A week had passed since the confrontation between Batman and the butler.
And since then, the Dark Knight had not returned to the Iceberg Lounge.
Which left a certain butler quietly dissatisfied.
Alfred walked through the streets of Gotham with measured steps worthy of a dignified butler.
To any observer, he was taking a walk in the surrounding area under the pretense of ensuring no rival gangs were encroaching on Penguin’s territory.
In truth, he was pondering the hero’s absence problem.
He had been looking forward to their next encounter.
There had been a brief moment where Alfred considered a direct approach.
Take the confrontation to Wayne Manor.
He dismissed it almost immediately.
The Penguin had no interest in provoking a war with Batman and made sure to tell Alfred.
Going there to start trouble intentionally could be considered a violation to the master order and Alfred didn’t want to test how far the god’s punishment will go in this case.
So what he required was a subtler approach.
Something that would not be perceived as aggression.
Something that would instead awaken Batman’s paranoia.
He needed the Dark Knight to come to him.
Barbara crossed his mind for a brief moment, but he dismissed that as well.
That path risked linking Sebastian to him.
He didn’t want that.
Escalating criminal activity was also not an option.
The Penguin would disapprove, and more importantly, it would contradict the narrative Alfred had carefully built for himself.
He was nothing but a dutiful butler.
In the end, he had no options but to wait for how events would unfold.
His contract with the Penguin was one month, and he was already two-thirds through it.
When it ended, he would reassess his position and select his next master accordingly.
Still, he could not deny a simple truth.
The Penguin was an acceptable master to keep around.
The work was easy.
The expectations were simple.
He was treated with utmost respect.
He even had designated days off.
It felt like he was the VP of a criminal organization in all but the name.
The only drawback, a lack of meaningful confrontation with enemies.
Which, in turn, limited his power farming.
Something he was extremely displeased with.
As Alfred continued walking, his gaze shifted slightly.
An old man in a butler’s uniform entered a nearby grocery shop.
Alfred kept walking as he muttered “What are the odds?” A faint smile formed beneath his mask.
He kept walking forward straight toward the shop.
Inside the shop, he picked up a plastic basket without drawing attention and moved deliberately in the opposite direction of the old man.
His movements were casual and unhurried.
He selected a few items from the shelves, allowing time to pass naturally.
A minute later, their paths aligned.
They stopped.
Face to face.
The older butler showed a brief flicker of surprise.
“Hello, sir,” Alfred said smoothly.
“I did not expect to encounter a fellow butler today.
Especially not a senior one.” He paused, then inclined his head in a light bow.
“Where are my manners?
I am Alfred.
It is a pleasure to meet you.” The older man recovered quickly, composure settling back into place.
“Yes… quite unexpected,” he said.
“A pleasure.
I am Alfred Pennyworth.” There was a brief silence.
“Oh,” Alfred said thoughtfully.
“What a coincidence.
We share both the same name and profession.” Pennyworth gave a small nod.
“Indeed.
Are you new to the city?” “Yes,” Alfred replied.
“I began serving a fine gentleman approximately three weeks ago.” Pennyworth’s gaze lingered, sharp and observant.
“If you do not mind me asking… why the mask?
I cannot say I have seen a butler adopt such a practice before.” “That,” Alfred said, “is a rather long story.” He continued.
“But the short version is that since I was a child, I have held a deep interest in the butler profession.
To truly master the craft requires mastery across many disciplines, a challenge few can fully understand let alone appreciate.” A slight pause.
“I wear the mask as a symbol of that commitment.
I am nobody but a butler.
Even this name is not my own, it is more of a title I chose, representing the ideal of a wise and capable attendant.” Pennyworth studied him for a moment before speaking.
“That is… a unique approach to the profession.” “I would not be surprised if most consider it madness,” Alfred replied evenly.
“However, extreme goals often require equally extreme approaches.” He shifted, preparing to move on.
“Now, if you will excuse me, sir, I must continue with my shopping.
It was a pleasure…” He stopped mid-sentence.
His head tilted.
“…your scent.” A brief pause.
“I remember it.” Then, almost immediately, he straightened.
“My apologies,” he said.
“I have taken enough of your time.
I would not wish to cause you trouble with your employer.” A subtle shift in tone.
“With all due respect, he possesses a rather unsavory personality.” Without waiting for a response, Alfred stepped past him and began walking away.
Behind him, Pennyworth spoke.
“You can identify my employer… by scent?” Alfred paused, but did not turn.
“Yes,” he said.
“I encountered him approximately one week ago.
His behavior was rather… painfully disappointing.
I had high expectations considering his training.” A short silence followed before he added, “And if my knowledge of this could cause you difficulty, rest assured, I have no intention of revealing our meeting.” He resumed walking.
“Good day, sir.” Alfred continued down the aisle, selecting items as if nothing of importance had occurred.
Behind him, Alfred Pennyworth remained still for a moment, his expression thoughtful.
Then slowly, he turned.
This was something his master needed to know.
——— Alfred returned to the Iceberg Lounge in a notably improved mood.
The encounter in the grocery store had gone exactly as intended.
There was little doubt in his mind, Alfred Pennyworth would report the conversation.
Batman will be forced to come.
The man would not tolerate it.
Someone almost certainly knowing his identity, acknowledging it so casually, and then walking away as if it were of no consequence, that would not sit well with him.
At the very least, Batman would feel compelled to act.
To confront.
To establish boundaries.
Whether through negotiation… or intimidation.
Either outcome would bring him exactly what he wanted.
But as Alfred approached the Iceberg Lounge, he was met by an unexpected scene.
The usual high class posh exterior was gone.
In its place, broken glass scattered across the ground.
Furniture overturned.
Sections of the entrance were visibly damaged, as if something had detonated nearby.
The same could be said for the entire avenue.
Alfred stepped inside, his gaze sweeping across the scene.
He turned to Lark, who stood nearby, already in motion with other staff, attempting to restore some semblance of order.
“Lark,” Alfred said.
“What occurred here?” She turned toward him.
“Mr.
Alfred.
Someone left a case inside the Lounge,” she said.
“It exploded, as you can see.” Alfred nodded once.
“Do we know who is responsible?” “I believe Mr.
Cobblepot does,” she replied.
“He mentioned that someone was declaring war.
He seemed to know who it was.” She paused.
“He also asked that you see him immediately upon your return.” Alfred said.
“Thank you, Lark.” Without further delay, he moved toward the office.
The moment he entered, the tension was evident.
The Penguin sat behind his desk, his expression dark, twisted further by anger.
This was the ugliest face Alfred had seen from this man yet.
The Penguin looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“Where have you been?” he demanded.
“Observing the surroundings,” Alfred replied evenly.
The Penguin’s eyes gleamed with anger.
“My establishment was attacked,” he said.
“And you didn’t notice anything?
How disappointing.” “I apologize,” Alfred said.
The Penguin said.
“This was a declaration of war.” “So I have been told,” Alfred replied.
“Do you know who is responsible?” The Penguin’s expression hardened further.
“That bastard,” he spat.
“Black Mask.” A brief silence followed.
“Starting now,” the Penguin continued, “you are not to leave this place unless I say so.
You will keep an eye on everything.
This is only the beginning.
If he’s bold enough to do this, then he’s prepared for a full-scale conflict.” “I understand,” Alfred said.
“However, if I may… I believe there is a more efficient solution.” The Penguin raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?” “Why place yourself and your establishment in a defensive position?” Alfred continued.
“You can take the fight to them.” The Penguin exhaled sharply.
“It’s not that simple, Alfred,” he said.
“Territory wars between families and gangs, especially offensive ones, are costly.
Even if I strike first, if I lose too much, others will take advantage.
He had more men and resorting to defense is the more sensible option” “You will not lose anything, Master,” Alfred said.
There was no doubt in his tone.
“I am a butler,” he continued.
“And I prefer to avoid violence as much as possible.
However, this establishment was attacked.
The place I serve was threatened along with its master.” A brief pause.
“That is unacceptable.” He stepped forward.
“Grant me permission,” he said, “to eliminate Black Mask and his organization.
I will carry out the task alone.” Another pause.
“I am willing to employ… a less refined approach this once and present you with his head.” The Penguin studied him.
“You believe you can take on Black Mask?” he asked.
“And his entire operation?
There are hundreds of men.
Possibly more than a thousand.” “Grant me permission to operate beyond this establishment premises,” Alfred replied, “and I will ensure you receive his head.” The Penguin leaned back, eyes still fixed on him.
[This is not arrogance, he sounds certain] The Penguin thought silently.
After a moment.
“Very well,” he said.
“Bring me his head.” A faint smile formed beneath Alfred’s mask.
“Do you wish to impose any constraints on my actions, Master Cobblepot?” he asked politely.
The Penguin considered briefly.
“Return before midnight,” he said.
“Avoid getting yourself killed or injured, and don’t cause too much mess that can be tracked to me.” Alfred’s smile widened, unseen.
“It shall be done.”