Issue #3: The Curious Case Of Edmund Serana

"They're no longer here."

After suffering defeat at the combined might of Superman and me, the Court of Owl seems to have relinquished one of their underground bases. Smart given that the alien from Metropolis have seen their faces.

But, to cut off one of their appendages just to save the main body. "They're ruthless and are not hesitant to withdraw if given the chance."

[They're also quite resource heavy if they did this in every single location.]

Alfred's voice resounds in my earlobes as he speaks from the Batcave. I have tasked him with tapping into Gotham's public and private security cameras beforehand.

But, so far, all possible hideouts have been deserted. All three of them.

I can ask Superman to do another run around Gotham, but I doubt they are stupid enough to risk his X-ray vision with lead again. They will go deeper or far away from Gotham proper so that the man in the sky will not look their way.

'If that isn't enough, I have to worry about the child abductee's condition.'

Unfortunately, Superman took a few hours to scour Gotham for any sign of illegal activities, for which there are many, but what made it difficult was that they lined their ceiling with lead, along with other materials. A countermeasure for X-ray vision and other espionage devices and powers.

If I could laugh at their deviousness, then I would not. I have just placed the Court of Owls at the top of my priority list.

[You're grunting again, Master Bruce.]

I hummed in non-response.

I stand from the outcropping, overlooking the destroyed warehouse and into the underground chamber from which we saved Edmund.

I almost failed that night. My wounds were not severe, but the concussion was. If not for Superman, then Edmund might have…

"I need to talk to the boy."

[That would not be possible at the moment. He is currently at Gotham Central Hospital. Admitted at the PICU. Severe head trauma, severe internal bleeding, multiple ruptured organs. The doctors don't know if he'll live.]

"Do we have any-"

[LexCorp has already sent their best medical technician to the GCH.]

"Alright. Report back if you have any more news." When I hear the beep, I let out a weary sigh.

I can investigate further, but given the nature of my enemies, then, surely, they would have erased all evidence that will trace back to their current hideout. If what Superman told me is real, then the Court has been operating underneath the country for centuries.

'Maybe his suggestion has merits. Maybe.' 

Nonetheless, now that LexCorp has sent one of their own to check the boy, my mind is free of one of its many burdens.

I fire my grappling hook and ascend a higher building, using my momentum to land on the rooftop.

My gaze now overlooks the city. It has been nearly two hours since the sun has set. The city is now alive, rife with danger and crime. It's time to work.

Although the run-in with the Court of Owls is most probably a rare occurrence, the effects of that mission still lingered within my body. Wounds and burns are healed, but there is only so much you can do within twenty-four hours.

As such, I decided to take it easy for tonight. Too much movement would cause the stitched wounds to open up, so I packed my belt full of Batarang variants.

Fortunately, the major criminals are still frightened by Superman's arrival and, thus, allow me to work freely on the low-level thugs. Though they are also scared of Superman, they know they were too small for him to bother.

'Not for me.'

By the crack of dawn, sweat dampens the insides of my cowl as I enter the cave and begin the other part of my work.

A three-hour sleep refreshed my mind and body, fortunate enough to have trained both to be rejuvenated in such a brief nap.

To be perfectly honest, my cover as an eccentric billionaire hedonist is as much work as scouring the whole of Gotham and bringing justice to criminals. At the very least, I don't have to dance in my underwear at Penguin's club.

'Enough.'

First order of business, a visit to Edmund Serana's home north of Gotham. 

Objective: Address Edmund's culpability in the ritual and his mental acuity that made Luthor become interested in him.

Second order, stroll around Gotham Central Hospital and make a few unsolicited donations to charity for a hall named after me specifically. 

Objective: Gain access to the encrypted security footage of the PICU and investigate the disappearance of its former director a day ago.

•••Half An Hour Later•••

"Master Bruce!" Alfred's voice severs me of my previous thoughts. 

I scan my surroundings, wary of any illusion-based attacks that have and will affect me, only to find nothing of note. 

I'm in the Batcave. A few hours after Edmund left my care and half an hour after my unexpected break-in at the Gotham Central Hospital.

"Are you alright, Master Bruce? I've been calling for you." Alfred voiced his concerns. "How long has it been since you've last slept?"

"Last night after my patrol…" He gazed at me like that when I was a kid. "3 hours."

"That routine is not conducive to good health, Master Bruce." Admonishes Alfred, tutting his tongue while placing a tray of cups and kettle next to me.

I pay it no heed as I focus on the clacks of the glowing keyboard echoing around the hollow chambers of my Batcave. The large screens show pictures of the Serana family, city hall documents issued from one-to-three hundred years ago, and a list of possible Court of Owls associates.

"Coffee break, Master Bruce?" Alfred's voice brought me out of my work musings once again. 

His black shoes clacking against the rough granite floors for even I did not have enough money to tile the cave. I probably can, but I'd rather have someone trustworthy to do it.

"Thank you, Alfred." I take off my mask and bring the coffee cup up to my face, slowly sipping the hot beverage.

A sudden dull ping interrupts my enjoyment of it, however. With a breath of caffeinated air, I place the cup atop the keyboard as I press a button, showing a drone video of a roughed-up Richard Grayson, my newest ward, sneakily entering his room.

"I do believe that's the seventeenth time young master Grayson had sneaked out of his room." Alfred notes, standing behind me dutifully. "Do you think it's time?"

"It is." I voice my assent to his subtle suggestion. "What do you think of Edmund?"

I have always valued Alfred's opinion. Frankly, in matters of the heart, his is bigger than mine in any way possible.

"Are you suggesting you train them simultaneously?" I can see his reaction from the glare of the large monitors. His eyes slightly widening in response to my question.

"I am." I answer. I tap another button, this one showing grainy footage of LexCorp medical technicians surrounding an eight-year-old boy, Edmund.

They begin putting numerous syringes and nodes on the leaking holes in his naked body. They turned on a cylindrical machine with a hole in the middle, similar to an advanced MRI machine, and it started oscillating with purple energy.

They put him on a levitating bed, whereupon the machine ran through his body, while the syringes took multiple liters of blood. Liters that he should not have. It quickly filled three small tanks with crimson blood.

As the oscillating machine ran through Edmund, the large wounds, bruises, and tiny holes in his small body began to fester and rot. For a second, I thought they would be panicking, but, to my surprise, they seemed to take delight in the fact.

Why? I ask myself. Perhaps this is why Lex took an interest in the boy.

I get my answer soon enough as they clean the necrosis-filled boy using the machine's intense lasers. The subsequent events baffled me.

Edmund, now clean and grime free, is now unwounded and unbruised with no physical trauma that could have resulted in serious injury. His body has healed itself. 

"Can he regenerate?" Alfred asks, nearly dropping his own cup of coffee.

"I had to wrestle this footage away from the hospital director. He was going to throw it away." I say, gazing deep at the footage.

The sight of a newly regenerated Edmund threw me off at first. But the more it made sense that he would survive that blood ritual. "He has abilities far beyond what we can ever imagine. That's why Lex gave him an internship. I suspect the man already has everything he needs from the boy…"

"So, he let him go?"

"Yes. His father is going to Metropolis right now, to hear the news." I frown at the memory of the horrible man, unfit to be a father. He was lucky to have a child so brilliant and well-meaning, however cunning the boy. "If I could train him. He could do what I could not in the last three years…"

"This means you will reveal your identity to not one, but two children whose childhood had been bathed with blood and carnage. Think about this clearly, Master Bruce." 

His words left me numb as he walked away. He was not admonishing me, far from it. He was explaining my choices. To fulfill my vendetta by bringing in children to a life of pain and sleepless nights, or to let them grow weak and powerless like I was back then.

Alfred is and will always be merciful to his family, but his mercy could only go so far.

•••

I return home late at night, and to my delight, Father has gone away for business.

I greet the workers as I enter the dining room, where I see the crimson eyes of my mother. She had clearly been crying all night and had been rather down about it, but the moment she saw me, her face lightens up.

"Oh, dear!" Mother stands from her seat and walks up to me for a warm embrace.

"I've dealt with Bruce, mother." I tell her as I brush her hair. "Now, I'm hungry. Did Stegan make the food?"

I deal with the food fairly quickly, but stay for an hour so I can chat with my mother regarding Bruce Wayne. Of course, she had more than enough gossip and rumors about the Wayne's.

"I heard that Thomas had someone killed. A reporter, I think." She sats at one point.

Baffling me with how her information network could come up with such ludicrous ideas.

Still, the night went on with me, inviting the other servants of the house to dine with us. Just to fuck with Father dearest.

As I take to my room, I can not help but linger on my conversation with Bruce. Although he had tentatively agreed and would most probably think about it some more after his night job, I have a feeling that he will probably agree.

Since I'll be training back in Wayne Manor for a long time, I ought to clear that up with Mother. It would be hard to keep up pretenses when she's so adamant about never leaving my sight.

As I make my way towards her room, I can't help but linger in the hall. It has been more than three years since I regained the memories of my past life.

I still remember it to this day. We were in the park; mother was talking to her friends, and I was on the swing. Olgar stood a few dozen meters away because his large physique was scaring the children.

I was having fun when this crazy serial killer barged into the park. He had tally marks all over his body. He tried to grab the boy next to me–a friend of mine–so he threw my body away. 

I remember my head hitting the edge of the metal swing. I remember being so angry that I bit his ankle, allowing a brief reprieve for Olgar to knock the guy out. 

I got knocked out, too. The moment I came to, I realized what I was or, in this case, who I was before me.

I knock on her door and call out to her. It took her a good few seconds before opening up.

Mother and Father stayed in different bedrooms most of the time, an agreement Mother had mocked up when she began having an affair with the muscular work-out instructor guy that used to come around when mother had ladies' night with her friends..

'Honestly, good for her.'

She wears a thick robe over her long camisole, a curler on her head as she grabs me by the thick of my head and drags me inside.

"Do you want some ice cream?" She asks, returning to her bean bag.

It must be her horror movie night. I, myself, am not a fan of horror, so I always sit this one out, but I tend to join her during rom-com night.

"Uh, mother. I have something important to tell you." I say, setting up the mood by sitting at the foot of the bed.

She gives me a sad smile before pausing her movie and looking straight at me, still astride her bean bag. "What is it, honey?"

"Mother, I am going to be a superhero!" I say with as much sincerity as I could.

Mother nodded her light vigorously, as if her thought came out to be true. "I knew it. The kidnapping has affected your mind. Oh, my baby boy, I am so sorry!"

She embraced me. Her heavy bosom threatens to squish the life out of me, trying my best to gather air whenever I can. I pat her back repeatedly, in a futile attempt at a morse code for 'suffocate'.

She finally let me go, tears in her eyes as she kept muttering about her fear of sending me to Arkham.

"Mom, I'm not crazy." I correct her misunderstanding. I keep holding her hands, fearing that if it comes loose, then my life will be in danger. "Mr. Wayne promised to train me. He…"

I came in close and whispered in her ears. "He's Batman."

My words render my mother speechless, leaving her mouth wide open before transitioning into an expression of understanding and peculiar relief. She hugs me once more, full of warmth and love.

"I understand, Edmund." She says through the embrace. "Please be careful when you're in Mr. Wayne's house, alright?"

"I-I will, mother. Don't worry. Mr. Wayne adopted a boy and he'll be training him, too." I say. 

I am confused regarding her whole sudden acceptance. She must be misunderstanding something, but I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. "I'll be here for breakfast and dinner. We can always watch those romcoms. I'll just be training in between."

She purses her lips, trying her best not to cry. "The world will always be dangerous, my son. I may never be there to always protect you, so I hope that you… train your best. Just make sure that… you know that as long as I live, I will always be there for you!"

"I know, mother. Don't worry, you're still young." I compliment her, not wanting to talk about her demise just yet.

"I know. It's my face cream." She cups her hands and starts talking about her newfound lotions during her visits to New Orleans, where she met this soothsayer with a blindfold.

We talked until the late hour. She mostly did the talking, and I listened intently. Soon, I go back to my room, excited for the days that are about to come before the great darkness welcomes me back into his warm embrace. 

Good fortune and great tidings whispers in my drowsy ears.