SON OF BATMAN

"Two weeks?" she gasped, clutching at his arm as if he'd just announced he was leaving forever. "Two weeks? You're abandoning me here for two whole weeks?" Her tone was laced with mock despair, her voice rising dramatically with each word.

Of course, she had already anticipated that he wouldn't be taking her with him, but that wouldn't stop her from putting on her most dramatic performance to highlight her devastation at being left behind.

Damian spared her a sidelong glance, his face impassive, unbothered by her antics. "You'll manage," he said simply, his tone as detached and calm as ever, as if he hadn't noticed the way she was now gripping his arm as though her life depended on it.

But Yvonne wasn't done. She let out a dramatic sigh and slumped back against the couch, flinging an arm over her eyes.

"Manage? Manage? Oh, Damian, you wound me! A day was bad enough, but two weeks? How will I survive? I'll waste away. I'll perish! And here I thought you cared about me." She peeked at him from beneath her arm, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. "Are you sure you don't want to take me with you? I'd make an excellent companion. Think about it: two weeks without my brilliance. Two weeks without me."

Damian completely ignored her and turned his attention back to Alfred, who watched the scene unfold with the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.

Damian's sharp, unwavering gaze fixed on Alfred, dismissing Yvonne's dramatics as though they hadn't even occurred. His voice, calm and precise, cut through the room. "Pennyworth, I'll need you to inform Mr. Fox."

Alfred straightened ever so slightly, his professional demeanor unshaken.

"By the time I return in two weeks, I expect him to have a full account prepared." Damian's tone left no room for ambiguity. "Not just regarding the Applied Sciences Division, but everything. The entire scope of Wayne Enterprises. Operations, finances, personnel, projects, and anything else of relevance. I want to know everything there is to know from top to bottom."

Alfred's brows lifted ever so slightly, the only outward sign of his reaction. For a moment, he allowed himself to absorb the weight of Damian's request.

Wayne Enterprises was not just a multi-billion-dollar empire. It was a labyrinth, a vast and tangled web of legitimate business ventures interwoven with hidden compromises and dark skeletons.

Bruce, for all his brilliance, had chosen to ignore these shadows in the corporate corners, as he believed that Gotham's streets, with their immediate dangers and human suffering, were the more pressing matter. But Alfred had always felt a quiet bitterness about Bruce's neglect of his family's legacy.

Wayne Enterprises carried the weight of their name, a name tied to generations of hope, vision, and responsibility. Yet, Bruce had let it drift, allowing others to steer it into murky waters while he focused on his crusade as the Batman.

Now, hearing Damian's request, Alfred felt something stir within him — a cautious sense of vindication, a faint flicker of hope that the name of Wayne might once again command integrity, not just in the shadows but in the light of the world. It was not delight but a quiet satisfaction to see that Damian, for all his cold detachment, might finally confront what Bruce had always chosen to set aside.

Alfred studied Damian for a moment, as though reassessing the young man sitting before him. The cold determination in Damian's eyes was unmistakable, a reflection of both his father's legacy and his own uniquely unyielding resolve.

Breaking the silence, Alfred allowed a wry smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. "A rather tall order, Young Master Wayne," he observed, his tone carrying the subtlest note of dry humor. "Might I assume Mr. Fox's considerable talents are the reason for such a... comprehensive request?"

Damian's eyes narrowed slightly, a glint flashing in the depths of his dark gaze. "If anyone can manage it, it's Lucius Fox," he said simply. "He's been with the company long enough to know where to look, and how to work around any obstacles should they arise."

Alfred dipped his head in a small nod of acknowledgment. "Very well, sir. I shall relay your instructions to Mr. Fox immediately. Knowing him, I'm sure he will rise to the occasion." His voice carried the faintest edge of amusement, though it was clear he took the instruction seriously.

Meanwhile, Yvonne was still keeping up her dramatic performance unabated, slumping back against the couch with a pitiful sigh. "Two weeks," she muttered, her voice dripping with exaggerated misery. "I'll be a husk of a woman by the time you return. Just an empty shell. Don't expect to find me the same. You'll come back to ruins."

Damian, paying her no mind, gestured toward her as he addressed Alfred. "She will remain here," he said, his tone decisive. "She'll be upgrading the Batcave's systems. Assist her with whatever she needs."

Alfred inclined his head in acknowledgment, his composed demeanor unwavering as he responded. "Of course, Young Master," he said smoothly, though a flicker of curiosity passed behind his eyes.

Glancing at Yvonne, who now peeked at them from beneath her dramatically placed arm, Alfred couldn't help but quietly wonder at the full extent of her abilities. Damian's confidence in her was unmistakable, and while Alfred did not doubt his judgment, the scale of the task she'd been entrusted with was nothing short of remarkable. After all, the Batcave was already equipped with all the latest technology.

As soon as Damian finished giving his instructions to Alfred, Yvonne sensed her opportunity. She lowered her arm from her face, revealing a pout that was as exaggerated as it was playful. Tilting her head slightly, she looked at Damian with mock accusation.

"You're really going to ignore my suffering, aren't you?" she asked, her voice dripping with faux indignation, her lower lip sticking out just enough to sell the act.

"Yes," Damian replied flatly, his tone calm and entirely unaffected by her theatrics. His simple, unbothered response only deepened her pout.

Yvonne huffed dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest for a moment before leaning back toward him.

"Well, in that case," she said with a soft sigh, her voice turning sultry, "I guess I'll have to settle for the next best thing and delay your departure for the night."

As she spoke, her hand began to slide down his chest with deliberate slowness, trailing along the line of his torso before brushing against his thigh. Her touch was soft, lingering, and her fingers moved with a feather-light precision that made her intentions unmistakable.

Alfred, ever perceptive, recognized the shift in the atmosphere immediately. Clearing his throat softly, he adjusted the cuffs of his jacket and took a step back. "If there's nothing else, Young Master," he said, his tone polite and composed but with the faintest trace of urgency, "I shall retire for the evening."

Without waiting for a response, Alfred made a quiet but purposeful exit, leaving the room with his usual grace, the door clicking softly shut behind him.