It was in exactly that undignified state — hanging over the abyss, trembling and groaning from the pain pulsing through every part of my body — that Alfred found me.
Without wasting time on conversation, the old butler trotted over to me at a surprising pace for his age, hauled my small body up onto the metal platform in one swift motion, and quickly checked my vitals. Eyes, pulse, and mouth — in case I had swallowed my tongue. Then he quickly ran to the medical bay, returned with a first-aid case, and found himself slightly at a loss.
There were no wounds on me, I wasn't coughing anything up, I was breathing without difficulty — I was simply lying there, twitching and groaning. But the confusion quickly took a back seat. An injection of painkiller, smelling salts under the nose, and attempts to understand what was happening to me.
— It'll... pass... soon. — I barely managed to force out. And remarkably, Alfred actually backed off — stood beside me and waited for that "soon" of mine to arrive.
It arrived a few minutes later. The pain rapidly began to subside, the muscle cramps stopped, and my consciousness cleared completely.
— Phew. — I exhaled and relaxed onto my back — Thank you, Alfred.
— Always a pleasure, Master Damian, though my contribution to your recovery is minimal. Would you care to explain?
I shrugged — why not tell him? They won't be able to stop me from going down there anyway, and perhaps they'll even decide to help — I just need to figure out exactly what form that help should take. I'm managing perfectly well on my own — I only nearly lost my mind from the agony.
— Down below there's a rather excellent green liquid, and its fumes have a good effect on me, followed by a bad effect on me. I was trying to determine whether I could shift the balance of good and bad in favor of the former. So I was finding out where my current limits are.
— Isn't that rather risky? And is it truly worth your effort?
— Uh... probably.
— Probably?
— Well — if something is hard, it means you're growing. The Lazarus energy is hard for me to absorb, which means I grow when I do it. At the very least I know for certain that I become stronger when I interact with it. And that, in fact, is where my training will begin from this point on.
— Don't you have a vacation? — Alfred raised an eyebrow.
— I do, — I sighed sadly — But what can I do? I'll have to keep getting stronger while the enemy sleeps.
— Hm, I had the impression that it was precisely for the sake of your childhood that you came to this house, under your father's wing. Was I mistaken?
— No, you weren't. Oh — you're concerned about me right now, aren't you? Thank you, that's appreciated. I always wanted to escape — but not only from the training. I wanted to escape from the life imposed on me. From the ideals imposed on me. From the goal imposed on me. But now, having escaped all of that, finding myself free, I realize that my upbringing didn't go to waste — even accounting for the memories of my past life — and much of what I disliked has become a part of me.
— Does that trouble you? — the butler inquired sympathetically.
— Um, not really, — I was taken aback — It's part of me — what I am, or what I've become, either way. It's familiar. And I'm not going to spend every day training.
— Then I suggest we leave the cave and attend to sleep. — Alfred proposed.
Glancing at the edge of the bridge, at the black void where the Lazarus Pit hid, I decided to agree. I had no desire to experience that pain again.
— You've brought Damian in? — a hoarse voice asked from the phone in Alfred's hand.
— Yes, however the boy made his way to the Lazarus Pit, and this had unhealthy consequences for him.
— Then he shouldn't be left alone in the Batcave going forward. — the hero of Gotham concluded.
— Perhaps it would make sense to do the opposite? — Alfred carefully suggested — Give him freedom of action and observe. From my conversations with Master Damian, I can conclude that the boy is very self-aware — and it may be far more beneficial to show complete trust.
— ...possibly, — Batman was compelled to admit — However he grew up among assassins; his worldview is distorted. I have been given the chance to protect him from the fate of a butcher, and I don't want to squander it.
— Then all the more reason to understand what your son is truly like.
— Am I allowed to go down to the cave on my own now? — I asked Alfred over breakfast — Or do I need to break the door down again?
— One would prefer to avoid such drastic measures. Given the state in which I found you yesterday, the idea of letting you go again without supervision seems shortsighted.
— Pff, come with me then, — I waved my hand — You can keep an eye on things.
— You're not even denying that you intend to attempt something dangerous to your life again?
— No-no, nothing dangerous to my life — yesterday I was testing my limits, I went a little further than I should have, and now I know where to stop.
— Hm, that is an acceptable answer, however if your life is in danger we will leave the Batcave and you will lose the right to visit it on your own.
— Deal. — my thumb shot toward the ceiling.
We descended to the cave, I checked the data the Batcomputer had gathered overnight, found nothing, and headed toward the storage area with the butler following at my heels. I threw on a harness of straps for working at height, grabbed three flashlights, attached two grappling guns to the sole bridge above the chasm, and clipped the third to my own belt.
— When I start screaming, hit the lift button. As you saw yesterday, it passes on its own — so there'll be no danger to my life if you react in time. So if I'm not screaming, don't pull me up.
My sneakered feet fixed to the rough wall and I — under the mildly surprised gaze of the butler — descended once more into the flashlight-lit abyss. I had memorized the approximate point where I'd started feeling bad — there were landmarks in the form of several rock outcroppings — and I stopped some dozen meters before reaching them.
I took a couple of breaths and began to sink into a trance, and roughly halfway through I suddenly realized how to improve the efficiency. I simply detached from the wall and hung on the two lines. Much more comfortable this way — no need to constantly keep reattaching to the wall.
After about ten seconds I entered a trance. Deep breaths drew the Lazarus Pit's fumes into my body, where they converted to energy in my lungs, were taken up by chakra, and distributed throughout the organism. A minute, ten minutes, half an hour — and I was rudely yanked out of the trance by a sudden upward jolt.
— Come on, Alfred, I told you to only pull me up when I screamed. — my small body, dangling over the abyss, waved its arms in righteous indignation.
— I needed to check that you were alright. — the butler explained composedly.
— Then check every hour at least. — I threw up my hands and descended again, only to be equally unceremoniously hauled upward after the indicated hour.
— Training time is over, Master Damian — other duties at the manor await me.
— Then go, I don't mind. — I waved my hand — Stop by in a couple of hours.
He considered this, assessed my healthy appearance, and displayed the highest degree of trust.
— I rely on your good judgment, Master Damian. — after which he left.
Since there was no longer a butler yanking me up, I had to set two timers on the grappling guns to pull me up after an hour and a half.
This continued for another three hours. I hung over the abyss, meditated, accustomed my body to the green energy, and stopped precisely when a dull, barely noticeable aching pain began to pulse through my entire body. Unpleasant — as if the whole body had started to itch, and you can't scratch it.
But aside from the sudden bone-deep itch, I felt wonderful. Lightness in the body, thoughts flying faster than light, a clear head, and spirits high. Walking around, suppressing the idiotic grin of a dazed teenager that keeps trying to spread across my face.
Then there was lunch-breakfast with father, during which I expressed the desire to expand my wardrobe but did not express the desire to go into the city.
Two hours later — spent by me designing a spinal implant — a tailor arrived, took measurements, and departed to sew clothing for me or find pieces in the right size. I didn't get the chance to ask which. Then I descended to the Batcave again, this time in Bruce's company.
And then the day ended. Can you believe it! I didn't see it coming myself.
And along with the sun that had set beyond the horizon, Batman vacated the cave — leaving me alone. No, really — Batman himself left a small child alone in his inner sanctum! As he had done more than once with other Robins... alright, there's nothing remarkable about it, I concede the point.
I sat in front of the implant model for another hour, and the computer notified me of a sudden match between the provided photographs and the face of a Gotham resident, caught by several surveillance cameras.
— Computer, display the data on the main screens. — I spoke in father's voice.
Several photographs lit up on the large monitors; the adjacent screens immediately displayed an interactive map of Gotham with a red dot marking the spot where the cameras had caught the face I was looking for.
Caught recently — well, just now actually — the alert had come to me only a couple of minutes ago.
I didn't drag my feet or deliberate for long. Went up to my room, changed from everyday clothes into League of Shadows attire, attached all the necessary weapon harnesses to my belt, pulled the hood over my head, covered the lower half of my face with a cloth mask, leaving only a narrow strip of eyes visible. And those too I hid behind colored lenses, so there'd be absolutely zero chance of anyone recognizing me. Smart? Smart!
— Alfred! — I bellowed at the top of my lungs throughout the entire manor, and immediately heard the sound of a broken plate from the direction of the kitchen. That's where I headed, finding the butler's displeased face. He was sweeping up fragments from the porcelain tile that lined the kitchen floor. A good choice for a kitchen — parquet would have been ruined within the first month, no matter how carefully Alfred cooked.
— I would ask you not to shout like that again, Master Damian, — the butler objected in displeasure, but the moment he raised his eyes and saw one hundred and forty centimeters of pure ninja standing before him, the displeasure in his voice grew considerably — Going somewhere?
— Sorry, got carried away, — I had to scratch the back of my head awkwardly so as not to break the image of the repentant — though I felt no shame — I'm going for a walk, get some fresh air, that's all. I was actually looking for you to give you a heads up.
— Hm, — Alfred raised an eyebrow and examined me carefully — I doubt I'd be able to stop you, so I'll simply ask that you not do anything your father wouldn't do. And thank you for the warning — I'm glad you're increasingly showing yourself to be a self-aware and sensible child.
— Oh, compliments — I like that, that's good. — I nodded importantly — If anything comes up I've borrowed... requisitioned one of father's communicators with a smartphone, so if something happens — call.
— Most certainly. Good luck. — the butler nodded, turned away for a moment to tip the collected fragments into the rubbish bag, and upon returning his gaze to my previous spot — found me there no longer, of course — He's just like his father.
Moving under the Rhythm, I calmly exited the manor into the back garden. A large back garden with neatly trimmed ornamental hedges, a perfectly even green lawn, and a dozen various sensors for every ten square meters. The last part I only knew because I had been digging around in the Batcomputer while mimicking father's voice.
A crescent moon already hung in the sky, along with only a couple dozen of the brightest stars — the rest of the sky was a sullen black and fell far short of the star-strewn canvas that could be observed in the unspoiled nature of Nanda Parbat. Sometimes you miss that sort of thing.
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