The Apprentice

Finding The Right People

"Looks like your boy got us good, huh?"

Superman chances a smile, reaching down to help Batman get on his feet. The dark knight stays stone-faced, lost in thought. "I guess you trained him too well."

Batman, regretfully leaning on his friend for support, shakes his head. "No such thing." His arm pokes out of the depths of his cape, holding Slade's throwing knife.

"I trained him just enough."

Superman eyes the knife momentarily, his smile wavering. After an awkward pause, Batman sighs.

"Look closer, Superman."

The iconic hero complies, and his eyes widen. "Oh gosh, wow. So this means everything he's done—"

"Has not been of his free will, yes." Batman concludes, tucking the knife back into his utility belt. "I was a fool."

Superman's shoulders drop, his chest tightening in empathy. "You couldn't have known--"

"I should have known." Batman hisses through his teeth, and Superman has to pull his friend's arm over his shoulder to keep him from falling over. The dark knight works to control his breathing, still recovering from the knockout gas lingering in the air.

Superman's eyebrows furrow. He itches to say something, anything, to ease this tension, but his tongue feels too heavy to move. He takes a deep breath, straightening his posture and puffing out his chest.

"Look on the bright side, Batman." He finally says, a thin layer of confidence hopefully masking his unease. "You know now. You can help him!"

Batman doesn't respond, his gaze distant, but his body noticeably relaxes. Superman smiles in genuine relief. "See, there you go! Let's get you home, so you can get that big brain of yours working!"

Batman flinches as his feet no longer connect with the ground. The man of steel is holding him in a princess carry: one arm supporting his back, and the other under his legs. Without warning, Superman bends his knees and takes off.

Batman grabs bunches of Superman's shirt fabric instinctively, then forces himself to let go. His words ooze with menace.

"Cl—Superman... what do you think you're doing?"

Superman adjusts his grip, gaining height and speed with every passing second. The wind whipping past their ears causes them to yell at one another to be heard.

"Your boy stole your jet, right?! And this is the easiest way for me to carry people while I'm flying! Please bear with it, we'll be out of sight soon! Your 'cool guy' reputation is safe!"

Humiliated groans mingle with the whistling wind. Superman laughs heartily.

The trip lasted over twenty minutes. Ask either superhero whether that's long or short, and you won't get the same answer. Their footsteps echo off the cave walls.

"You see? Easy." Superman beams, his long stride matching Batman's perfectly. His darker partner grumbles sourly, unwilling to restart that conversation. His steps falter for a brief moment, not unnoticed by the man of steel. "Are you alright?"

"It's here."

"What's here?"

"The plane. It's... here."

Batman had already taken off towards it when Superman finally wraps his head around what he was saying. Batman peers in through the passenger window, but his gaze drifts straight through the empty cockpit to the other side, landing on an unexpected shadow on the ground. He motions for Superman to be careful, then circles slowly around the front of the plane.

He chokes on his breath.

Alfred lies face down on the ground, his limp hand reaching out towards the supercomputer. 

Batman's fists couldn't decide on clenching or unclenching, and settle on twitching back and forth between the two. In that instant, Batman knows to harden his heart. He can't let his emotions get in the way of what comes next.

"Alfred?" Superman exclaims, briefly pulling Batman out of his headspace. Batman can't afford to answer. He waves his hand at Superman impatiently and rolls his butler over. He had suspected a wound, but not one this... unique. A foot-long burn ripples over Alfred's shoulder like a target, the mark of a heat ray. He makes the connection to Robin almost instantly. His frown somehow burrows deeper down his cheeks, pulling against the healing scab of his own burn. Carefully, he lifts Alfred from the ground and towards the medical platform to the left of the supercomputer. On the outside, Batman seems composed if not a little rushed, but Superman can take a much closer look than any human. The dark knight's heart is racing in his chest, his breathing shallow and uneven. Superman notices a slight shake in his hands as he works to cut away the fabric in the area, clean the wound, apply the burn cream, and finally wrap sterile dressing around the shoulder.

"He's breathing fine, Batman. He's going to be alright."

Batman doesn't give so much as a nod, though he agrees. They found him early enough, and his condition is stable for now. Alfred can't heal like he used to, but he's still a healthy man. After a long, silent pause, Batman gets up and makes his way to the supercomputer. Superman hovers behind him, his expression furrowing slightly.

"What are you doing?"

A giant T appears on the screen, the light bathing their faces.

"Contacting the Titans."