Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s cold. Not really something that Alvin thought would bother him, but in this moment it commands his attention, distracting him from the task before him as he waits. He sighs and his breath forms a mist that disappears as quickly as it took shape. Never thought he’d miss having a cape. It was good for something, even if he did hate the fact that pretty much everybody dragged him around by it. Fun times.

He’s come so far in the past five months, working up to this moment. Bruce would be disappointed in him for the way he’s used Batman’s teachings lately but Bruce would’ve been disappointed in him for choosing to go back in time at all, what Alvin gets up to in the interests of saving the family isn’t bound by Bruce’s opinions anymore. Besides, there’s no point worrying about that now, he’ll be disappointing Bruce and probably everyone he’s ever known a lot more before the year’s out. Hell, before the night’s out probably. But if that’s what it takes, then that’s what it takes.

Something stirs in the undergrowth below him. Alvin tenses, leaning out just a little further from his perch careful not to dislodge any of the snow further out on the branch. He watches intently for a few moments more until just as he’s starting to think it was an animal and his target’s running late, the undergrowth parts and a person dressed all in black wearing a mask and goggles steps into view. About damn time. Operation: Piss Off Ra’s al Ghul is a go.

Without a sound he drops out of the tree right on top of his target. Quick as he can he trades clothes with the assassin and ties him to the tree. Not the most ideal of situations but it’ll do. He doesn’t have time to think of anything better and if nothing else at least the guy can be grateful that Alvin didn’t leave him next to naked and unconscious in the cold. The clothes themselves fit nicely, thankfully, Alvin had to wait for days before he found an assassin who looked to be the right size and he’s none to happy to know that the kid is probably fourteen at most. Oh well, no use grumbling about lost inches now. He blames the coffee though.

To make up for some of the time he lost trading clothes with his target, Alvin runs most of the way through the woods only slowing when he knows he’s got the time. Leisurely he makes his way through the last stretch of undergrowth, then finally out into the clearing where the local base of the League of Assassin’s lies. It’s not a very large structure above ground, but Alvin knows he’s walking over a decent sized complex hidden just beneath the surface. A guard stands just to one side of the front door to the small house that serves as cover for the base, watching Alvin approach. This is the most nerve wracking part of this plan. He’s been counting off the minutes since he left his target in the snow. If he’s too early the guard will probably figure him out pretty quick, too late and he risks the next patrol finding his unfortunate target before he can get anything done.

Alvin keeps his breathing and movements steady, by his calculations he’s right on time. The guard scrutinizes him for a long moment as he approaches. She makes a slight gesture with her hand. Asking if he saw anything on his route. He shakes his head. She nods and waves him on. Worked like a charm.

Without pausing he walks through the door and down the steps into the base itself. He takes some time to look as though he’s looking for something in front of some cameras, not for the person on security, but for the recording, better not to look like he knows exactly where he’s going when the tape gets reviewed later. If his meddling with time didn’t somehow change the schematics of this place from the ones he memorized when he was Robin, then his goal should be… Ah, perfect. He takes a turn down a random hallway then doubles back and this time makes sure he isn’t caught on any camera. With that done he reaches out and knocks on the door of the security room, withdrawing his hand into the shadows as quickly as he can. A moment later the very confused looking guard pokes his head out and Alvin promptly hits him in the side of the head with the butt of the gun he stole along with his clothes. Easy.

Now to do what he does best; be better at tech than everyone Ra’s has ever hired ever.

Outside, he knows, the next patrol is about to discover the assassin Alvin left in snow, they’ll raise the alarm fast if he doesn’t shut down their comms now. So he does as discretely as possible, nobody should know their communications have been cut until he wants them to.

From there he goes deeper into the system until he finds a route to turning off the power completely. Taking a detour or two along the way for some essentials. On one camera he can already see the latest patrol running up to the door guard, he’s been found out, but too bad he’s had plenty of time. He cuts power to everything but the cameras, if all goes well they’ll think he left the cameras on to drive home the message he’s about to send, really though he’s just sending in a video resume. All a part of the plan.

He watches as the door guard gathers a few people to her and in a moment it’s clear that she’s heading for the security room. Smart. He’ll have to watch out for her in the next phase, speaking of which, about time he got started on part two of this plan. He climbs up on the console, opens a vent, hoists himself up inside and closes it expertly behind him. This complex is one of the older ones, built before Ra’s or Talia ever encountered Batman. They haven’t bothered changing anything here because it’s unlikely Bruce would ever take an interest in it. So all the vents are still large enough for a person to crawl through.

Time to become the boogeyman.

The League assassins are well trained. Skilled in the art of killing, capable of fighting under any conditions, and willing to do anything to succeed in their mission.

But even they are not immune to fear.

Alvin, perhaps better than most, knows how to terrify them. Anyone can become unnerved by the dark when up against an enemy that wears that same darkness like a cloak. This is something Alvin’s learned to use to his advantage of course, fear of what your fighting leads to mistakes.

Alvin is of course no stranger to fighting in conditions where he can’t see at all, so taking down enemies who are carrying flashlights and other sources of light in an attempt to even see him is a piece of cake. There are a few who are capable of fighting in the dark and a few more who have equipment, whether thermal or infrared, that allow them to see him. Hardly more than a few though. It could’ve been a lot more trouble if shutting off the power didn’t mean that he’d ensured that they couldn’t open the locks on their supply vaults.

Sure if he’d given them the time they would’ve been able to get in manually, but he’d had no intention of giving them that time. Most of them go down fast and hard. But as their numbers dwindle, Alvin comes across two who are carrying a transceiver. Someone it seems had thought ahead for the power going out. He’s willing to bet he knows which of them it was too. The pair are picking their way towards the supply vaults like a few before them but they’re much more on their guard. Walking almost back to back shining flashlights into any places they hear a noise. These two might be a tad more difficult to take down.

When they come across an assassin that Alvin had already defeated they start swearing and report into their transceiver in Russian. Apparently that man had been pivotal to their plan. Too bad he’s far too unconscious to be of any help. Alvin can hear a feminine voice respond with disappointment, he assumes it’s probably the door guard as he hasn’t yet come across her. She orders them to proceed to the vault and that they shouldn’t linger too long.

Her warning comes a little too late. Alvin had started moving as soon as they started paying more attention to the radio than to their surroundings. As she finishes speaking he kicks the grate above the pair open and drops down straight onto the shoulders of one of them. He uses his weight and a little momentum to toss the first assassin into his companion.

He’s back on his feet before either of them can gather their wits. They scramble for their guns for any weapon they can get a hold of, but Alvin’s faster. He swipes a knife off the unconscious assassin and jabs it into the closest assassin’s arm, quickly removing it as he spins into a kick to the other assassin’s face. Ducking under a slash from one the injured assassin’s knife he elbows the man in the crotch and then easily sweeps his legs out from under him. That’s one down.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees the second assassin finally wrestle his gun out and take aim. Alvin dodges back out of the glow of the man’s flashlight. Staying just out of sight and moving quickly Alvin ensures that the assassin can’t aim well enough to hit him. Flashes from the gunfire light up the room in brief intervals, bullets whizzing by their mark and coming to rest in the walls, floor, and finally in the body of the assassin Alvin had knocked out earlier.

The shock of hitting a friendly must get to the assassin because he hesitates for just a moment after that and just a moment is all Alvin needs. He moves in from the side, knocking the gun and flashlight from the assassin’s hands. Swinging around behind the man Alvin locks an arm around his neck and after that it’s only a few moments before it’s over.

Alvin sits in the dark catching his breath while the voice of the door guard demands answers from her fallen subordinates. If this were the League Alvin knew from his original timeline – the Ra’s he knew – he never would’ve made it this far and if he were to try any of this again he knows Ra’s would adjust and Alvin wouldn’t survive a second attempt. After all, as much as he hates the man, Alvin will never deny that Ra’s is good at what he does. Right now though he’s in the unique position of holding all the cards. All the months of playing cat and mouse with lackeys, all the sacrifices he’s had to make, and it all amounts to this.

Bait for a really dangerous fish.

Picking up the radio, Alvin takes a deep breath, and speaks into it, “I’m afraid they can’t come to the phone right now, can I take a message?”

There’s a beat of silence then the woman speaks in a thick russian accent, “You think yourself very funny, I see, little shadow, but when I catch you I swear--”

“Let’s not go making promises we can’t keep.” Alvin cuts off what was sure to be a most gruesome threat. “We could play this game all night, but I’ve made my point already. You have what? Two? Three? More on your side and you’re not rash enough to believe that they’ll be any harder for me to take down than the last thirty.”

“…And you are not stupid enough to come hunting me when I know you are coming,” she responds, a bit more sedate now. “So it is to be a stalemate.”

Alvin laughs ruefully. “Not quite. As I said, I don’t think I need to press onwards to get my point across. You know now what happens when I’m crossed and if you’d be kind enough to pass that message on to the Demon’s Head, I’d be most obliged.”

“What a bold little shadow you are,” she says. “To know who it is you are trifling with and still do such things. I do not know if you are a fool or simply crazy.”

With a grin, Alvin answers, “Well, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

He sets the transceiver down and gets to his feet. Time to blow this joint. He flips the hood of his stolen assassin uniform up over his head and makes for the exit. It’ll be sometime before they get the power back on, so by the time Ra’s gets his message Alvin will be long gone. Time to see if he gets a bite or if he’ll get bitten.

The Demon’s Head is unreadable in this moment. His eyes flickering from screen to screen as he watches the events of the previous night unfold. One finger casually tapping the side of his wine glass as if he were deep in thought, but what his thoughts are is unknowable. He could be enraged at his ninjas for failing to defeat one intruder who looks to be little more than a teenager or perhaps he is angered at the nerve of this intruder for attempting this at all. Perhaps he is planning revenge or… possibly – just possibly – he is intrigued.

Rurik does not know. He is only relaying what was told to him by the survivors.

“How long in total?” The master asks abruptly.

Caught off guard at being addressed, Rurik can only question, “My lord?”

The master’s eyes turn towards him for a moment, fixing him with the sickly green gaze. “In total, how long did it take him to accomplish these feats. From the moment he attacked the patrol to the moment he defeated the last operative?”

Rurik answers obediently. “Two hours, twenty-five minutes, and thirteen seconds, my lord.”

“How many casualties?”

“Of the thirty-five operatives in the base… two.” That is quite astonishing, considering the damage that had been done to them. Twisted limbs, broken bones, some of them will likely be killed anyway considering they’re now useless to the League, but the intruder himself had hardly killed anyone at all.

“I see.” The master leans back in his chair watching the battles as they loop on the screens before him. There is silence for quite some time, then once more the master speaks, “He is fascinatingly skilled for one so young. I do wonder though… what is he planning…”

It would be unwise to question without an invitation to do so, so Rurik remains quiet in his wonder about the master’s words.

“Every move is calculated far beyond what the reports on him have been.” The master mutters, almost as if to himself. “His skills rival the detective. Perhaps not as refined… but significant in fashion and… Just how could he have learned that?”

Rurik blinks and directs his own attention to the screens. One of the attacks that the strange intruder pulls off is eerily familiar, it is a League killing technique, though it has been modified to be less lethal there can be no doubt. This man fights as though he were trained alongside members of the League of Assassin’s.

“Hm…” The master sets his wine glass aside. “What information do we have on this young man?”

That question has only invited more disappointing news. “Not much I fear.”

“Tell me all that you have uncovered.” The master responds, unbothered.

“Unfortunately we have discovered nothing about his origins,” Rurik begins. “All we are certain of is that he began operating as a mercenary in Ethiopia as recently as May of this year.”

Images of the young man they had acquired from around that time appear on one of the screens. His hair had been shorter at the time and his clothing had been somewhat out of place. He had looked better suited to playing video games in a college dorm room than mercenary work, but that had only belied how dangerous he was and is.

On that thought Rurik continues, “It’s there where he accepted a job removing a local criminal from a city. He took this quite literally it seems, as he kidnapped the man took him out into the wilderness with no method of returning to civilization and abandoned him.”

This information earns a raised eyebrow from the master, he seems to be almost amused by it.

“Apparently the man was found before he died, but he had been transported over the border into Somalia. The intruder performed similar jobs as he traveled northeast to Russia, a few of them were assassinations as well. His first encounter with the League was in stealing a kill from one of our top assassins. From there he continued to steal kills or otherwise inhibit our work, until taking out an operative assigned to tail him. After that we were considering killing him in retaliation, but… he struck first with this attack.”

The report appears on cue, but the master seems more interested in the map indicating the intruder’s path from Ethiopia. “By what method did he travel from Ethiopia to Russia?”

“We are uncertain, my lord,” Rurik admits. “Most reports indicate that when he did not travel on foot he relied on hitchhiking or on public transport when he could acquire it.”

Placing a hand to his chin, the master explains, “He travels for nearly five months on a near straight trajectory. His skill in planning may be excellent, but I do believe he failed to account for what this would make evident. It is obvious that he was aiming for that base from the start.”

“M-my lord?” Rurik is dumbfounded by this thought. It is not possible, is it? For a random child who has never been encountered by the League before to not only have wiped out one of their bases but to have known about its location for so long, it is unthinkable. What vendetta could he have against them to warrant such action.

Abruptly the master smiles, an expression that sends a chill down Rurik’s spine. “Find him. With all haste.”

“Yes, my lord.” Rurik answers. “…and when we find him?”

“Bring him to me.” The master closes his eyes and picks up his wine glass once more as he continues, “I would be remiss not to welcome such a promising recruit personally.”

Chapter Text

It’s too early in the morning to be functioning.

Alvin yawns as he takes a sip from his coffee and turns a page in the newspaper he’d gotten that morning. Getting by with no more technology than strictly necessary hasn’t been hard really, but it has been incredibly boring. He frequently finds himself envying his younger self, even the younger self that scrambled over rooftops with nothing but a camera and an old cellphone.

He wonders what Tim Drake is up to right now. In his timeline this would be right around the time that he became Robin. That probably won’t happen now though. Alvin knows he would’ve been content to just take pictures and watch from afar if Jason had never died. Honestly he used to muse every once in a while on what his life would’ve been like if he’d never become Robin, he could never really come up with any kind of happy scenario though. For Tim’s sake he hopes his predictions were wrong. But he can’t do much more than hope at this point. He’s tried to find out what’s going on back in Gotham and find some way to help or stop things from happening. Nothing’s worked thus far, being without a network of willing helpers and without the equipment and time to be sending messages in such a way that his location won’t be evident enough for him to have Bat company he’s kind of at a loss. There’s only one person who might be able to help but Alvin still hasn’t been able to contact him.

He’s been quietly hoping that Klarion wanted to see the results of the chaos he’d wrought badly enough he’d have sent himself back too somehow. That doesn’t seem to be the case… or at least Alvin’s forward motion through time hasn’t brought him to a point that Klarion had managed to reach yet. It’s possible this timeline’s Klarion hasn’t even left his home pocket dimension.

Or Klarion is actually around somewhere close by and is just ignoring him. That’s possible too. Somehow Alvin thinks the little shit wouldn’t be able to help himself though.

Well no use lamenting his own decisions now. Too late for that. He knows Ra’s has assassins on his tail and it’s only a matter of time before they catch up. Alvin hasn’t exactly been trying to outrun them. He’s pretty sure he’s only got another day or so at most.

He stretches and stands, grabbing his burner phone off the table, tucking it and his pen into a back pocket. Dragging the suitcase out from under the bed he opens it just to make sure he has everything. After a moment of silent study he grabs the money out of the suitcase and sticks it in a pocket he’d sewed into the inside of his jacket. Better to have that on him on the likely chance the assassins don’t let him grab his things when they catch up to him. There’s enough there now to buy a plane ticket to the States now if he wanted to, more than enough. But he knows. Not yet. There’s still more to do.

Time to move out.

-

It’s a quiet night. A boring night. Bruce doesn’t really need Jason on monitors, but here he is bored out of his skull. And why is it that he’s been confined to the cave? Bruce’s over-protectiveness of course. Despite the fact that physical therapy has been going great and Jason has the all clear to return to training at the very least, Bruce refuses to let Jason so much as look at the training equipment. At this rate he’s gonna atrophy into a puddle.

Of course, it’s not like Jason’s had much conviction in his arguments. It’s hard to blame Bruce for being overly cautious after what happened to Babs only two months ago. At least she seems to have bounced back okay, despite it all. Jason knows that she had a massive argument with Bruce about it, but to his increasing jealousy, he can’t ground her so she just moved into the old clock tower and set up her hella cool system regardless of what Bruce wanted.

Jason lays his head down on the desk with a groan. Life is a fucking bastard sometimes. On top of everything else, he hasn’t even been able to get anywhere in investigating Alvin’s potential connections to the upper class of Gotham. He’s been looking through the files on the Bat Computer, but some of them don’t really have pictures or much information beyond family history and since he hasn’t been out much of anywhere yet aside from one visit to school to pick up his books so he could study at home. There haven’t been any galas lately either so that’s been a bust. He talked to Bruce about it all too, but Bruce had been less sure of the accent. Jason’s starting to wish he’d gotten Clark’s opinion the last time he’d visited, but hindsight and all that. So everything’s ground to a halt on that front. Annoying as hell.

An abrupt, loud beep makes him jump and he scrambles to figure out what's causing the alarm. It stops almost as suddenly as it started, but Jason checks it out anyhow. At first he thinks he might have leaned on something in his angsting but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Instead it looks like the ‘suspicious activity’ alarm for the Martha Wayne Foundation’s account was triggered. He digs a little deeper, Bruce’s alarm systems don’t go off for no reason. Well, this is weird. “Hey, B?”

“What is it, Robin?”

“It might've just been a false alarm but it looks like somebody might have tried to hack into the Martha Wayne Foundation's account.” Jason tells him. “It's pretty weird though, looks like whoever tried it was being really sloppy, like they were trying to get caught.”

“Hm…” Here it comes. “I'll look into it when I get back.”

Of fucking course he will. Well, Jason's going to look into it now. He makes sure to sigh like he's really irritated about being left out again, but just says, “Sure thing, B.”

When the line disconnects again Jason switches the connection over to the clock tower. Bruce is gonna be double mad that Jason’s gonna get Babs involved in this too, but, hell, what better way to prove to him that neither of them need him to be all angsty about what happened to either of them. “Hey, O, you there?”

“Do you need something, R?”

“Yeah,... Uh, I'm not good with this kind of tech, but would you be able to trace a hacker?”

“Maybe. Why?”

Jason tries to keep himself from smiling devilishly. “I might be going behind B's back to solve a little mystery.”

“Oh yeah?” Oh, she is so in. “What kind of mystery we talking about?”

“It's nothing big.” Jason sends her the little bit of info he's got. “But I figure it's something Bruce won't even notice I'm working on.”

“Smart.” She agrees. “Be careful, though you know how things that seem little can snowball out of control incredibly fast in Gotham.”

“Yeah, I know.” Probably better than most people actually. “Can you tell anything from that stuff I sent you?”

“Fortunately for us, Wayne is pretty meticulous in making sure literally everything ever is recorded, so I’ve got a lot to work with honestly. Let me see.” For a minute she's silent and Jason waits patiently. “This is weird.”

“That's what I said!”

“Well, you were right.” She sounds amused. “What did you find strange?”

“It seemed really sloppy, like the hacker didn't know what they wanted.”

“I'll tell you why that is.” She says. “It's because there were two.”

“Two?”

“That's right, one of them knew exactly what they were after and was trying to be all stealthy.” She explains. “The other seems to have been so sloppy they did something that set off the alarm almost as soon as they got into the system.”

Jason scowls. “… B designed the security for that system himself, just getting in at all’s pretty tough.”

“True… That the one that set off the alarm got through Bruce’s security just to then make an easily avoidable mistake is pretty suspicious.” She's quiet for a second, then, “Huh. And this makes it even more suspicious.”

“What does?”

She seems distracted as she answers, “Well, I was running a program to see if I could narrow down where the hackers were attacking from and the one who knew what they were doing is somewhere on the west side of Gotham, but I'm getting nothing on the other one. Not even a vague area.”

“That is strange.” Jason leans back in B's chair. “Look at that, the mystery's already snowballing. But… I think it's pretty obvious that we've got a couple of genius hackers facing off with the money people donated to charity as the stakes.”

“Looks that way.”

Jason frowns, throwing one leg over the arm of the chair and twisting to look up into the darkness above the Batcomputer. “…So the one who set off the alarm, probably did it on purpose, right?”

“Almost definitely.”

“So then… Why do you think they did that?” Jason switches his attention back to the monitors. “Like were they trying to scare off the other hacker or were they trying to attract attention to get the other hacker caught?”

Babs hums, thoughtfully. “There’s not really a big difference between those two things, I think.”

“There is though.” Jason insists. “If they were just trying to scare off the other hacker then they might just be doing this kind of thing for fun, but if they’re trying to get the other hacker caught then they’re probably actually pissed at this other hacker for whatever reason. Basically, we’re talking what’s really at stake. Is it a boredom thing or is it a vendetta?”

“That’s a nice deduction, Robin.” Babs sounds impressed and Jason does his best not to squirm in joy at the praise. “You’re right, it’s important to know how much this game means to the players involved… What do you think?”

Jason looks over the information he has. “Who hacked into the system first? Wait, first let’s designate them or we’re just gonna get confused. Um, let’s call the one that set off the alarm the Red Flag and the other one let’s call… Thief?”

“Ran out of creativity there, didn’t ya?”

“Cut me some slack, I’m out of practice.” He answers, with a laugh. “So was it Red Flag or Thief that got there first?”

“Thief.” She says. “But it’s only a few seconds of difference.”

Jason nods, absently. “Okay… So our timeline is; Someone – potentially Thief – hacks into a charity to, ostensibly, steal money, a few seconds later Red Flag hops in and immediately triggers the alarm, and finally both of them back out of the system, but not before Red Flag turns the alarm off on their way out… Sounds to me like Red Flag was definitely waiting for Thief. I think Red Flag’s probably out for Thief’s blood.”

“So, what do we do about it?”

Grimacing, Jason says, “I don't think this is over, I don't think this is even the start of things. We need to try to find out where Thief's gonna strike next. Could you send me a list of all the non profits that have reported losing money mysteriously lately?”

“Already locked and loaded.” She’s on the ball as usual.

Jason examines the list she sends him carefully and there’s already a connection. “All of these were created by members of Gotham’s elite. Like none of the outside charities got hit at all it’s just Gotham’s. The Kane family’s veteran charity, the Drakes’ historical foundation, the Rutherfords’… whatever that is, and now the Martha Wayne Foundation? This person’s got it out for the rich and the famous… or rather for their charity projects.”

“Looks that way.”

“Alright I’m gonna see if there’s anything else that links up with these organizations and I’ll get back to you.”

With that they exchange good-byes and Jason’s left in silence. Strangely Jason feels kinda excited. Sure, it’s not the big case with an epic fight that he’d like it to be, but it feels good to be working a case again.

And hell, who knows, like Babs said things have a way of being way bigger than they seem at first in this city.

-

Waking up to the barrel of a gun stuck in his face is not the way Alvin was hoping this day would start. Or any day really, but today of all days? They’re ahead of schedule and that is… not ideal. Alvin stares at the gun for a moment, focusing on suppressing all his irritation. Then he looks up at the person holding it. A lady, around thirty, northern european, probably. “Are you going to remove that gun from my face or am I going to have to remove your arm?”

She doesn’t flinch. “The master requires your presence, intruder. We are ordered to bring you to him. Willingly or not.”

‘We’ is not a good word in this context. How many are ‘we’? Are all of ‘we’ here? Or is there only one assassin here while the others search for him elsewhere? Alvin’s going to have to take a gamble and he doesn’t like his odds. “Or what?”

With a scoff she cocks her gun. “Try me.”

Can’t turn down that invitation. Alvin hits the muzzle of the gun to one side and grabs her wrist, twisting until she drops the gun while swinging out of the rickety old bed legs first. He lands with his knee in the middle of her back and her arm twisted back far enough that her shoulder must be close to dislocating. She struggles a bit and curses him out in Swedish, but he ignores her. “Is this really all you’ve got?”

“It is not.” A much more heavily accented voice responds from behind him. He recognizes it and knows before he even turns around that he’ll see the door guard standing there. She gestures easily with her gun. “We are not so unevenly matched this time, little shadow. Off.”

Alvin stands up slowly, letting the trapped assassin go. This sucks. “So it seems.”

“Now, let us try again.” The woman lowers her gun slowly, the target of her aim coming to rest on Alvin’s knee. “I suggest you come quietly or things may go badly for you.”

Impossible to misinterpret that gesture. “You make a compelling argument.”

The Swedish assassin prods him in the back with her recovered gun and Alvin just grabs his jacket, rolling his eyes as he says over his shoulder. “Patience is a virtue, you know?”

“Just move.” The Swedish assassin growls.

Alvin shrugs on his jacket and follows her orders. Really just the worst day.