An Army of Peculiar (Gotham/Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children AU)

It's in the Fall

The abrupt way in which the visits ceased was jarring. One day, the vast grounds of the manor were a poplar gathering for all sorts of odd birds, and the next day Bruce went out to find none. The swish of wings and various calls he had become accustomed to hearing over the months turned to eerie silence.

He asked the staff if they noticed the change, and even they found it noteworthy. The gardener voiced his suspicions that the change was brought about by a predator moving into the ground to frighten them all off.

He noticed Alfred seemed wary, constantly casting his gaze out the windows as if looking for something. Eventuality he became antsy, smuggled a gun under he jacket, and pretended he was going for a walk to clear his head.

Bruce was not young and unobservant as he once was, so he noticed both the odd behavior and metal band of the butt of the handgun hiding under the material. He made it a point of going alone, instructing Bruce to finish up homework while he was out.

About an hour later there was the muffled sound of a shot far in the distance. No one besides Bruce seemed overly worried about that. The gardener only smiled at patted Bruce on the arm, "I bet he got 'im, whatever it was that scared away your birds."

Alfred did come back, limping, but otherwise unharmed. He told a story about stepping in a hole that Bruce did not believe for a single second. But he smiled, so relieved every time he looked at Bruce, like he felt considerably better.

"Does it hurt?" Bruce asked tentatively when he bent down to place the new ice pack around Alfred's knee.

Alfred grinned, still seeming lighter than he had in days, as if some of his worry was lifted, "Not in the slightest, my boy!"

"So-" Bruce backed up a few paces before he ran at Alfred, imitating the motions he would have used to jump in his lap; Alfred looked panicked as he hurried to put his hands up to catch the boys progress; however Bruce stopped himself before making any sort of contact, "-if I had jumped on your lap, that wouldn't have hurt, right?" Bruce asked innocently swaying his shoulders for added cuteness.

Alfred narrowed his eyes, unconvinced, and waged a finger, "You are a devious little bugger, you are! I don't know where you get it from! Olga must be a bad influence on you!"

"So it does hurt then?" Bruce prodded, smiling impishly.

Alfred snatched him by the arms pulling him onto the chair, proceeding to tickle him within an inch of his life until he was screaming for Olga to save him.

Olga did come to the door, frantic until she saw what the ruckus was about. Her look turned unimpressed as she muttered in her native tongue, rolling her eyes before walking away again, a dish towel and dripping cup still in her hand.

Regardless, Alfred routinely went on those walks of his, always with a gun tucked away somewhere. Sometimes there would be a shot, sometimes not; sometimes Alfred "fell" during his walks and limped home. Bruce was always just glad he made it back each time.

The birds, however, never really returned, not fully. The turtle dove visited once a week, but the rest were seemingly gone for good. Whatever had been haunting the woods must have been enough to keep them from wanting to venture near again.

That was confirmed fully when Bill, the gardener was found dead one morning on the grounds nearest to the forest line. One of the maids opening the curtains for the morning light saw him fist, shrieking loud enough to bring the entire house to her. Bruce had seen everything before the adults had noticed and ushered him away.

Bill's body had been battered, yes, but the most horrid thing about it had been his missing eyes. Bruce had never forgotten what the monster did, what he had seen happen that night. It was weeks before he slept again rather than sitting up in bed, a kitchen knife tucked under his pillow. The nightmares haunted him regardless of whether or not he closed his eyes.