Son of Deathstroke

Working with the Bat

"I don't know, but it's cool as--" He barely stopped himself in time to avoid a shock. "It's the cat's pajamas."

"Not cussing doesn't mean using extinct idioms."

"I have to do something to distinguish myself." He walked off to the Batmobile.

As he sat in the high-tech car, he pondered his pen-name predicament. He liked Renegade, but it didn't really suit him. He could go back to Jack of All Trades... no, that was lame. He needed something original.

An idea came to mind, but he wasn't entirely sure it would have the best reception by lowlifes everywhere. Plus, he was only vaguely aware of where it came from.

Batman sat down next to him and pulled away from the waterfront. They had been out for most of the night, and Batman figured Renegade had more than proved himself for the time being.

As they neared the outskirts of town, Batman tinted the windows so they couldn't see outside.

"Uh, I don't have much experience in this department, but don't you have to see to drive?" the teen asked, somewhat worriedly.

The Dark Knight looked at him for a moment, then took his hands off the wheel. Seeing the younger's mouth drop open, he smiled ever so slightly. "It has automatic steering," he explained to the bewildered teen.

Renegade crossed his arms and pouted. "That's cheating." As an afterthought, he added, "All this just so I can't see where we're going? Sheesh."

xXx

After a while of driving (no one really kept track of how long), they slowed, and Batman un-tinted the glass. Renegade looked out and saw what the big fuss about the Batcave was about.

They were in an enormous cavern filled with enough of high-tech doodads to keep an ADHD kid (like Renegade liked to consider himself to be) busy for a lifetime. A huge computer filled up an entire wall. Everywhere were racks of batarangs and other bat-themed weapons. And, Renegade noted, a staircase in the back led up to somewhere on the surface.

He got out of the Batmobile, gaping at the surreal sight around him. After a moment of taking it in, he laughed in amazement. "Okay, you know all those times I called you lame?"

"You didn't."

"Not out loud, anyway. Well, I take it all back. This place is the BOMB!"

"I'm sure it is," an unfamiliar voice echoed around them. Renegade whirled around and saw a man standing by the staircase carrying a tray with sandwiches. "And I assume you're the Renegade fellow Batman's taken in." He had a strong British accent, he noted.

Renegade didn't respond. He stared at the man, taking in his apparent age and tidy appearance. He also noticed the guarded look, the tall way he carried himself, and the ever-so-slight distrust in his eyes. However, he also saw the care in those same eyes, and the quiet strength that seemed to emanate from him. This was an interesting man, to be sure.

After a solid minute of taking in the stranger, he finally broke the silence by addressing Batman with, "You have a butler?"

"Renegade, meet Alfred."

After another moment, the teen extended a hand. "Pleasure."

Alfred raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise. Then he shook hands with the ex-mercenary, carefully balancing the tray in his left hand. "Would you be wanting a sandwich then?"

He looked at them. "What kind?"

"Turkey."

Renegade shrugged and took one. "Sure, thanks." He took a bite and nodded his approval. He looked like he was going to say something else, but took another bite instead. Before long, he was on his third sandwich and still hadn't stopped.