[Wayne Manor]
"It was a fun night, no doubt about it," Barbara sighed wearily, plopping down on the sofa.
"At least there'll be sothing to rember," I tried to remain optimistic. Yeah, both my clothes and myself are enough to make cry. I should get myself together, then go et the Dark Knight's son.
After Damien, on his grandfather's orders, took Alfred hostage, Nightwing stayed behind to keep an eye on him. I wonder if our dear Grayson was up to the task? But that's for later, right now I need a shower!
Yamashiro and Bordeaux remained in the living room to catch their breath. Barbara hurried to the butler for so dical supplies. The commissioner's daughter believed I urgently needed dical attention.
It was good that at least she wouldn't force to visit the hospital, and spending a day in bandages wasn't a big deal. It's best not to argue with won in such matters.
A cold shower washed away all the dirt and caked blood from my body. The nurous abrasions, bruises, and cuts left by the sharp blade of the katana posed no serious threat, with the exception of the cut shoulder. Barbara brought the necessary supplies.
I saw pain in her gaze. No, she wasn't physically injured; her pain was more psychological. She didn't like seeing in such poor condition; it depressed her, giving rise to anxiety and bitterness. I understand her; if sothing similar had happened to her, I would have been restless too. I'm even glad that I was the one injured, and not soone close to . Barbara had already uncorked the necessary vial when Sasha stopped her, saying it would be best for her to handle it.
Bordeaux was a professional rcenary, highly trained, and her required skills included first aid. Clearly, she was more experienced in this area than Gotham's young heroine. Gordon understood this and, therefore, didn't object, silently yielding the doctor's place to my bodyguard.
Sasha skillfully, with the impeccable skill of a professional, treated the cuts and the wound on my shoulder, and, carefully bandaging it, partially transford into a mummy. Having completed the dical procedures, I took advantage of the spatial storage facility's ability to instantly change my wardrobe.
The clothes materialized right on , successfully concealing all the bandages, plasters, and other signs of my nurous injuries. Fortunately, I managed to protect my face from injury, so strangers shouldn't have any questions about my well-being.
We went up to the second floor. Dick was waiting for us outside Damien's room, and judging by his glassy eyes, he wasn't exactly enjoying being a babysitter.
"Have you shown up?" Grayson asked, rubbing his neck. "You have no idea what I've been through. You've never seen such a selfish asshole in your life. After eting the Wayne brat, I sohow lost the desire to have children of my own."
"Don't worry, friend," I patted the forr Robin on the shoulder. "Rember: anyone who has a friend like has already achieved a lot in life."
"You know what, Alex… Go to hell!"
"On the first flight out. Where's Bruce? Hasn't been here yet?"
"Of course, he ca by, talked to his son for a bit, and then went to look for Alfred. I think he'll be back soon, I hope he brings so cookies."
"Will you let in? I'd like to see the kid who managed to bring my friend to such a sad state," I said gloomily, not hiding my displeasure.
"Alex, you..." Dick was clearly touched by the concern shown.
"No one dares to tornt you but . How dare he take my bread! Let's go, let's sort it out."
"...I knew it was too good to be true."
We entered a spacious room.The size of the room was impressive. It housed a bathroom, a toilet, a computer room, sothing like a miniature kitchen, and a brightly lit living room.
In short, a small self-sufficient house within a house. A small boy sat on a soft, disproportionately large armchair, maintaining his posture perfectly honed. He was reading a disproportionately thick book. And everything would be fine if the boy weren't six years old, and the book wasn't on financial analysis.
Apparently, he's getting ready to take over the reins of Wayne Enterprises in the future. Well, comndable...
"Who are you?" Damien asked in an arrogant tone, without looking up from his reading. "I didn't invite anyone."
"There are people who aren't invited - they co themselves," I answered, striding towards the boy.
Then he finally closed the book, looked at arrogantly, and asked, "Really? I don't know any such people…"
"They're called - impudent people. They're quite unpleasant individuals, but you can't live without them, as they say. My na is Alex, nice to et you, kid," I extended my hand in greeting.
"You," Ra's al Ghul's grandson stared at in amazent.
"How can you be here?! You should be..."
"Yes, yes, imprisoned by your grandfather. Well, what can I say about that? I've been to Nanda Parbat. Unfortunately, I didn't particularly like it there. Everyone there had nasty personalities, unfriendly faces, bad food, and the internet didn't work. Basically, I decided it wasn't for ... So, your grandfather and I parted ways peacefully, and as an apology for the inappropriate behavior of his subordinates, he even gave a Lazarus Pit."
"What nonsense!" Damien exclaid, not believing a word of it.
"It's not nonsense, you can ask your father, he'll confirm it."
"You're lying!"
"I never lie. That's my principle," I shrugged and sat on the arm of the sofa opposite Damien.
"There's no way you could have defeated my grandfather, much less gotten your hands on the League of Shadows' main treasure. The Lazarus Pit has been guarded by ten protectors for three hundred centuries. My mother, Master David, Lady Shiva, and, finally, Cassandra would never have allowed such a thing to happen. You're simply weak; you wouldn't have been strong enough to escape Nanda Parbat, let alone steal the sacred waters," the younger Wayne continued, throwing aside the unfinished book.
"You're still young and don't understand much. Know that it's not the strong who wins, but the determined who wins. And besides, why do you think I'm weak? Do you even know who I am? The ocean once attacked , and now it's the Pacific Ocean." I distinctly heard the ladies slap their pretty faces with their palms.
"I brought myself out of a coma, and then pulled the shrapnel out of my own eyes. This arm," I pointed to my left shoulder, "was ripped off and sewn back on with this hand," I clenched my right palm into a fist. This ti Nightwing couldn't stay away either, slapping himself hard on the forehead.
"What are you talking about! Can soone explain to what's wrong with this man," the boy addressed those present in a raised voice.
"Oh, kid, I see you're completely out of your mind." I shook my head, annoyed by his lack of education.
"I don't want to hear such things from an idiot like you. How dare you say such things?"
"I see that there's no smoke coming out, which ans there's nothing cooking in there!"
"Are you normal or what?" the boy growled, full of anger. I wanted to continue my Alex therapy, but the child's father returned, and the re-education course had to be postponed. Behind him, carrying a silver tray, followed the butler Alfred. He brought a cup of hot tea and a plate of freshly baked cookies.
"Alex, stop mocking Damien," the owner of the estate addressed .
"I'm just doing it as a precaution," I shrugged. "And who if not can put a lost boy on the right path. You know, that's my specialty."
.
.
.
Thanks for reading guys, hope you enjoyed the chapter.
Rember you can always make a part of your property if you like too much.
Reviews
All reviews (0)