The gentle sound of water echoed softly near the river, the area unusually peaceful at least, as peaceful as the outskirts of Gotham could ever be. The surface of the river rippled calmly... until it didn't.
Without warning, a hand burst from beneath the water, shattering the stillness. The surface rippled violently as the figure fought to reach something solid. Fingers clawed at the muddy riverbank until they finally found purchase in the dirt.
A person emerged drenched, silent, his black clothing soaked and clinging to him like a second skin. His face was still hidden behind a dark veil, masking his identity from anyone who might be watching. He moved slowly, but steadily, forcing his body forward as he adjusted to the cold that gnawed at his bones.
"Well," he muttered, eyes narrowing as he glanced toward Gotham Harbor from the wooded area he now stood in, "at least that's one less thing I have to worry about."
As he slowly shifted his attention to his surroundings, Alfred realized he was deep in woodland trees stretching out in every direction, the hum of city life long behind him. He looked around, taking in the quiet isolation. Then he shook his head in annoyance, frustrated at the situation he'd gotten himself into.
There was no one to blame but himself no excuses for the stupid mistake he'd made.
Letting out a long breath, he stilled. The cold, the exhaustion, the mental strain—it all pressed down on him. But now wasn't the time to fall apart. He had to deal with the situation at hand.
"Damn it… I need some sleep," he muttered under his breath.
And in the blink of an eye, he vanished from the scene leaving behind no trace, as if he had never been there at all.
- - -
he sound of the door handle turning echoed through the quiet room, drawing both clones' attention toward the entrance. They glanced at the clock, trying to guess who would be coming in at this hour.
One clone quickly slipped down from the bed, moving with alertness, while the other remained casually in place, feigning normalcy.
As the door opened, a boy with black hair and glowing red eyes stepped inside. His clothes were completely soaked, dripping water onto the floor. His face carried a weary, almost annoyed expression.
"Well, someone finally decided to grace us with their glorious presence," the first clone remarked with exaggerated enthusiasm, clearly unimpressed.
The second clone, now halfway out from under the bed, arched an eyebrow. "Took you long enough."'
The real Alfred stared at them, clearly annoyed.
"Shut the fuck up. Both of you," he muttered, slamming the door shut behind him without even glancing in their direction.
"I need sleep. Not your imagined commentary," he added as he shoved past them, collapsing onto the bed with a half-exhausted, half-satisfied smile.
Both clones looked at him, sharing a knowing grin unbothered, almost amused. The real one had already fallen asleep without wasting a single second.
Outside the window, the first rays of sunlight crept over Gotham's skyline. Morning had arrived.
"Wake the fuck up, sleepyhead," one of the clones snapped, standing over the bed.
The other was already moving around the room, packing a school bag with mechanical precision books, notebooks, snacks, even a change of clothes everything someone might need for a full school day.
"Just five more minutes…" the real Alfred mumbled, trying to bury his face deeper into the pillow.
"Nope, not happening," the first clone said with growing annoyance. "You yourself said you had to attend this week's school function. Remember? The one you can't skip?"
He yanked the blanket halfway off Alfred, who groaned like the world was ending.
His sleep broken and his mood foul, Alfred muttered under his breath as he dragged himself into the classroom.
"Some days I seriously think the world should just end…"
His movements were sluggish, his expression hollow clearly running on fumes. The his attuited didn't help at all .
"Oh look, he didn't sleep at all," a few students whispered behind him, trying to be discreet.
But Alfred heard it all. His enhanced hearing picked up every word, every tone, every side glance. He just didn't care enough to respond. Saying anything would only raise questions he didn't want to answer—not when it might expose even a hint of his superhuman senses.
So he moved past them like a ghost, silent and half-aware, heading straight for his seat.
As Alfred reached his usual seat at the back of the classroom, his eyes landed on the black-haired boy standing next to it.
His expression dropped even further.
Letting out a long, exhausted sigh, he rubbed his temples.
"What do you want, Damian?" Alfred muttered as he slumped into his seat, voice flat and drained. He didn't even bother to hide his annoyance he just wanted this conversation over with as quickly as possible so he could get some sleep in peace.
"Well, I just wanted to know where you were last night," Damian said, his voice laced with that ever-familiar, irritating edge. His eyes locked onto Alfred, sharp and suspicious.
"I was home," Alfred replied flatly, not even bothering to look at him. He laid his head down on the desk and closed his eyes, clearly done with the conversation.
"Now go away."
But Damian didn't move away. Instead, he leaned in close to Alfred's ear and whispered,"I know our secret."