Butler Boy - Chapter 16

I was glad that I wasn't in Marvel instead of DC, because Iron Man would have sued for copyright infringement.

That's because, contrary to the Human Torch's usual application of his abilities, a pyrokinetic of sufficient skill didn't need to have flames manifested over their entire body in order to fly. Even with bullshit metagene superpowers and an extradimensional gacha, physics and thrust vectors were still a thing. All you really needed to fly was producing enough lift and aiming it properly relative to the direction you wanted to travel in.

Now, that said, going full 'flame on' had its advantages in being able to manifest thrust at virtually any angle at a split-second's notice given fire already existed all around you.

Handy, but not necessary.

Hence the fact that I was currently flying with only a set of four burning jets, one providing thrust out of each extended limb. It was a lot, lot less noticeable than turning yourself into a giant comet and flashing through the sky.

“Really wish I had that stealth skill right about now, Algie,” I muttered, the rushing wind stealing the words from my mouth as I flew around the city.

Fast, small, overhead and out of a direct line of sight. Not high enough to hide in the clouds, especially since I'd have to flame up to keep warm... a few hundred feet up in Gotham's early-spring damp Atlantic coastal air was already pushing it, even with a hoodie on.

“Okay, here we go...” I could see emergency responders crawling towards the fire on the roads below, flashing lights in the waning afternoon light. That and... “Shit!”

I ducked down and slid behind a billboard as a helicopter came into view, the logo of a local news station on its side.

Of course, of course... have to keep people up to date on the latest disaster... dammit.

Thankfully, I'd made it close enough to the fire. It was a blazing beacon on a sense that had only ever really felt the stove's burners or the occasional candle flame. The gentle pilot burn of the pilot light on that and the water heater had become constant companions these last few weeks.

This was light seeing the sun for the first time after only ever knowing the warmth and light of a campfire.

I took a deep breath and crouched slightly on the roof, keeping low behind one of the billboard's pillars as I sat myself down to concentrate. “Let's do this... easy now...”

I put my hands out in front of me, as if reaching for something invisible. The gesture was meaningless, but helped me articulate the metaphysical power I'd only begun to understand. My willpower stretched out, taking hold of the flames, and...

Slowly, but with growing surety and speed, the fire shrank.

Sweat broke out on my forehead. This was a hardy blaze, fed by spilled fuel, chemicals, and old wood. It was stubborn and I was still a comparative neophyte at controlling my power.

“No you don't... no you don't...” It was like trying to compress a ball of mud. Tiny spurts of heat and light attempted to escape my fingers, but I held firm.

Over the next few minutes, the dock fire shrank. By this point, firefighters had already set up, throwing water on the affected area and trying to establish a cordon. As I pulled the flames back, they soaked the scorched wood and concrete it left behind, cooling and soaking the area to keep it from returning.

True heroes, ladies and gents. No powers and still putting their lives on the line.

I sighed out the breath I'd been holding and drew in a new one.

“There we go... now go out...” I hissed, narrowing my gaze behind the aviator glasses I'd slipped on as part of my 'disguise.' “Almost... almost...”

My hands closed fully, extinguishing the blaze.

Hoses swept over the warehouse a moment later, dousing what had been a roaring inferno a few moments before. I released my grip, the sudden absence of my control allowing the smoldering embers to attempt to surge back to life, but the continuing downpour of water meant it couldn't gain a foothold.

I sighed again, this time for real, and mopped my forehead clean with my sleeve.

“Time to get out of here,” I muttered, sweeping my gaze around for any late-arriving choppers. Establishing that the coast was as clear as it was going to get and that the-

I blinked, watching a surveillance blimp rumble in from the distance, search lights sweeping across the burned-out husk's wreckage.

“Right... right... fucking bizarro world,” I muttered, shaking my head. I knew to expect them, having seen that a few east-coast cities used them, but... seeing them in real life was just so fucking odd that it still surprised me.

I turned away from the blimp and took off at a run across the rooftop, jet-like flames erupting from my hands and feet as I took off... this time going as high as I could as quickly as I could, making a parabola arc over the most populated part of the city.

Yes, it was freezing, my lungs felt like they were on fire for a few moments, and the entire experience generally sucked ass.

But no one looks up.

And given that I'd eaten a full in-flight meal of beef burguignon on the plane, my tank was full enough to burn a STIM use to recover from the exertion. Between that and a brief flame up to shed the atmospheric moisture I'd accumulated, I was soon stripping off my hoodie and sunglasses to run back to my parents.

“-there he is!” Mom sighed explosively, looking put-out as she laid eyes on me, turning back to the driver at the sleek black limousine. “I'm terribly sorry, my son's back now.”

Not Alfred, huh? Ah... he must be playing majordomo for the party tomorrow night.

“It's perfectly alright, ma'am,” the man in a crisp uniform pulled straight from the forties, tipping his hat with a smile. “We've only just finished loading the luggage, it's nor a problem.”

“S-sorry,” I said, feigning a visibly out-of-breath state as I put my hands on my knees. “I went to find a bathroom and got a little lost.”

“See, told'ya,” Algie nodded, his shoulders relaxing in a way that couldn't be explained by such a casual reason for my absence.

“Ye~ep,” Addie hummed, giving me the evil eye. “Not the first time he's gotten lost on a family trip. Remember the Grand Canyon?”

I winced, my face heating as Dad laughed. “Ah... ten minutes of panic before we realized he'd discovered the arcade. I suppose Arden does have a bit of a history going MIA.”

“Yep,” Addie replied, her eyes not leaving me as Algie shifted in place awkwardly between us.

“I feel like you all just want life to be boring instead of having adventures and creating memorable moments which we can look back on with fond exasperation,” I replied dryly, crossing my arms.

Mom rolled her eyes at me while Dad and Algie snickered at my reply, though it failed to move Addie a single emotional inch from her obvious irritation. “Okay, young man, you've had your fun... honestly, I don't know why you just didn't go before we got off the plane.”

Muttering an excuse about not wanting to inconvenience the cleaning staff, we all started to pile into the waiting vehicle.

A feminine hand clamped onto my shoulder.

I turned, raising an eyebrow.

Addie stared down at me.

“Someone could have gotten hurt – or died,” I stated, my tone low as the driver departed under my Dad's assurances that we could close the door ourselves.

“I'm not concerned about someone,” Addie hissed, “I'm concerned about you. My little brother, my responsibility.”

“I'll try to keep the shenanigans to a minimum,” I replied, then winced as my stomach growled.

“We just ate,” Addie frowned, looking me over.

“I'm a growing boy?” I asked in a hopeful reply.

My sister stared at me for a moment longer, then gave me a half-push towards the car. “I'm watching you.”

“Yeah, yeah...” I sighed, rolling my eyes as I slid down the long line of seats on the side until I was close enough to pick at the artistically arranged snacks. “Hey, Algie, where's my-”

He gave my art bag a short toss, and I nodded. “Cool, thanks.”

“No problem, squirt,” he shrugged, settling in on the other side of the snack area and perusing the drinks. “Your, uh... bathroom trip go okay?”

“As uneventful as it could be,” I replied, slipping a hand into my pocket and showing him the flash of gold... and silver?”

He blinked, his eyes flicking towards our parents as Addie sat down next to us. “What's the silver for?”

“Ride on a billionaire's private jet, apparently,” I replied with a snort, folding it between two fingers and pausing. “I know you said no more, but...”

He grimaced and shook his head, understanding where I was going with the offer. “Nah, you keep it Arden. Especially if you're going to be doing stuff like that... you'll need it.”

I sighed, nodding, and slipped the tickets back into my pocket. As much as I wanted to rip them right now, I wasn't quite so desperate anymore. The fire and the flight had flushed the adrenaline from my system and I wasn't as spooked anymore. Granted, I was still anxious, but... I wasn't quite as dumb as to make an actual gacha pull inside of one of Bruce Wayne's vehicles.

...even if Batman finding out the broad strokes of my powers eventually is a given, doing that in the bathroom of his private jet was stupid. As stupid as trying a curse out in the first place, really.

It was a reminder that, for all my worldly experience, I was still thirteen in every way that mattered, neurochemistry included. I got jumpy, scared, insecure, and made half-cocked decisions too easily. I still stood by the reasons I'd made them, but... I could have chosen a better path putting thought to deed in many regards.

Still, regret wouldn't solve anything.

Recognize the problem, evaluate its causal factors, and resolve to do better.

Those were the thoughts on my mind as I demolished a small meal of empty calories to sate my resurgent appetite while the limo wound its way through the outskirts of Gotham. It was the neighborhood of the city's elite, consisting of higher-end suburbs, gated communities, and the occasional old-money mansion or estate. The last of these, obviously, was our destination.

Wayne Manor.

I'd seen it depicted in over a dozen different ways, but the only word I could think of to describe the home before me was 'classic.'

It was built halfway up a steep hill, possibly a small mountain, in the center of a huge section of walled-off forest. Two large streams – small rivers – cut through the long road up to the property, only passable by way of a pair of hundred-year-old stone bridges. The forest was dark and deep on either side, especially with the now-faded evening twilight.

Then the road opened up onto a carefully manicured driveway that made an elaborate loop around the property, curving around various hedges, fountains, and other small out-buildings that surrounded the main house.

Or castle.

It was built in stone, not wood or brick. Granite, if I had to guess, likely mined from the surrounding hills. A five story building that loomed like something much larger, a structure that held the weight and gravitas of something entirely unlike the Gotham city I'd glimpsed as I'd flown over it briefly.

It was the kind of place that looked at a skyscraper and knew which of them would still be standing in another century.

“Always impresses me, every time I see it,” Marvin, the driver, stated as we filed out and made the appropriate noises of appreciation. “The place is almost as old as the United States, you know? From what I've heard, the original lodge built on the property was even older than that.”

He was close, at least. I'd done one of those asinine 'important person' reports back during middle school on Bruce Wayne and, to some degree, his family at large as well. The manor house originally predated the revolution by a good fifty years, but it had been constructed out of wood and – as a result – suffered greatly during a fire in the seventeen-sixties. The building standing here, now, could be said to be an entirely different one as a result.

The lodge had been, as I understood it, something of a vacation home for the Waynes of the time period. They'd lived in the city proper while the manor was rebuilt in stone as a result of their suddenly increased fortune made in supplying the revolutionaries and the new federal government.

I didn't see it at the moment, which probably meant it was somewhere in the woods nearby or located behind the main house out of the way of visitors.

Either way... it was impressive.

“I love the architecture... this is classic Gothic, isn't it?” Mom asked, and I blinked, startled out of my contemplation. “Ah... I can only imagine the upkeep of a place like this.”

“All I know is that it's got a full staff to keep everything clean, at least ever since Mister Wayne came back,” Marvin stated with a sigh. “Had to do a deep clean when he showed up. Mr. Pennyworth kept the lights on, but a lot of the rooms went disused for the better part of a decade. I got called in to make sure the motorpool was properly put back into commission, then ended up with a job as a driver and part-time mechanic.”

“Good job?” Dad asked as he fidgeted, trying to restrain himself from helping to unload the luggage. The dark-skinned man had waved him off twice, but Dad wasn't the kind of man who was comfortable with someone else doing work for him.

“Best I've had,” Marvin stated. “Pays well, time off. Hours are flexible. Occasionally odd hours when Mister Wayne takes up a new sport and needs to be dragged out of a parachute with a broken arm or something, but-”

“Telling tales, Mr. Marvin Thomas?” An uppercrust British accent asked, the question piercing and pointed.

“Only what they could read in the tabloids, Mister Pennyworth,” Marvin stated, completely unapologetic and grinning.

“Given the allowances Master Wayne has made and understanding that he considers such things amusing, I am barred from offering demerits. However, I will ask you to keep gossip to your off hours and, if you please, away from the master's guests,” he stated formally, the reprimand in his tone clear, even if it wasn't official.

Which I almost missed, because Alfred Pennyworth.

Like... holy shit.

I resisted the urge to squeal and roll about on the ground in excitement, but only barely.

“Of course, sir, I'll keep that in mind,” Marvin grinned again, still unrepentant.

“I'm sure,” Alfred stated, managing to pack in no little derision into those two words before turning to my family and giving a stiff bow. “Please, you must be the Villins. I am Alfred Pennyworth. I oversee the management of the properties and represent Master Wayne's interests when he is absent. This is, sadly, one such time. Important matters at the company required his attention-”

Sure, probably just a misplaced shipment and not an explosion down by the docks requiring the Batman.

“-even if he would have preferred to be here to greet you in person,” Alfred finished politely. “If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your rooms for the next two nights while you're our guests here. Please, in the absence of the master of the house, allow me to welcome you to Wayne Manor.”

“We're glad to be here,” Mom smiled, stepping up with a smile as my parents followed the butler into the house.

Addie bumped my side as Algie stood a few feet ahead looking around.

They're guarding me.

It was a sudden realization, the two of them standing sentry as they refused to follow mom and dad without me in tow. I sighed and took a few steps. “I'm not going to disappear, you know?”

“You ran off,” Addie snorted, her words soft against the chill wind blowing in from the forest. “Don't do that without telling me, dipshit.”

I clicked my tongue and looked away. “Sorry, wasn't thinking.”

“I know that,” Addie sighed, looking unhappy as we walked. “I already tore Jerkanon over there a new one for letting you go. I don't care if you can fly off. Don't. Not while we're not at home, at least.”

Right, the downside of being thirteen.

It still struck me as odd, sometimes... and it even made me angry occasionally, the lack of autonomy. I couldn't go where I wanted, I couldn't do as I pleased, and I couldn't decide what was appropriate for myself to watch or read.

You're six today! Eight! Ten! Twelve Thirteen, finally a teenager! Aren't you happy, Arden?

There was an old adage that, if someone told you something enough times, you'd eventually begin to believe it. It didn't matter what you knew, only what was real. And, for all intents and purposes, I was thirteen. In every way that mattered. I had to be thirteen, or else I'd go crazy, dammit.

It was an old irritation, a chafing sensation somewhere between the mind, body, and soul.

“I'll stay in or around Wayne Manor while we're here,” I replied eventually, coming closer to the entrance of the building. “No more running – or flying – off. Promise.”

Adelaide stared at me for a moment longer, then nodded. “Fine. I know you want to do the hero thing, but give it time. The more shit you pick up, the safe you'll be, the less I'll have to worry... and the longer I'll have before I start getting gray hair.”

I hummed and, thankfully, she let the conversation drop there.

Because I wasn't willing to promise more than staying inside Wayne Manor for this two-day trip. A protagonist's luck wasn't something I was willing to ignore. If I did, it would likely seek me out at home, in the house where my family lived. I think Algie was so quiet because he'd realized, at least a little, that I'd passed the point of no return in that way. Regardless of what the tickets in my pocket gave me next, I no longer had the luxury of deciding to seek out danger or ignore that calling.

Now, it would come to me.

At some point, Addie would get it.

And she'd probably be pissed as hell, too.

“Wotcha!” A young, rough voice called out above us, and I saw a young girl, my age, with dark hair and a wide smile. She was a bit shorter than me, though that wasn't a surprise. From what the news said, she'd lived a hard life on London's streets before a would-be supervillain had picked her up. I can't imagine either of those situations meant good dietary conditions for a growing child. “They finally here for the gay and hearty, Alfie?”

My parents looked to each other in confusion.

“Ahh... Miss AJ, if you would refrain from yelling in the house?” Alfred asked, heaving a great sigh as the girl grinned and trundled down the stairs. “And, please do refer to me by my full name, if you would?”

Anita Jean, this timeline's first adopted 'Bat Family' member.

Likely, too, the first Robin for this timeline as well.

Someone whom I knew nothing about.

“Sure Alfie, I gotcha!” AJ grinned, running up to us, then easily fixating on me. “Hey, you're Arden, right? Nice ta' meetcha! Wanna see what this cat 'n mouse's like fore I cop a flower pot and can’t show ya’round?”

I blinked at the eager girl, then mechanically turned my head towards the stoically-exasperated butler. “Mr. Pennyworth, sir? I gather this young lady wishes me to accompany her somewhere on the premises. Should I grant her request, am I to take it that I will return alive and in a single piece?”

AJ frowned at me, looking put out as Alfred...

The suited man coughed into his fist mightily before seeming to get himself under control.

AJ crossed her arms, narrowing her gaze at the older man. “You feelin' grue, there Alfie?”

Alfred coughed one final time before shaking his head. “I feel perfectly fine, Miss AJ, I assure you. To address your concerns though, Youngest Mr. Villin, you can rest assured that Miss AJ knows the areas of the manor which are forbidden to children and the punishments which she will face should she endeavor to drag you into them. Otherwise, she has had all of her shots, does not bite – often, and for a marvel, arrived to us capable of both American and the Queen's proper English, should she feel inclined to use either in place of her native cockney slang.”

Metaphorical lightbulbs went off in the expressions of my family. Algie snorted, Addie palmed her face, while Mom and Dad simply exchanged exasperated and amused looks respectively.

“It's alright for them to explore, then?” Mom pressed Alfred.

“The mansion is quite safe, I assure you, madam.” Alfred replied with a tight nod.

“Let Arden run off for a bit, Abigail,” Dad said, taking Mom's hand. “AJ can show him where his room is later, after dinner, and it'll be good for him to stretch his legs after being cooped up in a plane all afternoon.”

“...alright, fine,” Mom sighed, making a 'shoo' motion. “Go on, have fun.”

“Wizard!” AJ grinned, clasping my wrist and dragging me along down a hall.

...I forget, had I ever actually agreed to this? Eh, who am I kidding? I get to run around Wayne Manor, no way I'd refuse.

~~~

Little bit later than I wanted, but only by a few hours.

Arden's in Gotham, woo! He's also at Wayne Manor!

...and calming down a little bit, so he's realizing he screwed up a little bit with the curse.

I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. The Awesome-tier poll has another half-day or so on it, but it's looking like The Hand We're Dealt will get a chapter this month, which will be fun. I'm also going to see about an SAO chapter as well, since that's been a while.

Other than that... hope everyone's have a great weekend and thanks again for all the support!