The phone rang quickly, and Alfred answered softly.
"Hello, Chief Gordon, this is Wayne Manor. There's a young man—let's say 'unexpectedly'—in Bruce's bedroom… and he's eaten my eight-hundred-dollar steak."
"Wait—"
Axel hadn't intended to be bothered by Gordon's alarm, but a smirk spread across his face. "You gave me the steak, didn't you?"
Alfred shot Axel a sharp look, then returned to the phone.
"Don't worry, he hasn't harmed Bruce. Yes, I have him under control. You're on your way? Good. I'll wait here."
Hanging up, Alfred spread his hands at Axel.
"You know, if you hadn't snuck in, I wouldn't have lost my steak, right?"
"That's a fair point!" Axel chuckled, finishing the steak with a contented sigh before showing the empty plate to Alfred.
"Do I need to clean this up myself, Alfred?"
"No, just stand there and don't move."
Axel relaxed, stretching. "Did you cook this yourself? Impressive. Truly excellent. Pity about the timing, though—next time I'll try the soup and dessert. Busy day, urgent matters… time to go."
As he reached for his travel bag, Alfred's frown deepened. A bullet shot landed precisely by Axel's foot.
"Not everyone gets to taste my cooking," Alfred said dryly. "Appreciate it, and don't make me shoot."
"Appreciate what? Your cooking or my life? Don't be silly—I don't care about my own life. And stop calling me 'young man.' I'm Axel, Axel of Downton Manor."
Axel casually slung his bag over his shoulder and headed toward the Desert Eagle. Suddenly, Alfred moved like lightning, his old body covering ground with surprising speed. Before Axel could react, Alfred grabbed him, slammed him to the floor, and pressed a knee into his lower back.
"Dislocated! Dislocated!" Alfred barked.
Axel tapped the floor with his free hand, grinning wryly. "I surrender. You win, Alfred. Boxing champion's belt is yours."
"Don't joke. Wait for the police, or tell me everything! Who sent you? What's your objective? Is it Bruce?"
"Damn it, I can't explain. You wouldn't believe it unless you saw it yourself."
Alfred's confidence didn't waver. The young man he'd pinned showed no sign of formal training. He shouldn't have survived combat or interrogation—but Axel had.
As Alfred pondered, Axel struggled twice, then sighed and looked at the distant Desert Eagle.
"I'll leave my gun with you for now. I'll retrieve it after handling my business."
Alfred blinked in astonishment. Where had Axel gone? One moment here, the next vanished. Breathing deeply, he picked up the Desert Eagle.
"Axel? Is there really a Downton Manor in Gotham?"
Meanwhile, at the Iceberg Lounge, Oswald watched in disbelief as Axel's body disappeared again, spontaneously combusting.
What an enviable ability…
But admiration was secondary. The club had to be secured. Two consecutive incidents meant Falcone would be furious.
"Get me a microphone!" Oswald barked to the nearest subordinate.
He grabbed one near the stage and addressed Sabatino's men.
"That bastard Axel has disappeared! Do you still want to fight? Remember, Sabatino and Boss Falcone are in this club! Put down your guns and fight with fists if you dare. I'll overlook today's mistakes—but if anyone keeps shooting, I guarantee death! Move fast and get out alive. Start!"
The screech of the microphone slammed to the ground made everyone cover their ears. Once hearing returned, the gunshots faded. Sabatino's men fled in chaos.
Oswald limped toward Minus Forty-Four Degrees, sweating. The real trouble wasn't the mess in front of him—it was Falcone.
Rushing into the private room, he began apologizing.
"Boss Falcone, I've failed your trust again. Someone… someone who seems to resurrect from the dead attacked the club. I never imagined such a thing…"
"I already know," Falcone interrupted. "This situation is special. Not your fault. Ordinary people couldn't stop him. I won't blame you. Wait for the unkillable man to return. When he appears, bring him to me. This is my problem, theirs, and mine alone."
Oswald looked at Sabatino, utterly bewildered. "They"?
Axel had backers—powerful enough that even Falcone had to negotiate seriously. Sabatino had provoked people far beyond his own power. Even if he survived, he would pay.
Oswald left, secretly relieved. Falcone, holding a glass of wine, silently watched the remaining men. Chief Savage and Sabatino immediately stood when Falcone looked their way.
"Sabatino, where are the Ukrainian girls you promised? Aren't you taking me to see them?"
"Don't rush, Chief Savage. I'll take you to them right away."
The two left with the women, leaving only Victor and Falcone. Before exiting, Falcone's daughter cast a lingering glance back.
Ever since she learned Wraith had made her father wary, she wanted to see this Wraith for herself. And who hated her father more than she did?