Alfred was disappointed.
He had expected difficulty, especially with the constraints.
A man like Black Mask, bold enough to declare war on the Penguin, should have been cautious, prepared for retaliation.
He expected him to be hidden behind layers of security.
Alfred had assumed it would take hours to even locate a credible lead, and perhaps longer to confirm it.
He had even already begun thinking of what new abilities to acquire in order to track the man properly, then fight his way through a fortified network to reach him without leaving leads.
Instead, what he found was laughable.
Black Mask had simply mobilized thugs.
Hundreds of them.
Spread loosely across Gotham, as if this was an actual plan.
While he stayed in the penthouse of Lacey Towers, where he usually lived.
Alfred stood on the rooftop of a nearby building feeling irritation over the lost dreams as the evening light stretched across Gotham.
Two hours.
That was all it had taken to find him and reach this place.
Two hours to find him.
“That useless idiot,” Alfred muttered.
There was nothing for him to gain here.
He sighed.
Then dissolved into smoke.
A moment later, he reformed silently on the balcony of the penthouse.
To his side, two men stood near the railing, speaking casually as they looked out over the city.
Their posture was completely relaxed.
Alfred raised his hands and the wires moved.
They slipped through the air and wrapped around the men’s necks before either could react.
A single, controlled motion followed.
Alfred did not slow down.
He stepped inside.
The interior of the penthouse was brightly lit, modern, and extremely extravagant.
At the center, a man in a white suit sat before a laptop.
Black Mask.
Two guards stood closer to the entrance, their attention half-divided as they spoke quietly among themselves.
No one of them even noticed him.
Alfred raised his hands once more.
The wires moved again.
——— At the same time, inside the Batcave, Batman sat before the bat computer, reviewing footage.
Again.
And again.
The recorded interaction between Alfred Pennyworth and the masked butler played in silence.
Pennyworth had already reported everything.
But that was not enough for Batman.
He needed to know how much of it was true, if any at all.
The first thing he needed to determine was: Was the encounter intentional?
Or coincidence?
The masked butler’s movements through the city appeared random.
No pattern.
No structure.
He walked without direction, changed paths without reason, entered the grocery store, purchased a few items, then returned directly to the Iceberg Lounge.
Suspicious but not conclusive.
Batman accessed older records and found the same pattern repeated over days.
Random movement followed by grocery stops then return.
This was enough to classify the encounter as coincidence.
And yet, his movement today still seemed suspicious.
His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.
“Miss Barbara is here,” Alfred Pennyworth said from behind him.
“As is Master Jason.” Jason spoke first.
“So?
Did you find anything?” “No,” Batman replied.
“The more I analyze it, the more it appears random.
But I don’t accept that conclusion.” “What if he’s actually telling the truth?” Jason said.
“So far, everything lines up.
His words match his actions.
He takes the whole ‘butler’ thing way too seriously,” Jason added.
“I am inclined to agree with Master Jason,” Alfred Pennyworth said.
Everyone turned toward him, including Batman.
Alfred continued.
“The way he described his approach to the profession… resonated with me.
If a butler is an attendant, then the question becomes, where do we define the limits of that role?
It may involve cooking, cleaning or even protection.” The look on Alfred’s face became thoughtful.
“But if one were to pursue perfection in that role, then the perfect attendant is one who can act in place of his master or help him in all matters, regardless of the field of speciality.” “I do not say this lightly,” Alfred continued.
“But if one were to set such a standard for themselves… the discipline required would rival your own.” Batman remained still for a moment.
Then he said “Even if everything he said is true, it doesn’t change the problem.” He turned to them.
“He knows or he’s close enough to something he shouldn’t know.
That’s not something I can ignore.” Before anyone could respond, a beeping sound echoed through the cave.
Batman focused immediately on the bat computer.
His eyes scanned the incoming alert.
He frowned.
“Black Mask,” he said.
Barbara asked.
“What about him?” Batman’s gaze hardened.
“He’s dead along with four of his men, all of them were decapitated” A brief pause.
“and Black Mask’s head is missing.” ——— Back in the Iceberg Lounge, the atmosphere had returned to normal as henchmen and workers carried on with the reparations.
Meanwhile, inside the Penguin’s office, the crime boss stood behind his desk, staring in surprise.
On the surface of his desk, there was a tray, and on that tray Black Mask’s head.
It was positioned neatly, almost ceremonially, as if it were no different from a dish being presented to him.
Across from him, Alfred stood as he always did, collected and professional, his face hidden behind the mask.
For a brief moment, when he had first seen Alfred enter carrying the tray, the Penguin had been confused.
What was he doing here?
Then he saw it and understanding followed, the butler finished the work early.
The Penguin’s eyes remained fixed on the head, his mind marvelled at the level of efficiency this butler worked with, then at the viciousness of his actions.
To locate, infiltrate, eliminate, and return… all within a matter of hours.
To present the result like this, on a tray.
The same way he served food, drinks, or reports.
It was strangely impressive and deeply unsettling.
How long had it taken?
Three hours?
Four?
The Penguin exhaled slowly as another emotion began to rise inside him as he looked at the head of one of the bastards he hated most.
He laughed like a madman, completely forgetting himself and his act of gentlemanly crime.
“Hahaha…!” He leaned over the head, looking down at it with a mixture of contempt and triumph.
“All that rage,” he said.
“All that money… and in the end?” He smirked.
“You were just a thug with a fancy mask.” He breathed deeply, his face twisting into a disgusting grin.
“Fit to be served on a tray.” He straightened, adjusting his coat.
“Don’t worry,” he added casually.
“I’ll take good care of your territory.” Then his expression shifted as he remembered.
Alfred was still standing there, watching his every action.
The Penguin cleared his throat, regaining composure.
“I may have shown you something… unpleasant,” he said.
“My history with this man goes back quite far.” “I understand,” Alfred replied.
“There are moments when one must close an old chapter.” His head tilted to the tray.
“And Master,” he continued, “I would advise you to dispose of the head appropriately.
If someone such as Batman interrogates his subordinates, they may connect the timing of his attack on your establishment with his death.” The Penguin nodded immediately.
“Of course,” he said.
“I won’t make such a trivial mistake.” He leaned back slightly, satisfaction returning to his expression.
“You’ve done excellent work,” he added.
“Now knowing our unsavory friend, we should expect a visit tonight.
But for the time being, you may take some rest.” Alfred inclined his head.
“Thank you, Master.” Without another word, he turned and exited the office.
Left alone, the Penguin let out a slow breath.
His gaze returned to the head on the tray.
Then back, to the door.
“That man…” he muttered.
A treasure.
There was no other word for it.
The more time he spent with this butler, the more he understood how out of the world he was.
Flawless execution and absolute discipline.
Every action he did was for the sole benefit of his master, and he carried himself with a rare dignity while protecting the image of his profession and even more so, his master.
The Penguin had a faint smile forming.
The more he interacted with Alfred, the clearer it became.
This was not a man who would serve just anyone.
He was a man with unbelievable standards and would never accept a classless person as a master.
And the fact that Alfred remained by his side was a testament to the level at which he operated.
His facial expression became determined.
[I cannot afford to disappoint him or he will most likely search for a new master to replace me] The Penguin thought.
Any display of weakness or lapse in composure was completely unacceptable.
His earlier reaction to the stupid head, that moment of indulgent triumph would be the last.
With Alfred by his side, he would not need to worry as much about rivals or sudden threats.
If anyone was foolish enough to challenge him, he would simply send the butler.
His mind was slowly filling with growing ambition.
——— That night, The Penguin’s men moved quickly.
Black Mask’s territory was absorbed with surprising speed.
His remaining forces were either eliminated or quietly folded into the Penguin’s ranks.
And such actions naturally did not go unnoticed by the city’s hero.
By midnight, three figures moved through the city toward the Iceberg Lounge.