After a busy night, Batman left Gotham City, which had endured the baptism of darkness, in the Batmobile beneath the first light of dawn.
Following the country roads, he returned to the Batcave beneath the waterfall just as the first rays of sunlight appeared. The car's canopy slowly slid open, and Batman stepped out.
He undid the folding mechanical gauntlet on his hand, and a bullet head dropped from it. Batman bent down and picked up the bullet.
Looking down at the pockmarked dents in his chest armor, he shook his head and walked forward, removing his cowl and placing it on the rack.
It seemed... something was missing today...
Bruce Wayne frowned, picked up a makeup wipe to remove the black eyeshadow around his eyes, and looked at the silent elevator.
Alfred had not come down today. Bruce hurriedly removed his armor, put on a white bathrobe, and headed for the elevator. At the same time, he turned on his phone and checked the situation inside Wayne Estate.
Sure enough, people were chatting in the living room. Alfred was entertaining a guest.
Bruce breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought Alfred was sick, considering the old man was no longer young.
Though they were master and servant in name, Alfred was Bruce's adoptive father in all but blood, the elder he could least do without and the companion who had always supported him.
But if Alfred heard that, he would certainly pull a long face and say with faint disdain, "I do not need someone who cannot even take care of himself worrying about my old age."
Stepping out of the elevator and walking through the corridor into his bedroom, Bruce pushed open the door and called out lazily:
"Alfred! Where's my breakfast?"
He looked like a decadent