The soft chime of the elevator echoed faintly through the cavernous expanse of the Batcave, followed by the quiet hiss of its doors sliding open. Alfred Pennyworth stepped out with his usual poise, a tray balanced effortlessly in one hand. A steaming bowl of tomato bisque, its rich aroma cutting through the sterile chill of the Batcave, rested on the tray alongside a neatly folded napkin and a silver spoon.
The sharp clack of his polished oxfords on the stone floor reverberated through the vast chamber, blending with the hum of the Batcomputer's monitors and the distant drip of water from the stalactites above. He crossed the Batcave with the deliberate grace of a man who had spent decades mastering the art of quiet dignity, even in the presence of chaos.
Near the glowing monolith of the Batcomputer, Bruce Wayne sat hunched forward, his cowl pulled back to reveal furrowed brows and eyes locked on the shifting streams of data. Files flickered across the screens—mugshots, schematics, crime scene photos—but the Dark Knight remained motionless, a statue of determination.
Alfred came to a halt just behind him, setting the tray down on a small table with the faintest clink of porcelain.
"Master Bruce," he began, his tone gently admonishing, "one cannot wage war on crime without first tending to the battlefield of one's health. Eat."
Bruce glanced over his shoulder, his face shadowed and tired but touched with the faintest trace of gratitude. Without waiting for a reply, Alfred turned to leave, his duty as the silent guardian complete for the moment.
But before he could leave, Batman called out, "Wait, Alfred."
Alfred turned around. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Master Bruce?"
"Yes," Batman replied as he tapped on the keyboard. Suddenly, images of extraterrestrial beings popped up on the screen.
"Take a look at these pictures and tell me what you find," Batman instructed.
Alfred leaned forward, taking a closer look at the photos.
A towering, plant-like being with regenerative powers and the ability to control flames. One image showed him shielding a family from a raging inferno, his leafy arms outstretched as fire bloomed harmlessly from his body.
A crystalline alien with unbreakable armor and the power to forge diamond constructs. A photo depicted him erecting a glittering barricade to deflect debris from a collapsing building, his translucent form glowing in the chaos.
A sleek, manta ray-like creature, gliding effortlessly through the skies at breakneck speeds. One snapshot captured him mid-air, clutching a child in his talons as he dived away from a collapsing bridge.
A red-skinned giant with bulging muscles and four powerful limbs. A picture captured him lifting a crumpled school bus with ease, the awestruck faces of rescued children reflecting his strength and determination.
Alfred studied the photos before inquiring, "Are these aliens, sir?"
"Yes, Alfred," Batman confirmed before continuing, "For the past two months, numerous alien sightings have been reported around the city of Bellwood, and most reports describe these creatures helping ordinary citizens. Some people have even started calling them superheroes."
Alfred looked contemplative. "Aliens trying to help humans and being labeled heroes? Impressive, but not unusual around here. You should understand that, sir."
"I am aware of that, Alfred, but..."
Batman tapped on the keyboard, and the images on the screen zoomed in on a symbol. It featured a black circle with a green, hourglass-like shape in the middle. The hourglass symbol was symmetrical, with its top and bottom halves tapering towards the center.
Pointing at the symbol, Batman explained, "This symbol is present on all of them. A badge of some sort. At first, I thought they might belong to a new organization, but that didn't seem to be the case. Only one of them has been sighted at a time, in a single location. So, I started digging around, and then I found this."
As he spoke, a video began playing on the monitor.
It looked like surveillance footage of a back alley.
As the video played, a young teenager ran into the alleyway, looking around as if to check whether anyone was watching. Finding no one, he fiddled with his watch as a dial popped up. He slammed his hand against the watch, and with a green flash of light, the teenager disappeared. In his place stood a red-skinned giant with bulging muscles and four powerful limbs.
Batman played the footage backward, paused it just as the teenager was about to slam his hand against his watch, and zoomed in on his face. As the footage cleared, the teenager's face became visible.
"This is Ben Tennyson, age sixteen, a junior in high school. His records show he was completely ordinary up until two months ago," Batman revealed.
Then, pointing at the boy's wrist, where the watch was visible, Batman continued, "But two months ago, he suddenly had this watch on his wrist out of nowhere. Of all the different alien sightings that have been reported, this boy has been spotted nearby around the time of the sightings, either before or after."
"That's quite interesting," Alfred remarked.
"At first, I thought his watch was some kind of teleportation device, but after taking a closer look at this footage and analyzing the alien's speech patterns, I concluded that it's some kind of alien technology that allows him to transform into these alien creatures instantly. It's quite similar to Shazam, except that Shazam can transform into only one form, while this boy can transform into at least six," Batman explained.
"That is quite impressive, I suppose. But what are your thoughts on this, sir?" Alfred inquired.
"My thoughts? A young boy with unknown, possibly alien technology trying to play the hero. That's a recipe for disaster, don't you think?" Batman countered.
"I think you should have a little more faith in the younger generation, Master Bruce," Alfred replied in a gently admonishing tone.
"I suppose you have a point, Alfred. This might just be my paranoia, but guiding the younger generation is also a good way to prevent a disaster, don't you think?" Batman reasoned.
"You have a point, sir. Should I contact Master Dick?" Alfred suggested.
"No. Nightwing is currently busy on a mission with Young Justice, and I think the Titans will have a better chance in this situation," Batman declared as he rose from his seat.
"Excellent point, sir. But where are you going?" Alfred asked, watching Bruce get up.
"On patrol," Batman answered.
"But your soup is getting cold, sir," Alfred reminded him.
"I can have it later," Batman dismissed.
"I'm afraid that's not negotiable, Master Bruce," Alfred insisted, his expression firm.
Batman met Alfred's unwavering gaze, remained still for a moment, and then relented. "Fine."
With a smile, Alfred handed him the bowl of soup. "Would you like me to prepare some warm water for a bath, Master Bruce?" he offered.
"Not happening, Alfred," Batman refused.
"Well, worth a shot," Alfred quipped.
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Hello my fellow Daydreamers, if you'd like to support me you can check out my original novel "My master was a protagonist" I'm sure you'll enjoy it.
Peace ✌️