JustIIce League: Calamitous World

8 - The Bitter Unwelcome

An echoing roll of thunder shook the sky as Alfred gripped his steering wheel. He knew he had to focus on the road ahead of him. The rain was relentless as it poured from above and crashed into his windshield. He took a deep breath as the wipers of his Mustang pushed the never ending stream of water out of the way. Alfred's stare seemed to drift as he looked at the pavement speeding under him. Would this even work?

Alfred had been driving for days searching for a lost friend whose whereabouts were unknown. It gave Alfred a more positive outlook on Vestra's ability to find people. If he had trouble finding him, than Vestra would be struggling even more. This friend was the key to stopping Bruce. Though Alfred was pleased at the thought, more anxious thoughts clouded his mind.

After Bruce had left Alfred alone, after they had had the never ending argument of getting Bruce to have control again, Alfred stood in the Bat Cave filled with frustration. It had been a blessing and a curse that Bruce was stubborn, but he had never thought that Bruce's stubbornness would be in the control of his more evil self. 

But what could he have done? Bruce left no room for Alfred in his picture of vengeance, other than the threat of taking him out if he got in the way. What could he do? Bruce had left. At this point he was probably scouting his route for his plan to blow up her base. Alfred scoffed at the thought. 

Bruce had done over a year's worth of research. He had tried every possible thing he could think of to defeat Vestra. When he had finally discovered her hideout, Bruce had scanned over the gas lines around the base hundreds, if not thousands, of times searching for a way in. Before this serum, Bruce said it was too dangerous, that it would only kill people who were once apart of the Justice League, but now, after Bruce had convinced himself of this delusion to kill Vestra , did he question his morals enough to surrender innocents to his revenge and scorn. 

Alfred had seen a lot in his life. He had served in numerous wars, worked for secret agencies across the world, he had even created a new type of rose through his botany hobby. All of those things had taught Alfred a valuable lesson: We can all create monsters. 

Though the rose breeding, didn't create tangible creatures, he had developed roses so ugly that they became useless and unwanted in nature. They grew the longest thorns and presented the most atrocious colors and smelled like rotten things unearthed from hell. 

It took Alfred a lot of thinking to finally realize and admit to himself that what he had done to Bruce was of a similar thing he had done to the roses. 

He made freaks of nature that didn't belong or help the world in any way. 

Alfred let guilt flood his stomach as he signaled for a left turn. He had been driving on an abandoned dirt road, mist starting to block his vision worse than the downpour that was attacking his car. 

After driving for another hour or so, Alfred slowed to a stop. 

In front of him, a green gate connected to a wooden fence, stood locked shut. Alfred sat frozen in his seat as he thought for a moment. 

The fog around him made it impossible to tell if this was actually the right place, or if he was at the edge of an abandoned property. Alfred scanned the fence around the gate and spotted a sign that that read, "No trespassing. Trespassers will shot and left to the dogs."

Alfred grinned and shook his head in awe. This was the place. Only Superman would leave a message like that for him. Alfred reached for his umbrella next to him as he thought about all the time Superman used to refer to Bruce Wayne's butler as, "Old Dog." 

Alfred opened his door and slammed it shut to prevent the rain from spoiling his car's custom seats. He trudged through the muddy road and up to the gate and analyzed the lock further. 

It was a piece of thick iron bent around one of the fence's wooden posts. Alfred sighed as he realized that Clark had bent it around the gate's metal and wooden post multiple times and then had fused the metal parts together using his laser vision. (Though Alfred was unsure of what Clark actually called that power.)

Alfred looked around him some more. Luckily, there was some tall trees surrounding the fence that Alfred could hide his car in as he ventured onto the property. 

After parking his Mustang in the foliage, Alfred climbed over the gate and began walking up the dirt path. The rain began to fall even harder than before, making each step stick to the mud and make the path he was following seem endless. Eventually Alfred saw a gap in the white mist that surrounded him. Through it, he could see yellow hues and the image of a small stone cabin form. 

Alfred picked up his pace and arrived at the house. He lowered his umbrella and stared at it. It was small and compact. It was probably only two rooms. 

Alfred took the creaky steps of the porch to the door. He took in a deep breathe and let out a nervous sigh. The chilly air made his exhale match the fog around him. 

Would this work? Clark hadn't seen him since after the uprising. He knew that Clark's reaction to his presence would be mixed. Though he had left a message for him, Alfred was sure that Clark never considered that Alfred would be standing on his doorstep. Alfred had heard rumors of the Man of Steel crumbling; rumors of how the hero that was once admired by all was now hated because of his disappearance. 

Alfred once again focused himself and raised a fist to knock on the green wooden door. 

But before Alfred moved a muscle, a familiar, tired face opened the door, eyes sunken and hollow. After moments of bitter silence, a course deep voice spoke. 

"You're not welcome here."