The port warehouse in Bludhaven stood in near darkness, the only light coming from a few fixtures overhead.
Crates filled the space from wall to wall, stacked high and packed tight, forming narrow corridors between them.
At the center of it all stood Roland “Blockbuster” Desmond.
He held one of the newly arrived weapons in his hand, turning it as he inspected it.
The shipment was substantial, hundreds of automatic machine guns, all smuggled in quietly, ready to flood the black market.
He gave a small, satisfied nod.
Then turned toward the men gathered behind him.
“Everything accounted for?” he asked.
The man at the front nodded quickly.
“Yes, boss.
We checked every crate.
It’s all there.” “Good,” Blockbuster said.
“Move them to the distribution points.
Start pushing them out.” Suddenly, gunfire sounded from the outside.
Blockbuster’s expression shifted instantly.
His eyes narrowed.
“It seems we have company,” he said.
He began walking toward the entrance, his men following behind him, weapons already drawn.
The heavy footsteps echoed faintly as they moved through the warehouse.
When they stepped outside, several bodies were already on the ground.
And standing over them two figures.
A man in a black and blue suit, holding twin batons.
And a woman in black and orange, a knife glinting in her hand.
Nightwing and Tarantula.
Blockbuster’s gaze hardened.
“Since when do you two work together?” he said.
“Last I checked, you don’t kill, Nightwing.” “That should be the least of your concerns,” Tarantula replied coldly.
Before either side could move, a calm voice came from the side.
“It appears I have arrived at an inconvenient time.” Every head turned.
“I would suggest,” the voice continued, “that you consider conversation before resorting to violence.” From the shadows, a man in a black suit and white mask walked forward with steady, unhurried steps.
Blockbuster’s eyes narrowed.
“And who the hell are you?” The man placed a hand lightly over his chest.
“Alfred,” he said.
“A butler in the service of Mr.
Cobblepot.” Blockbuster’s expression shifted.
“You’re that freak working for the Penguin.” “I am honored you have heard of me.
And if I am not mistaken,” Alfred replied, “you are Mr.
Desmond.” He stopped a distance away, his posture relaxed.
“I have come here specifically to speak with you.” His gaze briefly moved toward Nightwing and Tarantula.
“If you would excuse me, good sir and my lady, I request a few minutes to address a matter with Mr.
Desmond.
You are welcome to resume your activities afterward.” Tarantula scoffed.
“Who do you think you are?” “We’re not going anywhere,” Nightwing added in a firm tone.
“I am not asking you to leave,” Alfred replied evenly.
He turned back to Blockbuster.
“Mr.
Desmond, one of our shipments has been delayed at this port for several days due to your recent activities.” A brief pause.
“Master Cobblepot has no interest in interfering with your operations in this city.
We simply ask that you refrain from obstructing ours.
The delayed cargo contains… essential ingredients for the Iceberg Lounge restaurant.
Continued disruption can affect the quality of service we provide.” His tone remained polite.
“I urge you to reconsider your actions carefully, so that this matter does not escalate unnecessarily.” Blockbuster stared at him for a second.
Then let out a short, humorless laugh.
“Is this a joke?” he said.
“Did that ugly midget send you here to entertain me?” Alfred’s head tilted.
“Mr.
Desmond,” he said, “your words are… inappropriate.
I have approached you with respect.
I expect the same in return.” “Or what?” Blockbuster said, “You’re going to punish me?
I don’t care what nonsense you pull in Gotham.
This is my city.
I do what I want.” Alfred was silent for a moment.
Then nodded.
“I had hoped to resolve this peacefully,” he said.
“However, it appears you prefer to lead by example.” He glanced briefly toward Nightwing and Tarantula.
“My apologies for interrupting your night,” he added.
“But it seems these gentlemen require instruction in proper conduct.” And then he began walking toward Blockbuster.
Blockbuster’s expression twisted.
“Kill him.” Gunfire erupted instantly.
Ten men opened fire.
A barrage of bullets tore through the air, only to be stopped by a faint shimmering mesh that appeared in front of Alfred.
The bullets struck the mesh and fell to the ground.
All while Alfred kept his slow approach toward them.
After moments, the gunfire ceased as confusion spread through the group.
Alfred lifted his hands.
The wires responded.
Barely visible lines shot forward and in an instant, every weapon was ripped from their hands before they could react.
Guns clattered across the ground.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “my business is with your employer.” A brief pause.
“Step back,” he added, “and you will not be harmed.” Blockbuster’s face twisted with raw anger as his body began growing in size.
The fabric of his suit’s shirt and jacket ripped apart as his frame grew into a hulking, four-meter-tall monster.
His breathing turned heavy, animalistic, and his eyes locked sinisterly onto Alfred.
“I’ve had enough of you,” he growled.
“I’ll kill you myself.” He charged forward and swung a massive punch with enough force to crush cement.
Alfred simply raised his left hand, palm open, and received the blow.
The impact stopped dead against his hand as if it had struck an immovable wall.
For a brief moment, Blockbuster froze, his eyes widening in disbelief.
Alfred’s right arm moved.
A single punch landed cleanly into Blockbuster’s side.
The sound of bones breaking echoed in the night, followed immediately by a roar of pain as the giant staggered backward.
Alfred did not give him time to recover.
His left arm came up again, this time driving upward in an uppercut that hit the staggering monster chin, the blow lifted the massive body off its feet and flipped it onto its back.
Blockbuster crashed onto the ground, groaning, his body struggling to respond as pain overtook him.
Alfred stood over him, posture straight, voice calm and controlled.
“When given respect, one should return it in kind,” he said.
“To disregard those before you invites unnecessary conflict, and conflict leads to consequences one may not be prepared to bear.” Blockbuster tried to rise, but his limbs trembled under him.
“I came here for a simple matter,” Alfred continued.
“A shipment of seafood was delayed without reason and I wanted to solve it.
That was all.
Yet you chose hostility, a path that offers you no benefit.” His tone did not change.
“I am not unreasonable enough to tarnish Master Cobblepot’s reputation over the life of someone such as yourself.
However, it is necessary that I impart a lesson.” He raised his hand, moving it in a calm horizontal motion before clenching his fist and pulling back.
The scream that followed was inhuman.
Blockbuster’s right arm and leg were shredded apart instantly, everything below the elbow and knee gone.
Blood spilled across the ground as the massive body convulsed violently, his voice breaking into raw agony.
Alfred stepped forward and brought his foot down on Blockbuster’s head.
“Silence,” he said.
“Do not bring further disgrace upon yourself.” The force of the stomp cracked the cement beneath him, and the giant’s body went still Alfred lifted his gaze.
Blockbuster’s men did not hesitate.
They turned and ran, panic overriding any loyalty they had.
Nightwing’s voice came next.
“You killed him!!” Alfred turned his head toward the hero.
“No,” he replied.
“I crippled him, then rendered him unconscious.” Nightwing stepped forward, anger clear in his stance.
“You didn’t need to go that far.” Tarantula, on the other hand, watched with visible interest, her gaze fixed on Alfred.
“Did you really deal with the biggest mob boss in bludhaven for seafood?” “I came for the seafood, yes” Alfred answered.
“What happened to him was the result of his own choices.
He wished to lead by example.
I am simply the tool he chose.” Tarantula narrowed her eyes.
“Are you serious?” “Of course,” Alfred said.
He straightened his jacket.
“My work here is done.
I must return to Gotham.
It was a pleasure meeting you both.
Have a good night.” His body dissolved into smoke and vanished, leaving only silence behind.
Nightwing stared at the empty space for a moment, then said.
“Somehow, Gotham still managed to produce another unique freak.” Tarantula glanced at Blockbuster’s broken body.
“He should’ve finished it,” she said.
“Would’ve done the world a favor.” Nightwing shot her a sharp look, but she had already turned away, walking off into the night without another word.
——— It was exactly midnight when Alfred returned to Gotham.
He manifested directly inside the Penguin’s office.
His chubby ugly master was nowhere to be seen.
At the same time, he could hear echo of chaos within the Iceberg Lounge.
Screams and crashing sounds.
“Someone still dares to fight here?” he muttered with a surprised tone.
Alfred turned without haste and walked out of the office.
Within less than a minute, he reached the restaurant floor and the scene before him was unacceptable.
The place was in ruins.
Tables overturned or shattered, the floor cracked in multiple places, sections of the walls torn apart.
Plants had burst through the ground and walls, while a few small fires burned around.
At the center of it all, Batgirl and Supergirl were engaged in battle against Livewire, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn.
The Penguin’s guards lay scattered across the floor, unmoving.
Whether unconscious or dead, Alfred could not immediately determine.
And behind a flipped table, the Penguin crouched, peeking over the edge with a furious expression.
“These bitches are destroying everything,” he muttered under his breath.
Alfred walked casually toward the Penguin while observing the destruction all around him.
“Master,” he said, “I was not informed we had scheduled such a destructive performance tonight.
May I inquire as to what I have missed?” The Penguin snapped his head toward him.
Relief flooded his face instantly.
“Alfred!” he said, almost breathless.
“Those three lunatics showed up and started annoying customers.
I told them to calm down, and they trashed the place.
Then the hero brats arrived and somehow made it worse.
They’re destroying everything, you must stop them.” “I understand,” Alfred replied.
He stepped past the Penguin’s cover and walked toward the center of the chaos with deliberate calm.
As he approached, he began clapping, the sound was loud enough to be heard despite the noise and to draw attention.
“Ladies,” he said, “pray restrain yourselves from such unseemly conduct.
It scarcely accords with the dignity expected of gentlewomen in public.
Furthermore, I daresay you have already inflicted quite a sufficient degree of disorder for one evening.” The fight halted.
Every eye turned toward him.
Harley’s expression changed immediately.
“Shit!
Alfy is pissed at us!” Poison Ivy’s gaze became worried.
“This is bad” “We’re trying to help!” Batgirl said quickly while pointing to the trio.
“They’re the ones causing trouble.” Supergirl and Livewire both looked confused by the reactions he was receiving.
“Who the hell is this bozo?” Livewire said.
“Does he work for that ugly fat midget?” Harley groaned.
“Girl, ya really shouldn’t piss Alfy off more than he already is.
He’s a butler.” Livewire blinked.
“A butler?
What the hell is wrong with you?” Alfred continued walking toward them.
“Am I to understand,” he said, “that not one among you is in a position to make proper restitution for the damages so liberally incurred this evening?” “Is he asking for compensation?
And what with the weird speech?” Livewire said confused, then laughed.
“He really is a bozo.” Alfred’s gaze shifted briefly upward to the second floor balcony, where a woman in a bunny costume stood watching the scene unfold.
“Jay,” he said, “be so kind as to contact the police.
We currently have three offenders detained.” “Of course, Mr.
Alfred,” she replied.
Livewire’s patience snapped.
“I’ve had enough of this,” she said, raising her hand.
Supergirl tensed, about to move, Batgirl grabbed her arm and said “Wait.” The lightning came down violently, striking Alfred directly.
Livewire smirked.
Then frowned.
Then became confused.
Alfred was still walking forward with the same pace.
The electricity crawled across him but had no effect on him.
Livewire pushed harder, increasing the output, forcing more power into the attack, but nothing changed.
By the time Alfred stood directly in front of her, she was completely drained.
“How?” she managed.
Alfred regarded her.
“What kind of butler would I be,” he said, “if such a trivial inconvenience could prevent me from completing my duties?” Livewire said with a confused face “What?” His hand moved.
A simple backhand to the face and Livewire collapsed instantly on the floor, unconscious.
Alfred turned his attention to the remaining two.
“Now,” he said with measured composure, “might I inquire whether you would prefer to comport yourselves as respectable ladies and submit, with becoming grace, to the escort of the police, or whether I am to conclude that a more instructive arrangement shall be required on my part?” Poison Ivy raised her hands.
“I surrender.” Harley slowly lowered her mallet.
“Alfy,” she said, almost pleading, “For old times’ sake… let us go?” “No,” Alfred replied.
Harley made a face.
“Ew.
You’re so cruel.” Alfred turned away from them and looked toward Batgirl and Supergirl, both of whom stood tense, watching him carefully.
He began walking toward them.
Batgirl spoke first.
“As I said, we came to help.
Not to cause trouble.” “I have been informed,” Alfred replied.
“However, I cannot permit you to depart after all of this.” Supergirl frowned.
“You’re not intending to call the cops on us, are you?
This place isn’t completely destroyed because of us.” “Of course not,” Alfred said.
He stopped in front of them.
“But what kind of establishment would we be,” he continued, “if we allowed you to leave without showing you proper hospitality after all the effort you put in?” A brief pause.
“You are both invited to dine tonight, I shall do the cooking myself.
Furthermore, you will have a permanent complimentary table here.
Any future visits will be fully covered.” Batgirl blinked.
Supergirl stared.
The Penguin “huh?” Harley immediately protested.
“That’s not fair!
We get the cops, and they get free food you cook?
How is that justice?!
No, how can you all yourself a butler?!!”