"I suppose I'll have to adjust dinner slightly," Alfred said, more to himself than to us.
I always had immense respect for Alfred. I hadn't read the comics, but from what my brain managed to gather in my past life, a picture emerged of an incredibly loyal, professional, and caring assistant. There would be no Batman without his butler.
"It's really not necessary, Alfred. I've already had dinner, so I'm not hungry," I tried to wave it off.
"Thank you for your concern, Master Damian, but hospitality requires it," the old man spread his hands.
Fine then. I just shrugged. Chakra had accelerated my metabolism by about one and a half times, allowing me to eat a bit more than normal people; another dinner wouldn't be a particular challenge.
"But first, allow me to show you to your room."
"I already have a room?"
When did that happen? Just a minute ago, you didn't even know I'd show up on your doorstep. Or did you? Did you look into the future? Or read it in the cards?
"Any room on the second floor of the mansion can become it," Alfred shrugged. "Unfortunately, for such a large house, there are too few inhabitants."
Ah, right. This was a magnificent three-story palace in the Renaissance style, albeit a dark, Gothic one. It was clearly too large for two men and the occasionally visiting guy named Dick Grayson.
Feeling my father's gaze on my back, I followed Alfred. We climbed the magnificent marble staircase to the second floor, finished in dark red wood, and soon found ourselves in a fairly large room with a queen-sized bed, a wall-sized TV, a coffee table in the center, and two doors on the sides.
"I suggest choosing this one. On the right is the dressing room, on the left the bathroom. The toilet is in the same place. A jacuzzi is included. Did you bring your things?"
"Yes, the bag stayed in the back seat of the car, nothing else," I nodded, looking around the chambers.
My room in Nanda Parbat was, of course, richly decorated, but it didn't reach this level. A crystal chandelier on the ceiling, everything in wood, seemingly from a single solid piece, a magnificent soft carpet that I was afraid to step on with shoes, and wide windows. I definitely like it.
Well, who am I kidding? I don't care where I live, as long as it's comfortable. I also don't want to strain Alfred; the old man has already endured a lot over the years of serving Bruce. Actually, not years, but decades.
"Then I will prepare dinner and then collect your things. You don't need them urgently, do you?"
"No, there's mostly secondary weapons in there," I replied, looking at the huge plasma screen.
"Secondary weapons?"
"Oh, I didn't mention it when I introduced myself," I replied with a bit of feigned pathos and looked the elderly man in the eye. My voice became a bit more solemn, a couple of tones lower to sound with a touch of gloom; I put a bloodlust in my eyes, arched my eyebrows, and frowned just slightly. "I am Damian Wayne, the biological grandson of Ra's al Ghul, the heir and future head of the League of Shadows."
Oh, that worked! Alfred couldn't hide his surprise; his eyebrows shot up, his eyes widened slightly, and a shiver ran through his body. But he immediately composed himself.
"Ahem, you have distinguished ancestors, Master Damian. Any other wishes?"
Okay, higher voice, a ton of naivety and innocence.
"Can a night butterfly be called here?"
Heh-heh-heh. Alfred's eyebrow twitched in irritation, but overall he held firm.
"Don't you think your age is inappropriate for such requests?"
"You're right, but I need to practice in advance to be ready when the moment comes. Besides, I like looking at bare female breasts."
"Nevertheless, I believe it is too early for you to touch upon such matters. On that note, I shall leave you. If you need anything, use the telephone on the wall."
Alfred pointed with his palm to a white phone hanging on the wall near the door and left the room. In an irritated state, I should note.
So, what's the first thing to do after getting into the house of Bruce Wayne himself? Go to the Batcave, of course!
Deep breath in, breath out. Send chakra through the whole body at extreme speed, warm up the muscles and ligaments, speed up the mind.
"Haaa..." A small blue cloud escaped my mouth.
Concentrate, hear the world, feel its rhythm, synchronize the heartbeat. Now, movement. Smooth, flowing, natural, in harmony with the world. And at that same moment, synchronize the chakra with the heartbeat and the environment.
Rhythm.
Goosebumps ran over my body, and it became a bit soft. Great. I'm in the Rhythm. With a leisurely pace, I approached the door, and with a smooth movement, I opened it and went out into the corridor. The sound of the latch clicking only caught the attention of Alfred, who had just reached the stairs. The butler turned around, looked right through me at the door, and noting that it had only just closed, headed towards the kitchen.
Yep, I'm invisible. Well, not exactly; it's more like I'm simply not noticed, like people don't notice others passing by. I blur in the perception of others because my body is synchronized with the world. I honestly found the name of the technique in one of the fanfics I read, but it perfectly describes the essence.
In fact, almost all martial arts masters can do something similar. On a slightly smaller scale than me, but they can. Batman approaches thugs from the shadows. This is the same thing, but an order of magnitude cooler.
There are downsides, of course. No sudden movements or touching living beings, so it's essentially useless for combat. You could come up with something, of course, but you can't fight from stealth.
Any sensor or video camera will spot me, so it's also useless for infiltration. Only for playing tricks on people. Sad.
Based on the few movies, the entrance to the Batcave should be behind some fireplace or cabinet. But having gone down to the first floor, luck smiled upon me. A grim Bruce Wayne, with a measured step, walked out of the room smelling of food and headed to the right wing of the building.
How could one not want to follow in such a situation? I didn't know, so I followed.
The most eligible bachelor in all of Gotham reached one of the living rooms, approached a bookshelf, and with clearly practiced movements, pulled four books on different shelves. Absolutely silently, part of the cabinet moved back and went into the wall, opening a passage into the darkness.
At this moment, I caught up with my father and stood behind his back, barely managing to slip through the secret door after the man and not get caught by the piece of wall returning to its place.
The corridor was short, literally a couple of meters, and then a spiral stone staircase began.
I'm sure there are all possible sensors along the way, but at the moment they were triggering on both me and Bruce, which meant they were ignored. After a full three minutes of descent—I nearly fell out of the Rhythm three times due to uneven steps—we found ourselves in that very cave.
The first thing that caught my attention was the rustling and stirring overhead. Looking up, I saw the figures of bats in the darkness, clinging to hundreds and hundreds of short stalactites. Yes, I see better in the dark than a normal person, though I'm still far from a cat.
I wonder, does he feed them? I would feed them; who wouldn't want an exotic pet?
The cave was spacious. Really spacious. About the size of the mansion above ground, if not larger. Standard stalactites hung from the ceiling, among which the bats rustled; the walls were uneven and natural; and right in the middle, a huge space was divided in half by a chasm. Very deep and in places very wide. On the wall near the ceiling hung a huge spotlight illuminating the only bridge across the abyss, on the other side of which Batman's fleet and, I suspect, a garage were located.
Directly in front of the cave entrance was a three-level metal platform. On the farthest and highest stood a plane; on the middle were spare parts for that plane; and on the closest to the entrance, a room for a supercomputer had been carved into the wall.
On the other side of the chasm, where the garage was located, three paths diverged.
One led to the training area, with barbells, punching bags, and exercise machines. The second led to a staircase to another platform with superhero suits, memorabilia, Batman's trophies, and to my surprise, a whole collection of armor from different nations. My father turns out to be quite a collector.
The third path led to the laboratories, probably; there was a turn there, so details weren't visible, but a piece of a table with a microscope was. Batman has his own lab, right? And the medical post is probably there too.
Meanwhile, my father turned into the supercomputer room and settled comfortably into the central chair.
"Computer," his quiet, calm voice sounded.
The screens lit up, each showing its own image. Gotham news feeds, world news feeds, completed modeling of experiments on possible alloys for armor, collected dossiers on some Young Justice, photographic materials on the investigation of the attack on socialite Samantha Vanaver—an unsuccessful one, I must say. Reports on cases in Arkham, a list of heroes for joining the Justice League? Do you guys have interviews there? Is being a hero not enough?
I caught all this in the few seconds Bruce was getting into a working mood. As soon as his fingers began tapping on the keyboard, dossiers on Talia and Ra's al Ghul began appearing on the screen.
And then he stared at the screen for about ten minutes. He hardly blinked.
"Haaa..." the terror of Gotham exhaled in defeat and slumped in the chair.
He looks kind of uncertain. I'm not exactly his first ward. I know for sure about Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and... Tim Drake, I think. Ahem, quite a few young boys for one adult man... okay, I agree, the joke is worn out, and I'm basically proof of Bruce's normal sexual interest.
It seems I'm a special case after all, or it's all about my mother, or my grandfather.
Something beeps, and the man who was slumping just a second ago turned into a focused warrior. Precise movements, a glint in his eyes, and a suit quickly being put on. Seriously, putting on armor made of a bunch of metal plates and seemingly leather in a minute is cool. Dammit, it takes me just as long to put on my League of Shadows uniform.
There he was, Batman. In all his glory. He stepped to the edge and calmly jumped, instantly spreading his cape. Three meters of flight and exactly into the retracting roof of the Batmobile. If I didn't know no one was here, I'd think he was showing off. But it was with style and taste, yeah.
The Batmobile's engine purred almost imperceptibly, making my jaw drop, and the vehicle, with tires barely screeching, headed somewhere into the darkness of the tunnel.
Well, it makes sense overall. If you move in a roaring car, you can forget about stealth. But he's got a real turbine under the hood! A helicopter one, mind you! It should roar so loud you couldn't stand near it without ear protection. And here, a barely noticeable purr.
Okay, since they left a child alone in such a cool place, I have to live up to the stereotypes. Pull off something extraordinary. But first, the supercomputer!
The leather chair welcomed me like its own. Soft, but not very comfortable, as it was clearly adjusted to my father's dimensions.