Chapter Text
So many things had gone wrong. Jim Gordon had died. Bruce had failed to kill Superman. His secret identity was exposed. And he'd become some kind of project for the most dangerous being on the planet.
Bitterly, Bruce realized that Clark was right. He did need to change, to evolve into something better if he was going to survive this.
“Master Bruce,” Alfred started, but Bruce didn’t bother looking up from his screen, frantically making plans. He’d spoken to Selina, he’d hidden resources all over the city. He'd deal with Alfred soon enough.
Despite every preparation, he was still at a massive disadvantage. Alfred had driven to the bridge and confirmed that Superman had removed all the kryptonite Bruce had been carrying. There was more hidden, but it wasn’t enough to kill, and not all of it was in the city.
And then there was the matter of his mind. Bruce glanced at the cowl, hating himself for the weakness he had without it.
There was a battle to prepare for, and Bruce didn't even know how much time he had until Superman returned. The Kryptonian had promised he would, soon. And Bruce knew he would, he was just building up the anticipation. Probably even letting him prepare.
“You were magnificent on the bridge. A hunter, a killer. I saw it in your eyes.”
Bruce seethed. If he had been, he wouldn't be in this fucking mess.
The phone rang, and both of them ignored it.
"Have we considered the possibility that we could just leave?" Alfred asked, but Bruce knew. Aside from his own pride, Superman considered himself a hunter. There was nowhere on Earth or beyond he wouldn't look to kill Bruce for running.
And he wasn't leaving. The Gotham Project had barely begun, and Bruce would never give up Batman.
"I'm not abandoning Gotham." Bruce couldn't believe Alfred had even suggested it. “But I’ve bought you a plane ticket.” He rasped, voice hoarse from the bruise. “Once you land, there are instructions to find someone that would give you a new identity-”
Alfred scoffed. “Master Bruce-”
Bruce spoke louder, faster over him. “-money too, you’d never have to worry about that. I picked London, it’s massive and you could go anywhere from there. You should start packing.” Bruce held out the boarding pass to Alfred. “I’ve called a car-”
“Bruce, I know you're worried,” Alfred said, slowly, in a tone that Bruce had learned to despise. It was his tone to talk Bruce out of things, his tone for suggesting that would just fucking get him killed.
Not this time. Bruce would never again get anyone to help him with this. This was his mess.
“I want you to leave.” Bruce refused to look at him, deleting all his communications with Selina, and burying evidence of the others. Superman’s threat rang in his mind, and so did Gordon’s autopsy report.
Bones had been broken, fixed, broken. It had to be done carefully, to make unique breaks without pulverizing the bone, and the bruising varied in age. So Superman waited before causing more pain. He was a patient torturer, that had consoled Gordon’s child on national television.
“I’m not leaving,” Alfred said firmly, and Bruce slammed his damaged hand against the table.
“You think I'm asking you? Get the fuck out!”
Alfred sighed, in a long-suffering way. "If I listened to you, Master Bruce, I would've been gone the night your parents died. I have worked for you, your whole life, through everything-"
"Did you hear what he said? He will kill you just to make a point-"
"-and I will never leave you." Alfred finished calmly like he hadn’t read Gordon’s autopsy report. As if he hadn't been here, four hours ago when Superman got rid of their kryptonite in ten minutes.
The landline rang again and Bruce immediately hung up. He finally turned, walking over to Alfred. “Listen to me.” He forced his breathing under control, forced his tone to even. “What is wrong with you? I cannot protect you. Don’t make me responsible for-”
Alfred’s expression did not change. “I cannot leave you to face him alone.” Bruce breathed out shakily, all his training crumbling.
“Go away.” Bruce couldn’t do this with him. Couldn’t forgive Alfred for making him weaker.
“You’re afraid, I know-”
“I am not afraid for me! Don’t you understand-” Bruce scoffed when Alfred squeezed his shoulder, pushing off Alfred’s hand.
“You can do this, beat him.”
“Not with you here!” Bruce shouted. He stepped away from him, trying desperately to make him understand what Selina had. “If you cared about me at all-”
“I wouldn’t leave you here with no one with you.” Alfred crossed his arms. “So, what do you need me to do?”
“Alfred-” Bruce’s eyes narrowed when the damn phone rang again.
“No caller ID. I suspect it might be our new, unwanted guest.” Guests were invited. Guests didn't threaten to remove limbs from their hosts. Sometimes Bruce despised Alfred's strange humour, and stranger sensibilities.
"Shall I answer?"
“It’s not him.” Bruce finally ground out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “After the first two tries, he would’ve shown up here to irritate me in person.”
“Wayne Tower,” Alfred answered it, ignoring Bruce’s glare. “Who am I speaking to? It’s a Miss Lois Lane.”
Bruce frowned, holding out a hand for it. He knew that name, somehow…
The woman’s voice was sombre, uncertain. “-for calling. I used to be married to Clark Kent. I figured out who you are, and I’m calling to warn you.”
Bruce’s eyes widened, listening intently. “Warn me about what?” Alfred stared at him.
“About him,” Lois said quickly. “He's a monster, and he tries to call it love. He will hurt you, and he's always one step ahead. I don't know how much you know-"
“I know what he is. I tried to kill him,” Bruce said, making Lois laugh bitterly.
“Oh I know, that’s why he…I’m sorry, but I still had to call. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t say anything.” Her voice was pained.
Bruce chewed on his cut lip, making fresh blood well in it. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
"He always goes after what you care about most.” Her voice became empty again. “For me, my sister. He always…”
Bruce felt a deep foreboding as he tucked the phone under his jaw and shoulder, searching up Lois Lane. He barely heard her next words, scrolling down an article about how Lana Lane’s body had been mailed in pieces to the Daily Planet.
Precisely cut pieces. Like a laser… Bruce turned to Alfred, who’d read the article over his shoulder.
His butler looked disinterested and Bruce couldn’t stop his heart from squeezing.
“-I’m gonna try something to help you. It’s not much but-”
“It’s okay,” Bruce said softly, he could hold this woman no grudges for how she’d acted. They’d gotten married after Clark had mailed pieces of her sister to her workplace.
How the fuck was he supposed to survive this? Bruce should have remembered that having no one was an advantage. He wiped the blood off his chin. “I’m going to make him suffer, I promise.”
Alfred smiled, and Bruce wanted to force him to leave.
"I hope you can, Vengeance." Lois said, some life back in her voice. “He has weaknesses.”
“Kryptonite."
“Not just that, they’re not always what you’d expect. I survived because of his obsession with family. That's all he really wants."
It didn’t stop him from carving up your sister.
“I have to go now.”
“Are you in danger?” Bruce asked, even though he knew he was better off not caring about her. He didn't know if Clark would kill her or spare her.
“I’m never going to be safe while he’s around,” Lois said sadly. “You won’t be able to contact me again on this number. Take care of yourself, Bruce Wayne.” With that, she hung up, and Bruce wondered if he should have insisted more on her protecting herself.
He stared at Alfred. "You're staying?" His tone was grudging, furious, but Alfred looked relieved.
"Always, Master Bruce."
Bruce breathed in deeply. "Then I need you to promise me a few things."