Disclaimer: Part of theDC LegacyFan Fic series. Writer does not own characters appearing here
Rated: E for everyone
- DC Legacy: Batman’s Butler #1 (This Issue!)
- DC Legacy: Batman’s Butler #2
- DC Legacy: Batman’s Butler #3
- DC Legacy: Batman’s Butler #4
- DC Legacy: Batman’s Butler #5
- DC Legacy: Batman’s Butler #6 (COMING SOON!)
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The pink feathers of the old dark blue handled feather duster swooped across the mantle place like little batwings. Its owner—one Alfred Pennyworth—stopped cleaning and surveyed his work. Seeing not a speck of dust, he smiled with satisfaction.
“While Master Bruce as Batman fights his many insane rogues like the Joker or the Riddler, I fight dust mites,” Alfred often joked to himself.
He picked up a picture frame which sat upon the mantle and wiped the glass with a rag. He sadly studied the happy couple and young son that were huddled together in that picture that had been taken so long ago. Finally, after a minute or two, he had to set the picture and the memories down.
He was pondering the tiny pieces of lead that would change that smiling, happy boy into a grim cowl-wearing vigilante, when something—or rather someone—exploded into the room. Alfred recognized him at once as the grim vigilante’s son, Damian Wayne. He noted some similarities between the boy before him and the boy in the picture frame. However, his fiery black eyes, Alfred reasoned, did not come from his father but rather his grandfather, Ra’s al Ghul.
“Where is my father?” Damian demanded without as much of a “hello” or “excuse me”. Alfred often wondered if the League of Assassins, which had raised the boy, had taught him anything about being polite.
“Master Bruce is at a charity event tonight. One which he cannot excuse himself from for his OTHER activities,” Alfred told the boy wonder. He reflected back to the portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne and wondered what they would have thought of their son’s escapades. “So it was decided that you would remain here at Wayne Manor tonight. Master Grayson and Miss Brown have already been notified and they will take over your usual patrols.”
“So what am I supposed to do then?” Damian asked, a bit of a whine in his voice.
Alfred thought for a moment and then replied, “Well, when Master Bruce was your age, I used to tell him stories from my life. He and your brothers always seemed to like my adventures.”
“I don’t like fairy tales,” Damian stated bluntly, “besides what adventures could you—a butler—have that are not one of my father’s adventures?”
“Oh, you would be surprised how many adventures I have had that do not involve Master Bruce or Batman at all,” Alfred commented. He glanced to the large bookcase on the far side of the room and said, “For example, I had lots of adventures when I was a spy.”
“You were a spy?” Damian snorted, eyeing the balding older gentlemen. “I highly doubt that!”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but I was,” Alfred smiled, guiding the boy toward a couch beside the empty fireplace, “have a seat and I’ll tell you one of my adventures that I like to call…” he glanced at the bookshelf again, “Berettas and Lollipops.”
Damian sat down on the couch Alfred had directed him to, frowning, “ ‘Berettas and Lollipops’? What garbage is this? Well, I will hear your piece of fiction though it will be a waste of my time and talents.”
Alfred smirked, pulled a chair beside Damian and began to tell his story.
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