Sebastian kept his gaze fixed on the road, weaving between the cars with precision. Despite every maneuver, the three motorcyclists remained at his side like hunting dogs, waiting for the right moment.
A turnoff appeared on the right: a secondary exit. Sebastian steered decisively, entering it and leaving the traffic behind. The asphalt led him toward a more open area, an industrial district that had been evacuated years before due to a chemical attack. The gas was no longer dangerous, but the place never prospered again. Rusted warehouses, half-deserted streets, and fallen signs greeted him like a ghost town.
Well… less traffic. Fewer witnesses. Sebastian knew that was both a plus and a minus.
"At least it seems their objective isn't murder," he murmured, breaking the silence as he turned onto the empty avenue. "If it were, this would have gotten a lot more complicated. What they want is the young heir to the fami—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
The motorcyclist on his left, as if reading his mind, pulled out a firearm.
"Shit…" Sebastian muttered through gritted teeth. Why did I have to open my mouth?
The motorcyclist accelerated, trying to align himself with the driver's window.
Sebastian reacted without hesitation. He slammed on the brakes, the BMW roared and jerked, and at the same time he opened the driver's side door with a sharp movement.
The motorcyclist, who had accelerated confidently, had no time to react. The motorcycle slammed into the door, bending it backward. The man was sent flying, spinning in the air, as the motorcycle slid across the pavement, sparks flying beneath the scraped metal.
The two companions behind had to maneuver sharply to avoid crashing into the fallen motorcycle.
Dick, in the back seat, clutched the armrest, his eyes wide open.
"Good heavens, Sebastian!"
The ex-soldier gripped the steering wheel, his face imperturbable.
"A good trainee butler must improvise, young master."
Sebastian glanced at the bent door, unable to close freely and cutting off the air. Great. I just hope they won't dock it from my pay.
He had no time to complain any further.
Far away from them, turning off a side street, appeared the same van that had followed them before. Now it was blocking their path.
Sebastian's heart raced for a moment, but his hands remained firm on the wheel. There was no room to turn: the buildings on both sides of the street were too narrow, the exits were blocked by debris. Braking wasn't an option either: the two motorcyclists would catch up to him in seconds, and he'd be caught between the hammer and the anvil.
If I go straight ahead… I'll crash.
"Shit."
In the backseat, Dick leaned forward, his face tense.
"I don't want to interrupt your thoughts, Sebastian… but we're headed for a crash."
The trainee butler didn't take his eyes off the front of the road.
"Thank you for reminding me, Young Master Richard. You're a great detective."
Dick blushed a little, biting his lip as he realized the obviousness of his comment.
Sebastian refocused. His brain was racing with calculations. He only had seconds left.
800 meters. Straight road.
600 meters. Rubble on the sides, gaps between the road and buildings, but none wide enough.
400 meters. A gap barely 1.5 meters wide. There was no way the BMW would fit, not without doing something stupid.
200 meters. The roar of the engine filled his ears. Sebastian swallowed. I don't think I'm going to do this…
100 meters. The headlights illuminated the van's sheet metal. There was no turning back.
I saw it in movies… but in real life…
Sebastian took a deep breath and spoke firmly, his gaze straight ahead.
"Young master… please hold on."
Dick looked at him for a moment and nodded, his back settling back into the seat.
In the mirrors, Sebastian could see the motorcycles slowing down. The riders also seemed convinced the game was over.
Perfect, he thought coldly. Let your guard down.
He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles tense, and accelerated. The roar of the engine mingled with the echoes of the narrow street. Faster. Even faster.
A slight left turn. The front wheels hit the curb, the chassis vibrating violently.
Dick opened his eyes and noticed the gap between the van and the building. The space was littered with debris and barely a meter and a half wide.
"Sebastian… I'm not the best at math, but I don't think we'll fit through there."
His voice no longer sounded fake. It was real, tinged with regret for not having protested sooner.
Sebastian didn't respond immediately. He just maintained his concentration, calculating impossible angles. Finally, he murmured with icy calm,
"Calm down, young master. I know what I'm doing."
Lie, he growled inwardly, feeling the adrenaline burning in his veins.
The mound of rubble appeared right in front of them. Perfect. A makeshift trampoline.
The BMW lifted onto one side, balancing on two wheels. For an instant, the whole world tilted sideways.
Dick felt himself falling toward the side door; if it weren't for the seatbelt, he would have ended up with his face slammed against the window.
"What the hell—?!" he managed to scream.
Sebastian wasn't listening. His mind was no longer on Dick, nor on the van blocking the street. It was only on absolute control of the steering wheel, balancing the vehicle's weight, maintaining that impossible trajectory long enough to squeeze through the opening.
Steel crunched against the walls. The air filled with dust and sparks.
And it happened.
He made it at the last moment.
The van driver reacted and tried to move the vehicle to close the gap, but it was too late. The BMW, half a body length away, barreled through like a bullet. It grazed the walls, sparks flew, the sheet metal squealed like a wounded animal... and, miraculously, it emerged on the other side.
Sebastian steadied the car with a sharp movement, the steering wheel firmly in his hands. The engine roared as he pressed the accelerator again, even faster, moving away from the ambush.
Dick slumped back against the chair, his heart still pounding.
"I can't believe we… drove through there!"
Sebastian didn't respond. He simply kept his eyes on the road, his face serious. Only when the city opened up again in front of them, when the streets became more familiar, did the tension in his shoulders ease a little.
The silhouette of the Wayne Enterprises building appeared in the distance. A sure fate, at least for now.
Fortunately, there were no further surprises. Without further ambushes, without further pursuit, they made it back in one piece.
Well… all of them, except for the poor BMW. The bent door, the scratched paint, and the scarred sidewall told the story of the day.
Sebastian turned off the engine and exhaled slowly.
"At least we made it, young master."
Dick let out a nervous laugh, adrenaline still pumping through his body.
"Yeah… although I don't think Bruce's going to be happy with the condition of the car."
Sebastian looked down at the folded door, unable to close, and sighed.
They're definitely going to dock this paycheck.
Sebastian nodded to Dick before getting out of the car. He didn't need to open the door: the poor thing fell to the ground when he tried to use it as a support to get out. The metallic sound echoed as a cruel reminder of the abuse the vehicle had suffered.
Sighing, Sebastian walked around the car and carefully opened the back door for Dick.
"Young Master, do you want me to wait here?"
Dick hesitated for a moment, his hand on the doorframe. Then he shook his head.
"Come with me. At first, when Bruce assigned you to me, I thought I'd send you on your way as soon as we arrived. But…" He smirked, "I think you've earned a break from dusting and napkin folding."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow slightly, surprised by the comment.
Dick gestured to the car's sorry state: the door bent on the floorboards, the paint scratched, the side battle-scarred.
"Besides... I think Alfred's going to give you a real hard time when he sees how you left this BMW. It's a good thing we didn't take the Phantom. That would have been a disaster."
A light laugh escaped his lips.
Sebastian, his composure intact, replied curtly.
"I'm glad to have given you at least that much entertainment, young master."
Dick walked purposefully toward the entrance, Sebastian following a couple of steps behind him, straight as a shadow.
The lobby of Wayne Enterprises was imposing: gleaming marble, steel columns, and the company logo dominating the wall. Behind the counter, a secretary was typing furiously on her computer, headphones on, her eyes glued to the screen.
Dick leaned slightly toward the desk, resting his hand on the counter.
"Excuse me, I need to speak with Lucius Fox."
Without looking up from the monitor, the woman answered in an automated voice, as if reciting a memorized script.
"Do you have an appointment? …If not, Mr. Fox is unavailable. As CEO of Wayne Enterprises, he is extremely busy. Please submit a request to the Executive Coordination Department. It will be reviewed, and we will contact you within two to three months."
Dick cleared his throat, somewhat uncomfortable.
"Well, you see, I'm—"
The secretary interrupted him, still not looking at him.
"No, sir, no matter how nice you tell me I am, I can't get you in. And I don't care if you're the owner of a major company, or if you threaten to fire me because 'Wayne Enterprises will lose a valuable partnership'… and I don't care if you turn out to be some long-lost son of the boss. No appointment, no entry."
Dick froze, his mouth ajar, his face burning with embarrassment.
Behind him, Sebastian kept his expression neutral, hands clasped behind his back. But inside… he was reveling. Glorious. Young Master Robin, defeated by a multitasking secretary who didn't even look up at him.
Dick's mouth remained ajar, unable to find words. The secretary continued typing, completely oblivious to the monumental ridicule she had just plunged young Master Wayne into.
Sebastian, behind him, decided to intervene. He stepped forward with the same serenity with which he would pour himself a cup of tea.
"Excuse me, miss."
The secretary continued writing, barely muttering distractedly:
"Yes, whatever you need, but you can't get in without an appointment."
Sebastian didn't flinch. His voice was as polite as it was sharp.
"I would appreciate it if you would confirm in your internal diary whether Mr. Lucius Fox has even five minutes. Young Master Richard Grayson doesn't usually show up without a compelling reason."
The keyboard stopped. For the first time, the secretary looked up.
Dick shifted uncomfortably, as if he wanted to disappear into the ground.
The woman's eyes widened as she recognized the face of the boy in front of her. The rehearsed confidence in her tone instantly crumbled.
"Richard... Grayson?"
"Present," Dick murmured, trying to smile, though the blush on his cheeks betrayed him.
Sebastian, at her side, bowed his head with an impeccable gesture, as if the entire scene had been under control from the beginning.
"We would greatly appreciate your cooperation."
The secretary swallowed and quickly began dialing an internal number.
"Of course… of course, I'll call Mr. Fox right away."
Meanwhile, Dick turned his head to Sebastian and glared.
"Did you really have to say it like that?" he whispered through gritted teeth.
Sebastian responded with the same calmness with which he would comment on the weather.
"A good butler never lets his master look ridiculous… at least not in public."