight it, Dick used it to his advantage to become the person he wanted to be.

Which Bruce failed miserably at.

Now that he had the fuller picture -even if numerous pieces of the puzzle were still missing- the billionaire could understand why Renegade was what he was. Whatever happened to Dick and whatever hell he was forced to go through, it affected him so deeply and irreversibly that it was far worse than the loss of his parents to the point that it drove him to eliminate the worst scum in the world as an attempt to get revenge for whatever his captors had done and inflicted on him.

The thought of what he was forced to endure, especially at such a young, innocent and pure age, made his skin crawl.

Dick's kidnappers most likely injected him with that unknown substance that Bruce had never seen until now and it had become an integral part of his blood and, probably, his entire cardiovascular system.

That substance and his blood had become one and was almost certainly the reason for Dick's superhuman abilities, apparent immortality and unlimited resurrection included.

Bruce took a deep breath as he glanced at the older man. "I'll leave Renegade alone. I will make no further attempt to stop him." he admitted, not missing how Alfred's stiff muscles relaxed almost imperceptibly at his words, clearly relieved.

The billionaire barely heard the butler's response: suddenly it was as if a boulder had settled in his stomach, making it harder for him to breathe. His limbs became heavy and icy as a slow realization dawned on his mind.

What did I do?

His fingers tightened around the chair with a grip so tight he could have broken the object.

What the hell did I do?

"Master Bruce?"

"What have I done, Alfred?" he whispered in horror, looking up to look at the older man's worried gaze. "Waller used me. She exploited my obsession with Renegade to capture him and send him to an A.R.G.U.S. maximum security facility."

Alfred's gaze instantly became one of shock, horror and fear as the realization washed over him too.

"Because of me, Dick is now in the most dangerous prison in the world where only the worst criminals from around the world reside, the kind of scum that Renegade has always eliminated. They will break him, they will rape him, they will torture him."

Alfred clapped his hands over his mouth, gasping in horror and nausea. "Oh, my dear Lord!"

Bruce stood up abruptly, pushing his swivel chair backwards. "I have to go." he grunted as he went to get his Batman costume. "Send a message to the Justice League and call a critically important emergency meeting!" he shouted.

"Right away, sir." Alfred stated as he walked over to the computer and began typing rapidly.

And if while Bruce was wearing his Batman suit a lone tear crossed his face, well, no one witnessed it.