Wayne Manor/The Batcave
Alfred Pennyworth was worried. Despite what some might think, this was not a particularly common state of mind for him. He did not worry when Master Bruce went out into the night to bring justice to Gotham's seedy underbelly, not anymore. Too many times he'd watched his employer drag himself back almost from beyond the grave through sheer force of will to be easily concerned over his wellbeing. Similarly, he didn't feel more than a twinge of anxiety over Masters Dick, Tim or Damian swinging from rooftop to rooftop. They were young, true, but they were each trained by the best, fit as fiddles and determined to emulate Master Bruce as completely as they could. No, for the most part he didn't worry about them any more, just waited patiently for them to drag themselves back to the cave so he could stitch their wounds, feed their empty bellies and wash their sodden uniforms. Even now that some of the birds had left the nest, they would still periodically return for a taste of Alfred's cooking or a display of the proper way to close a knife wound.
But today, he was worried. Master Bruce had now been absent from the cave for three days and three nights without any explanation. Normally, if he was going to be away with the Justice League or chasing Miss Talia across the globe, he'd at least leave a note so that Alfred wouldn't waste time making meals no one was going to eat. Well, not more than usual, anyway. Master Bruce didn't always remember to consider the feelings of others, Alfred reflected, but he certainly considered the well being of Gotham and there were currently no members of the extended Bat-family patrolling its streets apart from Master Damian and he could hardly be expected to handle the entire city alone.
No, Master Bruce had not given any notice that he would be absent from the city and that worried Alfred more than he cared to say. He'd been distracting himself all day by dusting different parts of the manor and the cave, doing jobs he'd be putting off (like cleaning the Batcomputer's screen, wretched thing, why does it need to be so large?) and generally avoiding thinking about the problem at hand. But now that night had fallen and the Batsignal lit up the sky, Alfred could hardly put if off any longer, especially not with the news that Talia and her contingent of the League of Assassins had arrived in Gotham.
Moving at a determined pace, Alfred walked from his station in the kitchen to the west study and took the stairs down the cave. The hinges on the ornamental grandfather clock that did the job of concealing the cave's entrance from view seemed to be squeaking slightly, he noticed, and were clearly in want of oiling. As he reached the bottom of the steps he spotted young Master Damian in training section of the cave, hurling knives at a defenceless dummy with all the ferocity Alfred had come to suspect from the current bearer of the title 'Robin'. His fascination with sharp weapons weren't shared by even Master Bruce and Alfred felt he really aught to have a talk with the boy about it one day soon, perhaps to explain exactly why it was Master Bruce objected to causing lethal harm. Master Bruce was hardly going to sit down and have a heart to heart with the boy, after all.
But for now, Alfred contented himself with striding over to the colossal Batcomputer, leaning over the microphone and saying "Condition Empty Nest, initiate Protocol Swarm" in crisp, clear tones. The computer hummed, whirred and went to work. Faces flashed up on the screen, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake and many others, and the computer reeled off contact details and dispatched messages. After a while Damian strolled over, implying a complete lack of interest with every movement. "Who are you contacting Pennyworth?"
Alfred gave a wry smile and raised an eyebrow. "Who do you think, Master Damian? I am calling everyone."
