Chapter Text
Peter grabbed Alfred's hand and started to walk with him back to the manor. “Alfred… Why did Jason run away?”
“Because Jason is scared of family,” Alfred said, his hand tightening around Peters. “You don’t have to worry about it…”
“Alright.” They reach the kitchen, Alfred opens the door, and Bruce sits at the table, drinking coffee and reading a book.
“Peter, good morning.” Bruce set the book down on the table and turned his attention to the boy. “I’ve made a decision. Since you don’t have any legal records, we’ll create new ones for you. Peter Wayne—how does that sound?”
Peter’s eyes lit up. Letting go of Alfred’s hand, he ran to Bruce and threw his arms around him. “I like it,” he said, his voice muffled against Bruce’s chest.
Bruce’s stern demeanour softened as a rare, wide smile spread across his face—though Peter couldn’t see it. He rested a hand gently on Peter’s back. “It’s surprisingly easy to create an identity in Gotham. Officially, you’re now registered as a distant relative of mine. Convenient, isn’t it?”
Peter pulled back just enough to look up at him, his excitement evident.
Bruce crouched slightly to meet his gaze. “And as of this morning, the adoption papers are nearly finalized. Within the hour, they’ll be filed. After that, Peter... you’ll officially be my son.”
Peter’s hug tightened, and the room was quiet for a moment, save for the subtle clock ticking on the wall. Alfred watched from the doorway, his usual composure wavering as a proud, soft smile crossed his face.
Tim slid past Alfred into the room, his movements automatic as he made a beeline for the coffee machine. Oblivious to the scene unfolding around him, he poured himself a mug of coffee and downed it in one long gulp.
Peter, still holding onto Bruce, watched the dishevelled young man in confusion. Tim, now pouring himself a second cup, finally looked up and noticed the others.
“Morning,” he muttered, his voice flat and groggy.
Bruce’s sharp eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you slept, Tim?” he asked, taking in the heavy bags under the boy’s eyes.
Tim shrugged, sipping his second coffee. “Not for a while. I’m working on a case…” His voice trailed off as he turned toward the exit, his steps slow and unsteady.
Bruce’s tone turned steely. “If you don’t sleep tonight, I’ll gas you.” There was no humour in his voice.
Tim paused in the doorway, letting out a tired sigh. “Fine. Tonight.” He shuffled out, his uneven footsteps echoing down the hall as Peter watched him disappear.
“Where is everyone else?” Peter asked, looking up at Bruce.
“Master Dick and Master Damian are in Blüdhaven for the next few days,” Alfred replied, his hands moving deftly as he cleaned the kitchen.
“But my daughter Cass is here,” Bruce added with a small smile. “She’s eager to meet you. And my son Duke is here, too.”
Peter’s eyes went wide. “How many kids do you have?”
Bruce let out a rare chuckle, shaking his head. “Too many,” he said, a soft laugh escaping at the end. His tone carried an unmistakable warmth and contentment.
Peter wasn’t sure whether to laugh or start jumping up and down with excitement. Not only did he have a family now, but it was also a big one. His heart swelled with joy, and before he could fully process it, Cass walked into the room.
“Cass,” Bruce said, removing his hand from Peter’s shoulder and casually picking up his coffee. “Perfect timing. Peter, this is Cassandra—Cass. You should know she doesn’t speak often,” Bruce added, glancing at Peter. “But she understands everything you say just fine.”
Peter shifted on his feet, suddenly shy. “Hello…” he said softly.
Cass smiled warmly and raised her hands, moving them in fluid, deliberate motions that Peter didn’t understand. Alfred, ever the patient translator, continued to clean as he spoke.
“Hello, Peter,” Alfred began, his voice gentle as he interpreted Cass’s gestures. “I’m Cass. It’s very nice to officially meet you.” Alfred paused, watching her hands carefully as she continued signing. “I’ve heard a lot about you—and I’m glad you’re here.”
Peter’s face lit up, a shy smile spreading across his lips. “I’m glad to meet you, too,” he said earnestly, his voice still quiet.
Cass stepped closer, crouching slightly to meet Peter at eye level. She reached out gently, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, her expression soft and kind. Then, with a quick glance toward Bruce, she signed something else, a playful glint in her eye.
Alfred chuckled as he translated. “She says you’re lucky—you’ll probably be stronger than Duke in no time.”
Peter blinked in surprise, then let out a giggle. “Really?”
Cass nodded, her grin widening as she ruffled his hair.
Before Peter could respond, another voice called from the hallway. “Hey, is someone talking about me?”
Everyone turned as Duke strode into the room, his usual laid-back confidence on full display. He stopped when he spotted Peter, his expression softening. “Peter,” he said with a friendly smile. “I’m Duke. Welcome to the team.”
Peter’s eyes darted between Cass and Duke, overwhelmed but happy. “Thanks,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
__
Duke crouched slightly, meeting Peter’s gaze with a warm smile. “Hey, don’t let Cass fool you,” he teased. “She’s just trying to butter you up before she wipes the floor with you in anything competitive.”
Cass smirked, crossing her arms as she signed something back.
Alfred, still standing nearby, interpreted with an amused tone. “She says it’s not ‘buttering up’—she’s just stating facts.”
Peter giggled again, glancing between Cass and Duke. The friendly banter felt light and comforting.
“Well, Peter,” Duke said, standing back up. “What do you say we show you around the house a little? There’s a games room you’re gonna love.”
Peter’s eyes widened in excitement. “A games room?”
“Yup,” Duke said, motioning for Peter to follow. “C’mon, it’s this way. Cass and I will show you what we’ve got.”
Cass gently took Peter’s hand, giving him an encouraging smile as she led him toward the hallway. Duke walked alongside them, keeping the mood relaxed.
As they entered the games room, Peter’s jaw dropped. The space was huge, filled with arcade machines, a pool table, air hockey, and shelves packed with board games and video games. A large flat-screen TV dominated one wall, with multiple gaming consoles neatly arranged below it.
“Whoa…” Peter breathed, taking it all in.
“Cool, huh?” Duke said, grinning at Peter’s awe. “This is where we hang out when we’re not out saving Gotham—or arguing with Bruce.”
Cass nodded, already heading over to a gaming console. She signed something quickly to Duke, her fingers moving with practiced ease.
Duke laughed. “Cass says you’re about to learn why she’s the undefeated champion of air hockey. But if you want, I’ll show you how to take her down.”
Peter’s smile grew, the nervousness he’d felt earlier melting away. “I want to try!”
Duke walked over to the air hockey table, grabbing the paddles and puck. He handed Peter one paddle, garbing a step stool and putting it on the floor for Peter. “All right, little dude, here’s the secret—don’t let her quiet demeanour fool you. She’s fast, but you’ve got me coaching you. We’ll even the odds.” Peter steps up onto the stool.
Cass rolled her eyes playfully, signing something to Duke.
“She says you’re only saying that because I destroyed you last time,” Duke translated with a grin.
Peter laughed, holding his paddle tightly. “Let’s do it!”
The next hour flew by as they played game after game. Peter quickly caught on, his laughter filling the room as Cass and Duke cheered him on. When Peter finally scored a goal against Cass, he jumped up with excitement.
“I did it! I scored!” he said, his voice loud with joy.
Cass gave him a thumbs-up, a proud smile on her face as she signed something.
“She says you’re a natural,” Duke translated, ruffling Peter’s hair. “And she’s officially thinks you’re good.” Peter looked at the score, 1-15, but he didn’t care.
For the first time in a long time, he felt like a kid again—just a kid playing games with his family.
As they finished the game, Duke leaned back against the air hockey table, watching Peter. “What do you want to try next? Arcade games? Pool? Or should we teach you how to absolutely destroy Damian in Mario Kart when he gets back?”
Peter’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Mario Kart!”
Cass grinned mischievously as she grabbed the controllers, handing one to Peter. Duke sat beside him on the couch.
Peter giggled, feeling more at home than ever. Together, they dove into the game, the sound of laughter and playful competition filling the room.
After a game or two, Alfred brought in a plate for lunch. Then, after a few more games, Peter won, and Mario Cart quickly came to him from his past video game full of life.
“Yeah, I can’t wait for Damian to get home. You’re going to wipe the floor with him,” Duke said with a grin, finishing the last bite of his sandwich.
Cass glanced at the clock and gave Duke a pointed look before signing something quickly. Duke chuckled.
“Looks like it’s time for me to go. I was supposed to start patrol an hour ago.” He laughed lightly, standing up. “But don’t worry, Peter—we’ll play again soon, okay?”
Peter nodded, a little disappointed but still smiling. “Okay.”
Cass rose from the couch as well, signing something to Peter with a soft smile. Duke translated as they headed to the door. “She says you did great today. Next time, you might even beat her—if you practice.”
Peter beamed at the encouragement as Cass gave him a small wave before following Duke out of the room.
A moment later, Alfred appeared in the doorway, as composed and proper as always. “Master Peter,” he began in his usual calm tone, “would you like to continue playing games, or perhaps try something else?”
Peter tilted his head, peering over the back of the couch thoughtfully. “Do we have a library?”
Alfred raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, his tone taking on a hint of good-natured amusement. “Of course we do, young master. This is Wayne Manor, after all.”
Peter sat up straighter, excitement sparking in his eyes. “Can I go?”
His tone carried just the faintest trace of humour. “Naturally. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you there.”
Peter hopped off the couch and followed Alfred down the hall. As they walked, Alfred began to speak, his voice steady and warm. “The Wayne Manor library is one of the largest private collections in Gotham. It has everything from rare first editions to modern novels. You’re bound to find something that piques your interest.”
They reached the double doors of the library, which Alfred opened with a slight flourish. The room beyond was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling shelves stretched up to a high ceiling, with ladders on rails for accessing the upper shelves. Large windows let in soft afternoon light, casting a golden glow across the room. Comfortable armchairs and reading nooks were scattered throughout, and a massive desk sat at the center.
“Wow…” Peter whispered as he stepped into the grand library, the sight of the towering shelves and endless rows of books taking his breath away.
Alfred stood by the doorway, watching Peter’s amazement with a small smile. “If I may suggest, Master Peter, the children’s section is along the far wall to your right. However, I daresay you’ll find books suitable for all interests and ages throughout the collection.”
Peter nodded, wandering toward the shelves as his fingers trailed lightly over the spines of the books. Titles about adventures, mysteries, and science seemed to call out to him, but something specific lingered in his mind.
“Alfred?” Peter asked, turning to face him.
“Yes, young master?”
“Do we have… a book on sign language?” Peter’s voice was soft, but his eyes were bright with determination.
Alfred tilted his head thoughtfully before offering a slight bow. “We most certainly do. If you’ll allow me a moment, I believe I can help you locate one.”
Peter followed Alfred deeper into the library. They passed shelves filled with encyclopedias, historical texts, and rare first editions before stopping at a section labeled Languages. Alfred scanned the titles with practiced ease, pulling a hardcover book from the shelf.
“Here we are,” Alfred said, handing it to Peter. The book’s title read: Introduction to American Sign Language: A Beginner’s Guide.
Peter’s eyes lit up as he took the book carefully in his hands. “Thank you, Alfred.”
“It’s my pleasure, young master,” Alfred replied with a smile. “If I may ask, what brought on this interest?”
Peter hugged the book close to his chest, glancing down shyly. “Cass… She’s really nice. I want to talk to her, like… the way she talks.”
Alfred’s expression softened. “That is a most thoughtful gesture, Master Peter. I have no doubt Miss Cassandra will appreciate the effort.”
Peter nodded, his resolve growing. He hurried back to one of the cozy reading nooks, settling into a plush armchair. As he opened the book and began to study the diagrams of hand shapes and movements, his excitement grew.
The illustrations and explanations were clear, and Peter mimicked the signs as best as he could. Though it was challenging, he found himself smiling at the thought of surprising Cass by signing a greeting the next time he saw her.
Alfred quietly returned to the doorway, observing Peter’s focused expression. “Shall I bring you some refreshments while you study, Master Peter?”
Peter looked up, his face glowing with enthusiasm. “Yes, please!”
With a small bow, Alfred departed, leaving Peter to immerse himself in the world of sign language. For the first time in a long time, Peter felt like he was growing closer to the people around him—learning their language, their ways, and becoming a true part of his new family.
As the hours passed, Peter practiced signing the basics: hello, thank you, and friend. The library felt warm and safe, a place of endless possibilities—and now, a place where he could begin building connections.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the sprawling grounds of Wayne Manor, the faint hum of an engine signaled Duke’s return. Peter, who had been sitting cross-legged on the living room couch with his sign language book, perked up at the sound. The cave door opened a moment later, and Duke strolled in, his jacket slung casually over one shoulder.
“Hey, I’m back!” Duke called out, his voice echoing slightly in the vast entryway.
Peter scrambled off the couch, peeking around the corner to see Duke shaking off his boots. “Duke!”
“Hey, little man,” Duke said with a grin, ruffling Peter’s hair as the boy ran up to him. “What’ve you been up to?”
“I was reading a book on sign language,” Peter said proudly, holding up his hands to mimic a clumsy hello he had just learned.
Duke’s grin widened. “No way! That’s awesome. You’re gonna surprise Cass big time with that.”
Peter beamed at the praise, then looked past Duke expectantly. “Is anyone else coming home?”
Duke shook his head as he hung his jacket on the coat rack. “Nah, Damian and Dick are still in Blüdhaven, and Cass is probably halfway across Gotham by now. It’s just us tonight.”
Alfred appeared in the doorway to the dining room, a serene smile on his face. “Master Duke, welcome back. Dinner is ready, if you and Master Peter would care to join me.”
“Sweet. What’s on the menu, Alfred?” Duke asked, draping an arm over Peter’s shoulder as they followed Alfred into the dining room.
“Roast chicken with a medley of seasonal vegetables,” Alfred replied, gesturing to the elegantly set table. The soft glow of the chandelier illuminated the steaming dishes, filling the room with a mouthwatering aroma.
“Fancy,” Duke said, taking a seat and pulling Peter into the chair next to him. “You really know how to spoil us, Alfred.”
Alfred gave a modest shrug, his eyes twinkling. “One does what one can.”
As they started eating, the room filled with the soft clinking of silverware and the occasional murmurs of conversation. Duke piled his plate high, while Peter, still a little shy, carefully served himself smaller portions.
“So,” Duke began, cutting into his chicken. “What else did you do today, Peter? Besides practicing to put me and Damian to shame in Mario Kart.”
Peter giggled, looking up from his plate. “I went to the library! Alfred helped me find the sign language book. The library’s huge—”
“That tracks,” Duke said with a nod. “Bruce doesn’t do anything small. You find anything else cool in there?”
Peter thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not yet. I mostly just practiced the signs. It’s hard, but… I really want to learn.”
Duke smiled at him, reaching for a piece of bread. “You will. Cass is gonna be so impressed. I bet she’ll even teach you a few tricks of her own.”
“Really?” Peter asked, his eyes lighting up.
“Definitely,” Duke said, leaning back in his chair. “Cass loves it when people put in the effort to connect with her. She’s got this way of making you feel like you’re part of something special.”
Alfred, who was at the table eating with them, added, “Miss Cassandra is indeed a remarkable young woman. I’ve no doubt she’ll be delighted by your enthusiasm, Master Peter.”
Peter smiled shyly, returning his focus to his plate.
As the meal wound down, Duke leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “Man, Alfred, you’ve outdone yourself again.”
“I aim to please,” Alfred replied, beginning to clear the dishes. “Will either of you be requiring dessert?”
Peter glanced at Duke, who raised an eyebrow. “What do you think, little man? Should we raid the kitchen later for cookies, or are you good?”
Peter giggled, covering his mouth with his hand. “Cookies sound fun.”
“Then it’s settled,” Duke said with a grin, standing up and stretching. “C’mon, let’s go relax in the living room. Maybe I’ll help you practice some more signs before bedtime.”
Peter nodded enthusiastically, hopping out of his chair. Alfred watched them fondly as they headed back toward the living room, the quiet warmth of the manor settling over the house like a comforting blanket.
Later that evening, the quiet clinking of plates and laughter spilled from the kitchen as Duke and Peter rummaged through the pantry.
“Okay, Peter,” Duke said, crouching down to inspect a tin of cookies, “we’ve got oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, or… whatever these are. Alfred, what are these?” He held up a neatly wrapped tray of delicate pastries.
“Those, Master Duke, are macarons. A touch of elegance for the more refined palate,” Alfred replied, stepping into the kitchen.
Duke raised an eyebrow and then looked down at Peter. “You feeling elegant tonight?”
Peter giggled, shaking his head. “Chocolate chip!”
“Good choice,” Duke said, pulling the tin off the shelf and setting it on the counter. He popped the lid off with a flourish, revealing perfectly baked cookies. “Grab as many as you want, but don’t tell Bruce. He’ll probably give me a lecture about sugar.”
Alfred, who had been preparing a glass of milk, raised an eyebrow. “Master Bruce is unlikely to notice, but I assure you, I shall be monitoring any cookie overindulgence.”
Peter laughed as Duke held up his hands in mock surrender. “All right, Alfred, you win. Two cookies max, got it?”
Peter nodded, carefully selecting two cookies and placing them on a napkin. Duke grabbed a couple for himself and leaned against the counter, taking a big bite.
“So,” Duke said between chews, “what’s the first thing you’re gonna say to Cass when you see her? In sign, I mean.”
Peter thought for a moment, nibbling on his cookie. “Maybe… ‘hello’ and ‘nice to meet you’?”
“Solid plan,” Duke said with a nod. “Start small. Then work your way up to asking for something cool.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “Cool?”
“Oh, yeah,” Duke said, grinning. “Cass knows stuff that would blow your mind. She’s probably the best fighter out of all of us, even Bruce.”
“Really?” Peter’s voice was full of awe.
“Really,” Duke confirmed, finishing his cookie. “Stick with her, and you’ll be unstoppable.”
Alfred cleared his throat gently, drawing their attention. “Master Peter, it’s nearing bedtime. If you’ve finished your snack, I suggest we get you ready for the evening.”
Peter glanced at Duke, who gave him a playful nudge. “Better listen to Alfred. He’s the boss around here.”
Peter giggled and took the last bite of his cookie, then followed Alfred out of the kitchen. As they climbed the grand staircase, Alfred spoke in his usual calm and measured tone.
“Did you enjoy your evening, Master Peter?”
“Yes,” Peter said, his voice sleepy but happy. “It was the best.”
“I’m very pleased to hear that,” Alfred replied, holding the door to Peter’s room open. The soft glow of a bedside lamp cast a warm light over the neatly made bed and shelves lined with toys and books Bruce had thoughtfully placed there.
Peter climbed into bed, clutching his Rabbit. A book was on his bedside table. Alfred tucked the blanket snugly around him, his movements gentle and practiced.
“Would you like me to leave the lamp on for a little while?” Alfred asked.
Peter nodded, his eyelids already drooping. “no.”
“Very well,” Alfred said, turning the light off.
“Thank you, Alfred,” Peter murmured, his voice heavy with sleep.
Alfred stepped back, giving the boy one last look. “Goodnight, Master Peter. Sweet dreams.”
“Goodnight, Alfred,” Peter whispered, his small hand clutching the blanket.
As Alfred quietly exited the room, closing the door partway, he couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a long while, Wayne Manor felt a little brighter—a little more alive. And as Peter drifted off to sleep, the faintest sound of Duke’s laughter echoed faintly from the living room, the warmth of family filling every corner of the grand old house.
Peter felt his spidey sense go off. He sat up in bed, looking around the dark room. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, allowing him to see the outline of his room. He didn’t see anyone, but his senses yelled at him that he was in danger. He climbed out of bed, his feet moving to the door. The feeling of danger becomes less for a moment before increasing again. Then he heard the sound of footsteps in the hall, getting closer. He jumped back.
DANGER!
He climbs the wall of his room, staying in the ceiling, looking down at the door. Then he heard it, a gun. It was loud, hurting Peter’s. Then the screams, men he didn’t recognize. How many? Too many… there foot steps blend. 5? 10? Alfred could be heard.
“Apologies, but you are not a guest of this house, so I must ask you to leave.” Another gunshot, another, another. Fighting. Then Duke could be heard, his strength shaking the walls. Then another yell. Duke.
Peter drops down from the ceiling. Heading to the door, ignoring his senses. He opens the door and throws a punch at the first guy he sees. Alfred’s gun is now lying on the floor; he is now fighting agents three men at the same time. Duke, on the other hand, is bleeding from his arm, still in his pyjamas and still fighting, using his Umbrakinesis to give him an advantage. Peter looks down the hall, and more men coming up the stairs. Tim’s room door opens, joining the fight, bags under his eyes still present. Peter grabbed the first guy's arm and threw him against the wall. Then, a loud noise made Peter look to his right. Alfred, holding his side, fell to the ground. Peter ran that way, using the wall to jump up and hit the man in the head. The other men Alfred was fighting on the ground already.
Alfred is still alive on the ground. Peter kneeling next to him
“Alfred..?” Peter said with a shaky voice.
“Master Peter, run…” Peter stared at him, unmoving. His mine flashed. His pain hastened. He looked at Alfred, and Aunt May flashed throughout his mind. Then, the little boy who he once called a friend. His eyes pleaded for rescue as the guns cut him down. Peter couldn't move.
“Peter…” Alfred tried to grab his arm. “Please.”
Peter stood up and looked behind him. The noise of the fight was blocked out now. But Duke lay on the ground unmoving, and Tim’s face was bloodied.
Then, as he moved to run, one of the men came running after him and grabbed him. Peter punched him in the face, breaking his nose. More men came rushing in, Peter fighting back, but his arms were held tight as more men came. Tim tries to pull the men away from Petter, but another group piles up on him.
Peter’s arms were restrained with handcuffs. The ones from the lab. Built for him… built to restrain him.
One man threw Peter over his shoulder, and the men rushed out of the building. Tim stands up as they run, chasing after them.
“PETER!” he yelled as the men ran out the front door, throwing Peter into the car and taking off into the night. Tim grabbed a car as well, but as he sped out of the driveway, the car he was following was gone.
“PETER!”
He stops the car, climbs out and pulls himself to the manor door. He wasn’t bleeding… but he knew something inside was. Something broken. He fell to the ground just at the door.
___
The bats were signalled when the alarm went off, Alfred calling them on the comms.
“Someone in the house, " he had told them. Gunfire was heard through the comms. Batman got into the car as soon as he could. The robber he was fighting was not getting the usual treatment; instead, he was left on the ground, bleeding. “Apologies, but you are not a guest of this house, so I must ask you to leave.” Alfred's voice called through the comms.
“I’m coming,” Batman said, his noise unsteady. He wasn’t close. He wasn’t anywhere near the manor.
Dick and Damian had heard it too. In Bludhaven, they took Dicks car and rushed over.
Duke had woken from the alarm. “I’m here.” He started fighting; he could easily take ten men on his own. There were more than ten men…
Cass was closer; she had started her way home an hour earlier. Her motorcycle tires yell as she speeds up.
Tim had not woken up right away; only after the primary fight happened was he awoken from his death-like sleep. He started fighting immediately, his mind still fuzzy from sleep.
When Alfred was hit he didn’t yell or cry, he fell to the ground a thud being heard through the comms.
“ALFRED!” Bruce yelled through the comms. Alfred's breaths are still present but heavy.
“Master Peter, run…” he said. Dicks heart jumped; Peter was at home. He pushed the petal harder, even though it was already on the floor.
“Peter—” Alfred breathed, “Please.”
A struggle could be heard. Peter Small yells as he fights back, and Duke’s comm goes silent as well.
Then Tim’s voice, “They have Peter…”
“PETER!” Tim’s voice screamed.
Cass watched the van pull out, her voice coming in ruff from little use. “PETER!” She followed after it, throwing a tracker into the vehicle. Then, the top opens, and a man with a gun sticks his head out, shooting at her, hitting a tire and sending her off the road.
As she pulled herself from the floor, the truck was gone. She walked back to the manor, limping from the wound on her leg.
Tim is lying on the floor at the door. She checks his pulse. Alive. She pulls him into the house, heading up the stairs to the others. Duke had a wound on his head, bleeding but alive. She moved to Alfred, eyes open and staring up at the ceiling.
“Alfred…” She whispered.
“They got him…” He responded. Making her breathe a sigh of relief. Alive. She looked him over and saw his wound on his side, a gunshot wound. She grabs her jacket and pushes pressure on it. She types on her watch, sending a message to the group: ‘Doctor, manor, now.’ Alfred's eyes close. Cass shook him awake.
Bruce spoke on the comms again, “Dr. Thompkin is on her way.”
Cass sent another. ‘More. Hospital' Bruce called 911.
Bruce pulled into the manor, still in his Batman attire, entered the building, checked over Tim, picked him up, and carried him to the hall.
Duke, now slowly waking up, looked over the situation. “Bruce… you're here…” Duke thought they were saved. That Bruce had stopped the bad guys. He was wrong.
Bruce headed to Alfred, standing above Cass.
“I’ll be fine, Master Bruce. I’ve had worse. Take care of the others.”
“I know.” Bruce pulled his cowl off. Taking a deep breath before turning to his sons. Tim is still out. Bruce knees at his side, removing his pyjama shirt and seeing his chest all red and bruised. Ribs were broken, possibly more. “Damn it… Duke, status?” He didn’t look to Duke, his attention on Tim.
“Injuries to arms… head wound, possible concussion.” He pauses and looks around for a moment. “Scratch that, definitely a concussion… I’ll survive.”
The doctor arrived shortly after, her expression grim as she assessed the situation. She quickly determined that both Alfred and Tim required immediate medical attention—both needed to be rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery.
Bruce, his jaw tight with determination, stripped off his Bat-suit with swift precision, his movements quick and purposeful. The doctor applied pressure to the gash on Alfred's side, her hands steady despite the urgency of the situation.
As the EMTs arrived, Bruce's voice cut through the tension, making sure to be more like Brucie Wayne than Batman. “Help! Over here!”
The EMTs sprang into action, carefully loading Alfred and Tim onto separate stretchers. Bruce followed Tim's stretcher, climbing into the back of the ambulance with him, his eyes never leaving the boy's face. Meanwhile, the doctor climbed into the second ambulance with Alfred and Duke, despite his protests, was ushered into a third vehicle, the paramedics insistent that he get checked out.
“I’m fine,” Duke argued, trying to wave them off, but his exhaustion and the shock in his eyes told a different story. However, he made no further protests as Cass stepped in beside him. She took a seat next to him, her leg propped awkwardly on the stretcher. She winced but said nothing, her expression masked, though the pain in her eyes was evident. The leg wasn't broken, but it definitely hurt—each bump of the ambulance a reminder of the chaos they’d just survived.
Duke glanced at her, trying to keep his composure, but it was clear he wasn’t okay, either. “You sure you’re good?”
Cass gave a small nod, her jaw clenched against the discomfort. ‘I’m fine,’ she signed, though her posture suggested otherwise.
The city lights blurred as the ambulances sped toward the hospital, the weight of the night hanging heavily in the air.