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Alfred paced the large pool, the manor was in a ruckus, and Thomas and Martha’s pup was nowhere to be seen. At first they’d checked the show pools, calling out for the lost boy, but the only noteworthy sight was the new guests. Large, heavy-set, and gruff like the sailors Alfred encountered out in the ocean when he was younger. Back when he would capsize boats with a now long-lost pod. Since then, when he was a few years into adulthood and had a small home of his own, a group of mer traffickers had caught him during a period in which he was down with an illness. He now resided in the Wayne manor, Alfred had his duties to take care of Thomas and Martha, the two captive-born mers that inhabited the same pool, and those whom he raised.
Though it was against his will, Alfred truly cared for the small pod, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect the three. Now their small pup, Bruce, was missing. Though Alfred suspected the new guests had something to do with this. He called out a low trill, calling the closest mer to him. Martha swam over frantically, her fins fanning out in a nervous tic, and her dark maroon tail treading water below.
“You found him?” Martha asked, her eyes just pinpricks.
Alfred gave her a reassuring smile, “Not yet, Miss Martha. I suspect he’s hiding from the men just outside the pools.”
“Oh, he must be so scared. He’s never seen anybody so tall. Those men are a little much though, Alfred. Why do you think they’re here?”
“I have my suspicions, but no solid answer for you. Don’t worry, dear. It will be fine.” However, nothing could stop the dread that was curling inside his ribs.
Bruce wasn’t hiding , he was just watching from a distance. Ignoring his pod’s frantic calls for him wasn’t in the plan, but he needed to know what these humans were up to. He could speak English, thank you very much. Alfred had taught him it, along with the most common Mer dialects. He poked his head up, just above the water, so his ears could register the conversations being held.
“Listen Wayne, them mers are gonna eat you alive.” Bruce scrunched his nose, human voices were so rough. “I can get rid of them for a price, we’re both well aware of how much sits in those pretty little bank accounts of yours. I even brought my supplies.” The voice tapered off into something predatory and Bruce shrank back against the wall.
“They were my wife’s pet project to begin with. I agree though, I no longer want them in my house, not with how these new laws are shaping out to be. I don’t want the hassle.” Bruce recognized that voice. It was deep and was more posh compared to the other, but it was the manor man. He knew that the man’s wife brought him toys and other knick-knacks, Bruce thought she was nice for a human, but she still wouldn’t let them leave. The man only glared and sneered in their direction. “Do what you want with them, although preferably you don’t make too much of a mess. I’ll send you the funds when you’ve done the job.”
His chest felt tight, Bruce quickly darted back underneath the water, and could make out the sharp grin on the tall, unknown man’s face as he walked by. He wasn’t stupid , he knew that humans didn’t like mers, but humans also thought they were dumb animals that just needed to be put down. Screw them! Good thing Alfred couldn’t read minds, otherwise he’d be getting a sharp cuff to the head. He didn’t want to live in a tank with a few cruddy weeds and human toys. He wanted to see the ocean, like in Alfred’s stories! This man was bad just like the rest of them… and this man smelled like blood. He had to warn Alfred and his parents.
Bruce let out a sharp trill, hoping they’d hear him from wherever they were. He didn’t recognize which pool he’d swam into, but he’d also been distracted with tailing the men. “Mama!” He swam into her arms and was squished against her stomach as she checked over him.
“Where were you! I was worried sick. We’ve been looking and looking for you! You can never do that again.” She turned him over so he could look her in the eyes. “ Never .”
Bruce chirped. “Okay, okay! But, there’s a man! He’s–” Blood filled his lungs, coating his mouth, and his eyes widened. His mother’s mouth hung agape, her fangs broken and cracked, and there was a hole in the side of her face. One that kept spilling blood. He was choking. The blood coated the water and he was choking and his mother wasn’t blinking or seeing and she wasn’t holding him anymore as he drifted away from her still-warm arms.
Arms wrapped around him and dragged him away from his mother, away from his family, and he couldn’t bear to look up at their face. He let out a keen, curling in on himself, and he let himself float away.
Alfred wasn’t a coarse man, but there were many choice and nasty words cycling through his head at the moment. There was fresh sharp grief that hung in his heart as he carried the limp pup away from his mother. He shut his eyes against the fresh image of his adopted daughter and son’s body and focused on getting their child out alive. Alfred had a plan, he always had to have a plan, and he knew a route to take him out into fresh waters once more. He couldn’t leave Martha and Thomas, but they never wanted to leave their enclosed pools. There was no convincing the two young mers to leave their home, so he stayed. He stayed and didn’t try hard enough, maybe if he just forced the two and their pup to come with, they wouldn’t be floating limp, bloated, and belly up in the waters now.
He forced the grate open, quickly stuffing himself and the boy into the tunnel. Bruce was terribly quiet and it only shoved the stake of grief in his heart further. The child didn’t struggle or cry out for his mother, there was one awful painful whimper from Bruce before he went quiet and pliant. He’d rested the boy’s head on his shoulder before beginning the journey towards the sea, through tunnels and the dirty, foggy water of the Gotham sewers.
“Are they dead?” Alfred startled, slowing his journey at the sound of the pup’s soft voice. He looked down at the small, blank face for a moment. If he could not see the glassy grief in the boy’s eyes, he might think the child a corpse.
“Yes, my dear boy. I’m afraid so.” Alfred gave his hushed reply. Bruce simply blinked, turning his head against his shoulder once more before he started quiet little sobs. Alfred held him tighter.
He could finally breathe. The murky waters evening out to something clearer, something cleaner, and the water sang of home. Bruce had long since quieted, retreating back into his fickle emotionless front, but Alfred could see the boy relax slightly into the water’s song. They were finally out at sea. They were home in their instinct’s eyes, but they were without the pod they once had. Just a grandfather and his grandson in the ocean.
“Alfred?” Bruce mumbled. He looked down at the pup, who had since untucked his face from Alfred’s shoulder. “Do you know how to live out here? Or are we going to get eaten… or killed?”
Alfred’s heart ached once more for the boy in his arms. “Don’t worry, chum. Mers don’t often forget how to live out in the sea. I will teach you, Mister Bruce, how to live and how to thrive in our new home.”
Bruce nodded slightly, his eyes now taking something of a determined sheen. “And Mister Bruce, someday perhaps, more mers will come and join our home.”
“Like a pod?”
“Maybe so. Don't worry, we'll have a family once more, dear boy.”