Dick Grayson, even at age ten, knew there was more to Alfred than meets the eye. The way he always seemed to know what Dick wanted, the way he always had just the right thing waiting, that wasn't normal. Yeah, he was a butler, but Dick didn't see him half the time! How did he do what he did?
Dick had been with Wally in the library when the door was kicked open. They looked up to see armor clad men, all holding guns. Dick grabbed Wally's hand, pressing against him as they were surrounded. The guns were pointed at them, and someone was trying to bark orders at them. Dick didn't understand what they were saying. Wally didn't appear to either.
Wally was the one to snap. "We don't understand you." He snarled as the barrel of a gun shoved his shoulder. They talked to themselves before looking back at the boys. "Sit down. Now." Dick sat on the couch, pulling Wally with him. Bruce was gone at the moment, and Alfred might be in danger.
Dick was frozen, thinking of the night before his parents died. He'd seen a gun in Tony Zucco's pocket, and he'd been terrified of them ever since. It didn't help that Bruce's parents had been killed by a gun, and Dick had been terrified. He hated guns with a passion.
Dick trembled as the men came closer. He leaned into Wally's side, curling into a ball. He didn't want to be hurt. He just wanted Bruce to come home, maybe call the police. He wanted Alfred to be okay.
There were several grunts and shouts of pain from outside the door. Who was it? Bruce wasn't supposed to be home for another two hours, and Alfred had been in another part of the Manor. Maybe Alfred called for help.
Dick flinched as a gunshot rang out, trying to hide in Wally's lap. Wally curled around Dick, pushing them flat to the couch. The men all pointed their guns towards the door except for one, who kept his trained on the two boys.
"Get on the ground." One said in a thick accent. Russian, maybe? Bruce had been trying to teach Dick, and Dick had been trying to learn, but he kept mixing them up. He could only remember American and Romanian accents. The accents were one of the few things he struggled with, and he always wanted to cry when studying them. He felt like he was letting Bruce down when he couldn't get it right.
"You may be relying on Master Bruce's vow to never use guns, but let me assure you I made no such vow." Dick gasped. It was Alfred. They had guns at the Manor? He didn't know that. "Get on the ground, or the boy bites the dust."
There was another shot, and the man dropped his gun. His hand was bleeding, and Dick realized Alfred had shot it. Alfred had either been aiming for it, or had missed their chest. Considering the suspicions he had about Alfred, he assumed Alfred had been aiming for it.
Wally was holding onto Dick tightly, keeping an eye on the men around them. They seemed focused on Alfred, but he didn't doubt they were watching him and Dick. Wally didn't see a way out yet that didn't involve them being shot.
Dick was worried for Alfred. It had been too quiet for too long. Was the elderly man okay? Question after question flicked through his mind, making his thoughts a jumbled mess. The only things he were certain of was that Wally was holding him, Alfred was there, and they were in danger.
Dick heard faint sirens. The police were coming! Maybe they could get out of this situation unharmed. "You called them, didn't you?" "I assure you, sir, I did no such thing. I need no backup." Dick heard a scream of pain, and clenched his eyes closed.
Wally used his body as a shield, covering Dick while Alfred fought. It probably wouldn't take long for Alfred to beat them, but there were guns around, which was a danger to Dick. Wally would rather get shot than let Dick get hurt.
The shouts finally stopped, and Dick cracked his eyes open. Alfred was brushing the dust off of his coat, looking down at the unconscious men. He didn't even have a scratch on him.
"Are you both alright?" He asked, kneeling down in front of the couch. Dick nodded, sitting up. "We're fine. What about you?" "It takes more than a small scrape to stop me. The police will be here soon. You need to be ready for when they ask about statements."
Dick pulled Alfred into a hug, tears in his eyes. "I thought they hurt you." "Undisciplined men such as these are no match for me. Come, let's go to meet the police." Wally held Dick's hand as they walked, giving him reassuring squeezes every few seconds.
Dick gave the officer his statement as quickly as possible. He was still scared, and family was the only thing that helped. He was given a shock blanket, and was sat on the stairs. Wally and Alfred sat next to him, holding him close.
Bruce ran over to the trio. He'd been called at work, and had immediately left to return home. Dick had let Bruce pull him into a hug, holding Bruce tightly. He'd been terrified that something would happen to them.
When all of the invaders had been removed, the family went inside. Dick had to be led inside, shaking as he walked. He felt like he was facing Zucco again. He was scared.
They ended up in the living room, Dick laying out on one of the couches. Wally had Dick's head in his lap, and Bruce was holding Dick's hand. They both knew how guns scared him. There were times Bruce regretted telling Dick how his parents died.
"How long has Alfred had a gun?" Dick asked quietly. Said butler was in the kitchen, making tea to try and help calm Dick down. "He's had it for as long as I can remember. He only uses it on emergencies, though. I've never seen him that angry." Bruce said softly.
Alfred chose that moment to reappear. "I may not be able to join you in the field, but no one invades my home and hurts my family. I consider that an emergency over any other." Dick sat up, taking the cup Alfred handed to him.
Dick pondered the afternoon, thinking about Alfred. He'd been so willing to injure others for his family. In a way, it wasn't too different than what Dick did. He used force to protect others. Now Dick knew why Bruce always told him never go into Alfred's room.
