United Arab Emirates
Bruce Wayne stood and stared out of the window of his penthouse in the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world. He was in Dubai for the annual Wayne Family Retreat, capital letters the way Alfred pronounced it, that his butler arranged for him every summer in the hiatus between school years. It was a chance to leave the gritty, dark streets of Gotham behind and experience the world. He had been all over the world to all the top cities since he was five. In the early days, Alfred went with him. Since he turned thirteen, Alfred sent him alone.
“You don’t need me to guide you, Master Bruce, or to hold your hand,” the butler had said.
And so Bruce was alone in the United Arab Emirates. He was looking forward to seeing the city, experiencing the night life, maybe even making a few friends. As it turned out, he would do none of those things. Alfred had other plans.
In a former life, before growing old and seeking work as a butler, and before being hired by Patrick Wayne, Bruce’s grandfather, to look after the Wayne family, Alfred led…a different life.
Alfred Pennyworth went by a different name. He was a different man. He was a soldier of fortune, a revolutionary, a patriot, an outlaw, a criminal, a brawler, and a gentleman. He fought in Laos, the Congo, Bosnia, Russia, Burma, Columbia, the Falklands – almost anywhere there was a fight, good pay, and the promise of a good time. He chased outlaws, terrorists, thieves, bandits – anyone whom he was commissioned to chase.
One man he was continually tasked to apprehend and bring to justice was a man labeled a terrorist by most of the world’s governments, a man named Ra’s Al Ghul. In all his years and all his time, Alfred only got close to Ra’s al Ghul on three separate occasions. The first, he had him locked in the scope of a sniper rifle.
“I’ve got eyes on target. Preparing to fire.”
“Roger, Falcon One. Firing is ordered.”
In the fifteen seconds it took to relay the message to headquarters, squeeze the trigger, and for the bullet to commence its flight, another man walked in front Ra’s al Ghul. Before the unfortunate savior’s body hit the ground, Ra’s had disappeared.
It would be years before the second time that Alfred got close, this time as a prisoner. Alfred was ambushed in the middle of the Sahara Desert on a hunt for a local militia leader while scouting by himself. The ambushers turned out to be members of the Underground Society, Ra’s organization. Alfred spent three weeks being interrogated and tortured before he gave up the location of the rest of his outfit. Ra’s was so impressed by Alfred’s tenacity and resistance to the abuse that he let him go and disappeared into the desert.
The third time that Alfred met Ra’s al Ghul, was two weeks prior sending Bruce to Dubai. They met at Wayne Manor, just outside of Gotham City.
“Welcome, honored guest.” Alfred bowed.
“I am welcomed.” Ra’s dipped his head in return of the bow. “Why have you summoned me here? Not to finally collect on my bounty, I presume?”
“No. I request a favor.”
“Interesting. Continue.”
“My ward, Bruce Wayne, has had a…difficult life. Because of this, he feels a yearning to fight injustice. He has tried to train himself to take on the injustice he sees, but he is unrefined, reckless, and lacking in formal training. I would ask you to give him the skills he needs.”
“Why me? Why a terrorist and an outlaw?”
“You once spared my life out of respect. I am hoping that man still exists. Bruce Wayne bears that same countenance. In another life, he could be your son, and I am too old, else I would train him myself. Besides, Bruce sees me as the doddering butler I have become. He knows nothing of the warrior I once was.”
“You are anything but doddering, my host.”
Alfred smiled. And with that, the interview was over. A sound outside the window drew Alfred’s momentary attention and Ra’s al Ghul vanished.
Bruce Wayne never did get to experience the nightlife of Dubai, at least, not until much later. That very day he was kidnapped from the Burj Khalifa. No one saw the kidnappers, no one knew anything. He simply vanished from his hotel room. His worthy butler flew to Dubai and demanded action by the authorities. He threw the weight of the Wayne name and fortune behind the manhunt, but for three months the effort was in vain. No trace of Bruce Wayne was ever found. Alfred returned to America and to Gotham to wait for the inevitable return of a casket instead of a man.
It was early November before Alfred saw Bruce again. By this time the act had become real and Alfred had despaired that Ra’s had actually killed Bruce.
It was a rainy, cold day in Gotham. Alfred was in the kitchen, brewing a bit of tea, when he heard the door to Wayne Manor open. He rushed out into the hall. There stood Bruce, but not Bruce. Alfred could see in his eyes, on his face, that a change had come. The wild, angry boy that left for the desert had returned a cold, furious man, molded and shaped.
Batman spoke.
“Hello, Alfred. Sorry I’ve been gone so long. You should probably call off the search now. I was…delayed. But I had a great vacation, thanks.”
Alfred smiled at Bruce’s wry humor.
“Master Bruce…I’m so glad you’re safe. Your father would never have forgiven me for failing to protect his son.”
Bruce smiled.
“I’m back and I’m fine, Alfred. I’ll tell you about it sometime. In the meantime, is there anything to eat? I’m rather hungry.”
Behind Bruce Wayne, Batman simmered, waiting to be unleashed. Ra’s al Ghul had trained him well.
a simple man 