Alfred pennyworth

Even in a Manor full of seasoned vigilante's, Alfred is always the first to notice the threat.

It's like the air changes, or iron intuition prods at him until he has the shotgun in his hand and he's scouting the Manor for the intruder. Intruders weren't anything new, but one that had managed to bypass all of the expensive security measures that prevented people from so much as climbing over the gate was a cause for concern. His finger lays beside the trigger, notified of your precise location by the sound of something smashing.

An expensive vase, no doubt. Nothing Bruce couldn't live without. It irks him that you were able to sneak past security undetected, but it was a simple, stationary vase that had sold you out. He purposely cocks the gun the moment he sees you, shadowed in the darkness along the corridor. He notes down what he can see in his mind, brows furrowed and expression unwavering. He wasn't the butler of this Manor for no reason, after all.

"I suggest you keep yourself still and turn around before I have to use this," the old man sniffs, jutting up his chin when you freeze. He's quite certain it was more of a flinch, and his curiosity is piqued. "State your name and why you're here. Quickly, now. I'm old, and my finger has a bit of twitch."