Chapter I: Out of the Light and Into the Darkness

Bruce Wayne wasn't very fond of parties like this.

He stood at the bar of the high rise ballroom, sipping on his ginger ale. Bruce's eyes shifted from one side of the room to the other, his green irises checked any cause for suspicion. His trained vision spotted any minor detail or deviation. He could see, across the room about a hundred yards, a woman in a short mustard yellow dress standing next to her husband. Or what Bruce assumed was her husband, since he could see a rather large diamond attached to her left ring finger. She played around with her husband, a middle aged man, overweight. He's sweating Bruce thought He looks like a walking heart attack. The woman held her drink with her fingertips, almost as though it would kill her if she grasped too hard. Bruce could catch every drop of condensation that the glass emitted as the ice cubes melted. The yellow clad brunette had her arm wrapped around her husband almost hesitantly, just like her glass, as if squeezing to hard would make her suffer. She smiled at her husband's friend, another man, a decidedly better looking and younger man at that.

She's cheating on him, that's plain enough Bruce thought to himself. Though probably not with the man she's flirting with. Bruce took a swig from his glass and swallowed down the club soda. Because he's not flirting back, at least not yet. I'm guessing she's coping with her drinking, a hobby so many people in high society partake in. Bruce was getting better and better at reading people like this, of seeing their dark intentions and malicious ideas. It was easier with adulterers and gamblers, it was so much harder with psychopaths and thieves, rapists and murderers. Spotting a killer at this party would be like finding a hay in a needle stack. Businessmen and corporate lawyers, the young Wayne had no doubt in his mind that some of them were murderers in one way or another. This was a party filled with the criminals no one would expect, and they were all here to celebrate him.

He was absorbed in observation, so absorbed he jumped at the hand on his shoulder. Bruce turned fast, almost losing grip on his soda. "Mr. Richards." Bruce set his glass on the bar and reached his hand out. "Nice to see you" he said

"Bruce" he took the young man's hand and shook it. "Hell of a party huh?"

"I want to thank you for throwing it for me." Bruce said and grabbed his glass again, swallowing down the urge to walk away from Lester Richards along with the rest of his soda.

Richards was the temporary CEO and board chairman of Wayne Enterprises and had been since Bruce was eight years old. Lester was tall and muscular, with a full head of white hair. Close to sixty five, Richards had been the closest thing to a figurehead the company had. His strong business practice and demeanor was what kept the namesake of Bruce's ancestors afloat in a sea of opponents. His suit must have cost thousands, Bruce could pick every fiber apart with detail, every strand of black wool. The red tie he wore accentuated the black with a tenacity that was likened to blood, the blood stained reputation of the CEO.

Richards swirled his glass of champagne and said "Not every day a young man turns twenty one" he placed his hand on Bruce's shoulder again. "I'd buy you a drink, but technically you're not legal until midnight."

Bruce laughed at the joke he didn't find that funny, he found himself doing that more and more often these days. "There's plenty of drinks ready to be drunk in the future." Bruce laughed again Good job Bruce, play it up, keep it up, keep the bastard laughing.

"So" Richards changed subjects "Have you thought about what we talked about?"

"Yeah" Bruce said "I've given it some thought"

"So you realize that you should sign those papers" Richards concealed a smirk.

Get out Bruce's mind and instincts told him, clear the area. "Lester, I think we can leave business to the daytime" Bruce turned his head to admire a passing girl, something he hoped Richards caught. "While there is so much else to do at night"

Richards did catch it, for all his college degrees in business he couldn't see Bruce's misdirection. "Oh the young Mr. Wayne" The old man laughed with indiscretion. "I see a sly dog like myself in the future. You fell for it, I'll deal with you in the morning. Bruce couldn't help but smirk himself as Richards left to harass another guest. I'm nothing like you Lester. Far from it.

Back to business, Bruce set himself back to examining the party guests, trying to read them as best he could. Another cheater he spotted a man in the left corner of the room. A gambler, he looked to the dance floor. Compulsive liar, Bruce leaned against the bar again, taking in more of the scene. I can see you, you can't hide from me.

"Bruce!" A blond man, of the same height of Bruce, was almost running towards him. His hair was like clustered gold, a fierce dirty blond that could be mistaken for the locks of a movie star. His blue eyes were crystal clear, as if they were two pools of water. He walked with an air about him, but out of place. A public sector man at a private sector party. Harvey Dent punched Bruce in the shoulder and laughed "Give your best friend a hug" Bruce wrapped his arms around Harvey's shoulders and squeezed hard.

"Hey Harvey" Wayne said affectionately as Dent laughed. "How are you?"

"How am I?" Harvey laughed "Forget how I am man, what about you?"

"A little constipated to tell you the truth" Bruce was forced to fake a laugh again, this time at his own joke.

"Are you kidding me?" Harvey smacked his forehead. "You're a billionaire surrounded by beautiful women and the best you have to offer is your bowel movements?"

"Quiet yourself Dent" Bruce laughed, this time a real one.

"You need to lighten up and actually have some fun." Harvey leaned next to him on the bar as he wrapped one of his burly arms around Bruce's shoulders. Harvey had played football at Gotham University, and later rowed crew at Harvard on the law team.

"I actually for once have more important things to deal with."

"What could be more important than finding your potential soul mate?"

"Business" Bruce said.

"You are such a downer" Harvey stated glumly.

"I need your help Harvey" Bruce smiled. "Richards just gave me documents to sign off ownership and CEO status of Wayne Enterprises to him."

"Bruce" Harvey almost whined "Wayne Enterprises has almost a hundred established, experienced corporate lawyers and you want a guy that graduated law school just a year ago?"

Bruce gave his empty glass to the bartender and turned back to Harvey "The difference is, I don't know any of Wayne Enterprises hundreds of brilliant lawyers." Bruce said as he crossed his arms, aiming a steely gaze to his steadfast friend. "Richards has been in control for almost 13 years. I doubt that cut throat is going to give up that seat without a fight." Bruce eyed the sleazy businessman from across the ballroom, talking up some poor girl in a powder blue dress.

"I studied criminal law Bruce, not corporate."

"I need a lawyer I can depend on" Bruce said, stabbing Harvey in the chest with his finger. I certainly can't depend on any of Lester Richards.

"I passed the bar six months ago…"

"Shut up" Bruce laughed "And come by the house tomorrow night, we'll have dinner."

And with that, Harvey walked away after wishing Bruce a happy birthday. "Thank you Harvey," Bruce almost yelled back at the young attorney. His false smile faded away as Harvey left, and Bruce was left alone to grimace at the crowd assembled around him. As he heard a few clinking of a spoon hitting against a glass, Bruce decided to get out while he could.

"Alfred?" He pulled out his cellphone and called his most trusted friend. Alfred Pennyworth was Bruce's closest confidant and, before he had turned eighteen, his legal guardian. Alfred had spent a considerable amount of time convincing Bruce that his ideas of moving forward were folly, but had yet to deter him.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred's starkly British voice responded through the device.

"I'm done here" Bruce said with voice filled with disdain and disgust. Somehow even more determined now in his quest, despite Alfred's protective nature.

He had the money for it now, of course, his real inheritance (about $7.6 billion) wouldn't kick in until midnight, about a half hour from now, the same time that the controlling shares of Wayne Enterprises were transferred over to his stock portfolio. He didn't exactly know what he was going to do when he got to the CEO's chair. The arrangement now was that Richards would remain there, while Bruce took up a lucrative seat on the Wayne Enterprises Board of Directors. A year later, after a long time of tutelage from several key individuals, he'd take over. But they'd put in a grace period. He could wait longer if he felt the need. Perhaps they wanted him to take his time and leave for Harvard or Yale to get his MBA. Maybe they wanted to wear him down so that they could bury him before he ever got to that chair. Thomas Wayne was good at a great many things, and he set up his will with all the good intentions, but it might be that those protections put in place would choke him. It didn't matter, he wouldn't let them. Wayne Enterprises wasn't going to the corrupt and greedy. Not now, not ever.

"I'll be waiting in the car sir." Alfred told him as he hung up, breaking him out of his thought. Bruce quickly thanked him before striding toward the elevator, noticing a short redhead walking past him. Her crystal green eyes matched perfectly with the emerald dress she was wearing. Their eyes locked almost instantly, the pretty girl and the billionaire to be. Everyone was watching him leave. Everyone knew what they expected, and unfortunately, he had to give it to them.

"I'm about to leave" Bruce said to the girl as he passed her. "Need a ride?"

She smiled at him, exposing a set of pearly white teeth. "Absolutely."

When Amanda Stockton woke up in the bed in the morning, she felt as if she could hardly make a move without feeling as if she was stepping on a million dollars. Bruce Wayne's bedroom. She found his shirt from the night before. It had been haphazardly tossed to the side when they entered the room just seven or eight hours ago. She picked up the beautiful Egyptian cotton garment and slipped her arms through the sleeves. It felt like rich velvet to her warm and delicate bare skin. The bed was a mess. Amanda and Bruce had quite the time. The young twenty year old giggled at the thought as she looked around the room.

Pretty underdone for a billionaire, she had to say. It seemed as if only the most essential material items were in here. From what she'd seen of the rest of the house, it was like Bruce's bedroom was a completely different building. The walls were almost barren. Just an old red wallpaper with small swirling flower patterns that was probably older than her father and more expensive than a mid-sized sedan. The table next to the bed had a small lamp and two photos on it. It didn't take a natural Gothamite like Amanda two seconds longer than the first glance to recognize Thomas and Martha Wayne. She couldn't imagine it. The suffering, the loss. Behind every great man is a great tragedy she supposed.

Wrapped up deep in all of this thought, she'd barely noticed the television that was on in the corner. A tiny little screen of a television. The volume barely above audible. She listened to the newscasters speak as she walked just ever so closer to their projected images.

"And in financial news today, a new day rises over Wayne Enterprises as Gotham's prodigal son, Bruce Wayne celebrates his 21st birthday." The female newscaster in the red pantsuit said as a candid photo of Bruce shaking hands with someone appeared on the screen. "The young Mr. Wayne today inherits the controlling shares of the multibillion dollar empire that has been in his family, almost as long as there has been a Gotham City."

"Yes" Her male colleague followed as he turned to the camera. "The Wayne family legacy now invested solely in one young man after the sad deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne, tragically gunned down thirteen years ago next month. All those years ago, and mourning city showed up to support its most prominent family's sole survivor, and will do so again, as it always has, next month at the annual vigil held in Thomas and Martha Wayne's honor. The city will be there again, but for now, Gotham, and all of us at GNN, say happy birthday to you, Mr. Wayne."

Amanda smiled slightly at the sight. It must be nice to get birthday wishes on national television. Though I suppose that just came with the territory. The room was starting to get a bit stuffy, and she was eager to see the place. Every Gothamite's dream was to take the tour of one of the most famous houses on the East Coast.

After slipping her panties back on, Amanda took hold of the massive brass doorknobs of the double doors in front of her. As soon as she opened up the door, she encountered a surprise she was not expected.

An older man, likely in his mid to late fifties, wearing the most impeccable tuxedo. His skin was pale and a bit wrinkled, with a furrowed brow to match. A light mustache that was so delicately and impeccably trimmed that one could say that it barely existed at all. His light blue eyes betraying that professional demeanor and outfit, and revealed more of what Amanda thought was a grandfather, or an uncle maybe. In his hands was the most elegant and shiny silver tray that she'd ever seen in her life. The tray was adorned with a delicate assortment of eggs benedict, toast, coffee, and a small white rose in a tiny glass of water.

"Oh…" Amanda jumped a bit in surprise, but the immaculately dressed man barely moved a muscle. She suddenly realized just how close to naked she was at the moment. "I'm sorry for the… the door there."

The older man simply smiled a bit. "Don't worry about it at all, miss." He said softly, his thick British accent reverberated around the small bedroom as the butler walked forward into the room and set the tray down onto the table by the bed. "It certainly wouldn't be the first fright I experienced in this house, and I'm most certain that it won't be the last." The coffee steamed up slightly as the liquid sloshed in the heavy mug.

Amanda eyed him slightly, he was a charming man, that much was certain. She'd always expected the great Alfred Pennyworth to be a bit more reserved and quiet. "I never would have taken Bruce as someone who liked eggs benedict."

Alfred turned away from the bed and the tray, facing the small half naked redhead. He sighed ever so slightly and interlocked his hands behind his back in a dignified stance. "The meal is not for Master Wayne, he had to attend to a meeting in the city." Alfred watched what seemed like an expected disappointment run across the young girls face. "You do know how these billionaires like to keep their schedules clean and tidy." He smiled ever so slightly.

A mixture of confusion and eventual understanding ran across Amanda Stockton's face. "Right." She nodded to Alfred as she looked over at the tray. "Well I'm not much of a breakfast eater."

Alfred nodded back, a small burst of sadness running through his heart as he watched the young girl collect her things. She was quite the beauty. He felt almost obliged to slap his young employer upside the head himself for constantly and consistently throwing away a chance at a relationship. It truly was sad. Once Amanda resurfaced from the bathroom after getting redressed in her cocktail dress from the night before.

Alfred stepped forward and smiled again. "Please do allow me to give you a lift back home."

"If it's all the same to you Alfred," Amanda said with a sad and only slightly snide tone. "I'd really rather take a cab."

Alfred waited for the next twenty minutes as a cab from the city came rolling up the drive, picking up the young girl and whisking her back off. She and young Master Bruce might just cross paths again at another social event. But by then it would be much too late. Alfred stepped away from the window as the taxi escaped from view and hid itself in the lengthy stretches of forest outside of the Wayne property. With a distinguished sigh, Alfred walked back over to the bedroom and retrieved the tray. Walking from the bedroom, which was situated in the west wing of the manor, and down what would seem to newcomers to be an endless corridor, eventually making it to the grand entrance hall. Alfred passed the rich velvet tapestries hanging up on the walls and onto the rug covered marble steps, skillfully walking down the stairs and towards the library. After passing through the entrance, he found himself being devoured by the giant bookshelves that adorned the walls of the library. He took himself up a spiral staircase, tray still expertly balanced in his hand, and onto the balcony, where his employer sat.

"Apparently, the eggs benedict did not go over very well with your newest lady friend." Alfred noted as he set the tray on top of a pile of books.

Bruce frowned a bit as he grabbed the mug of black coffee off of the tray and brought it to his lips. Surprisingly still hot. "It's the hollandaise." He said as he swallowed down a gulp of the piping hot liquid. "Too much butter for some people."

"I take it, some people, now includes yourself, Master Wayne?"

"I can't afford to be getting fat Alfred." The young man said as he thumbed through the large leather-bound book. "Even if I can actually afford it now."

"You know," Alfred started. "If you ever actually spoke to one of these women you bring home with you, you might actually have more use for them besides maintaining your image to the paparazzi."

"Believe me Alfred," Bruce said as he leafed through the book in his hands. "The last thing I want people to think is that I'm interested in anything besides parties and girls. Trust me, you'll understand eventually."

Alfred let out a slight groan before he took a peek at the book in his young companion's hands. "The Most Well Kept Secrets of the Wayne's: Gotham's Most Famous Family" Alfred noted the title as Bruce rummaged through the pages. "If you're interested in creating a family tree to show your lady friends, there is an excellent copy in the study" Alfred smirked slightly as Bruce looked up from the book.

Bruce chuckled a bit. "It's not so much my ancestors that concern me. It's their house." He said as he turned to a bookmarked page. Sitting in the center, in between several scrawled lines of text, was a depiction of a large cavern. "1813, the first reference to an underground cave system sitting underneath Wayne Manor." Bruce said as he pointed to the drawing. "Francis Wayne used it to store several historical pieces from the revolutionary period when the War of 1812 broke out…"

"Worried about burglars, Master Bruce?" Alfred smirked as he sat down in the chair next to Bruce, a little more intrigued. "I hope you don't intend for me to lug all of your valuables into some cistern?"

Bruce looked up. "No, not what I was thinking." He flipped through another set of pages. "1858, the abolitionist Solomon Wayne smuggles runaway slaves from the Antebellum South through a series of caves on their way to Massachusetts and New Hampshire." The young billionaire pointed again to another set of drawings, flowing depictions of stalagmites and stalactites. He closed the book and sat back in his chair, grabbing the mug of coffee and rubbing his temple with the other hand. "I remember my father telling me that during the Cuban Missile Crisis, my grandfather was preparing to put the family and all of their staff into some kind of panic room. In case nuclear war actually broke out. " Bruce studied the cover of the book intently before turning back to Alfred. "But there is no panic room on any of the Manor's blueprints…" he turned his gaze over to the large amount of folder over architectural papers next to the book.

Alfred slid the book over to his side of the table and opened it up. "So… you believe that the panic room… was a panic cave?"

"Exactly." Bruce said as he stood up, taking the mug of coffee with him as he walked down the stairs into the lower floor of the library. Alfred followed him down the steps and further into the entrance hall. Bruce walked across the marble floor leading to the main entrance. His sneakers squeaked and slid across the glossy floor as they reached the giant oaken double doors. Bruce pushed the doors open and exposed the sunlight of the late fall into the manor. The great expanse of the Wayne estate was now exposed to them. A brisk chill ran through the air, and even Alfred in his thick woolen tuxedo jacket felt himself shiver.

"Shouldn't you grab a coat first, Master Wayne?" The older man said, looking down at the gray sweatpants and thin Henley shirt failing to protect Bruce from the elements.

"I'll be fine." Bruce said as he strolled down the drive. "Do you remember when I was seven, the year before mom and dad…?"

Alfred gave a curt nod. "You fell in the well." The butler said, finally knowing where they were walking to. "Your father had to climb down and pull you out."

"Yeah." Bruce said a few minutes later as they reached the south east side of the grounds, the side that was most in need of a trim. They had never cleaned out the forest that encroached so closely on the house. His mother had always liked having a bit of mystery near the place, she said it kept her from getting bored when she looked out a window. Just a small way into those woods, was the well.

"As I recall, your father boarded it up himself after he fetched you from the bottom." Alfred noted as they started to approach it. "What did… what did you do?"

All of the boards covering up the well were now on the ground, some neatly stacked next to the stones covering the hole in the ground, and some haphazardly tossed away. "I tore them out." Bruce said as he looked down into the well. "If we're going to find those caves, this is the only place to start."

"First of all, Master Bruce," Alfred started. "I hope to don't mean to send me down there." Alfred chuckled a bit as he looked down with his young employer.

Bruce nodded as he leaned down and opened up a small steel box next to a pile of the torn off boards. He retrieved a long length of high tensile paracord and a climbing harness. He slipped the straps and hooks of the harness on and tightened them up to his body. He walked over to the nearest and thickest tree he could find and clamped the cord around the oak. Bruce strolled back over to the well and neatly knotted the paracord to the harness before stepping up onto the stones of the well, effectively creating a pulley system for him to go down. He reached down into the steel box and retrieved a small messenger bag, which he strapped around his chest.

"Second of all…" Alfred continued as he watched Bruce scamper around the well. "That well is just a well, you've seen it yourself!" He shouted worriedly as Bruce started to step backwards, slowly rappelling himself down into the darkness. "If there is some kind of cave system down there, it's hidden behind a wall of solid granite!"

Bruce looked up at him and grinned slightly as he took his free hand and tapped on the messenger bag. "That's what the dynamite is for!" He said as he allowed the rope to run free for a bit, allowing him a swift drop into the dark.

"Dynamite?!" Alfred shouted as Bruce disappeared. "Where did you get bloody dynamite from?!"

Alfred waited for the inevitable explosion, but it didn't come. The butler looked down into the deep darkness that his young employer and friend had just plunged headfirst into. "Master Wayne?!" he called out with a deep and intent worry in his voice. No response came, just the lingering silence of the wind blowing leaves off of the tall oak trees around him. "Bruce?!" Alfred called out again, a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead.

"I'm okay!"

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the young man's voice reverberate up through the cavern below. "You gave me a good fright, that's for certain!"

"I was joking about the dynamite!"

"Thank goodness!" Alfred laughed to himself. The only thing worse than Bruce suffering from a broken neck on the descent would be him splattering himself along the rocks walls.

"We might still need some though!" Bruce called back out from underground.

Alfred once again felt the inclination to slap himself in the forehead, but maintained his composure.

Bruce surveyed the large expanse of the well. Most of the water was gone, in fact it only came up to his ankles. That was good enough. He steadied the flashlight he'd retrieved from the bag and continued to explore the dark cavern. The twenty one year old moved carefully, not wanting to dislodge any large pieces of rock while he was down here. The last thing he needed was a cave in. Actually, the last thing he needed were more of those… things. It was a nest for those creatures after all, and he hadn't exactly quelled his fear of the flying mammals just yet.

As he came to the wall of the cave, what he assumed to be in the direction of the Manor, he started to feel something. Something pressing against his face. It felt like… wind. There was a draft down here. Bruce shined his light further, and found himself looking at a crack in the wall. It was just big enough for a fully grown man to squeeze himself through. He needed to be careful here. With no way of knowing what was on the other side, Bruce said a small silent prayer and got onto his stomach.

"Are you alright down there, Master Wayne!" Alfred yelled back out down the well as Bruce lowered himself to the floor, soaking his clothing in the murky waters.

"I'm fine!" Bruce yelled back as he started to crawl headfirst through the tiny crack in the rock face. "But there's more to this well than we thought. Just stay there, I'll be back!"

"Master Bruce!" Alfred shouted in protest as his employer squeezed through the rocks.

As he shifted along through the small crawlspace, Bruce started to turn back to yell something back to his faithful butler. He placed his hand against the top of the rock, and felt something move. A large rock tumbled as he pressed his hand against it. It shifted and fell right from the spot it had been. "Oh god…" Bruce whispered out as he heard the rocks above start to rumble. Without enough time to turn back, he shifted all of his weight onto his side, and started to roll as fast as he could. Two swift movements were all that separated Bruce Wayne from becoming a crushed mess of blood and meat. He fell forward, hoping that he wouldn't be impaled on a collection of stalagmites on the way down. Thankfully, the solid rock he landed on wasn't sharp.

Bruce was certain that Alfred was yelling for him, his shouts likely laced with obscenities after the collapse of the rocks. If he was yelling, Bruce couldn't hear him. "Well." He said as he snatched his flashlight up from the ground where he dropped it. "I'm not going back that way." He placed a hand on the rocks that had facilitated his entry, which were now his own personalized jail cell. "Better hope that the history books were right."

Bruce turned, doing a complete 180 degree turn, and found himself facing a massive expanse of cave. The natural formations of stone had taken shape over so many years, being churned away by a massive waterfall sitting in the far end of the cavern. "Woah." Bruce breathed out as he started to walk, undeterred by the latest setback and ventured further into the cave.

Alfred Pennyworth couldn't believe his eyes. Or ears, as the case may have been. He felt himself yelling so loudly his throat was running rash. Did he just lose another Wayne? This was inconceivable. It wasn't right, not at all in the slightest. He should have never trusted Bruce to go down into that well, at least not by himself.

Call someone, that's what he needed to do. The police, fire department, an EMT. Anyone who could get Bruce out of there. That is, if he was still alive. Alfred felt a shocking lump in his throat take hold as he screamed down into the well, receiving nothing back but the cold and dreadful echo of his own voice. It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair. The last of the Wayne family, killed in some kind of… cave diving accident? Alfred, the ever dutiful butler, sat at the foot of the well for well over twenty minutes, before he took actions into his own hands. If anyone was to get his boy out of there, it would be him. Even approaching sixty, Alfred grabbed onto the ropes and cords that Bruce had left and deftly started to pull them up, determined to strap himself into that harness and pull Bruce out of there.

"Alfred!"

It was like God's own voice had spoken to him. "Dear lord!" Alfred turned around to see Bruce standing behind him. He quickly dropped the harness and the cords at his feet, and rushed up to him. He was filthy and wet, covered in soot and dirty water. "Don't you ever scare me like that again!" Alfred sighed a deep breath of relief.

In all of his panic, he'd forgotten to ask the most important question, which he quickly remembered soon after the shock wore off. "But, the well caved in, how did you?"

"Come on." Bruce said as he beckoned back towards the house. "I'll show you."

The Master's Study, where they'd both spent so many hours, held the answer that Bruce had labored over for so long. To Alfred's astonishment, the large grandfather clock that had been in the room for countless generations had been swung aside, revealing a large entrance to…something, behind it.

"It appears that…" Alfred started as he examined the clock "Solomon Wayne had more secrets than we had believed." At the very back of the clock, where there should have been just a back panel, was an intricate looking, though obviously dated, locking mechanism. No wonder the clock had gone unmoved for so long. It had been stacked up in between two giant bookcases. They'd never really had a reason to move it really, it almost 'made' the room in the spot where it was.

"But there's more." Bruce said as he stepped forward into the darkness, with Alfred eagerly following him this time. "The world's first safety elevator had its debut in New York in 1857" Bruce said, always willing to show off his veritable knowledge. "And it seems like good ole' Solomon wanted to be considered part of the 'in' crowd." Bruce smirked a bit as he pointed his flashlight to a large steel cage, which could barely be called an elevator, over at the end of the short passage.

"And I suppose you want me to ride on that… death contraption with you." Alfred looked at Bruce with an apprehension that would slay any other.

"Oh come on, Alfred, I rode it on the way up." Bruce said "Thank god it was down when I stumbled on the place, otherwise I would have never gotten back up." He said as he stepped over to the elevator and opened up the gated door. "It's safe… mostly." He nodded as the cage swung to and fro a bit as he shifted his weight. "If not, I can always get you a fireman's pole and you can slide down."

Alfred grimaced as he walked onto the elevator with Bruce. "Fireman's pole…" he shook his head as he stepped onto the elevator. "Barely even an elevator shaft."

Bruce looked away slightly as he pulled onto the lever next to him. After the long clanking sound of a few churning gears locking into place, the small cage started a descent down into the darkness. All they heard was the rumble and clanking of the chains above them as they lowered further and further down into the newly rediscovered cave system underneath Wayne Manor.

"Oh my God…" Alfred said with a fright as the walls next to him disappeared. Instead of following a shaft all the way down, the elevator was exposed to the air on all sides. "Wait…" Alfred said with a startled yelp as he looked up towards the ceiling. "Are we just hanging here?!" he pointed up towards the four thick iron chains, the only things keeping them suspended away from a bloody death on the floor below. "You said this was a safety elevator." He turned to Bruce, and although angry, he couldn't help but smile along with his young friend.

"I know, but still, it works pretty well after all these decades." Bruce smirked as they found themselves at the ground again. Bruce pushed the lever forward to what could be called a 'neutral position' and he and Alfred stepped forward out of the elevator.

Despite all of Alfred's reservations, he hadn't seen Bruce this happy in… well, years. It was certainly an improvement to the gloominess and depression that had plagued the young man for such a long time. And after all, it was his birthday. Still, Alfred knew that even when Bruce seemed to be in a good mood, he was using humor to deflect the anger inside. Once they stepped forward, it was obvious to Alfred that these caves had been altered by some type of stonemason before. There were obvious pathways and precipices designed to allow movement throughout the underground.

"Just be careful where you step." Bruce said as they moved forward into the darkness, with only Bruce's flashlight to illuminate the way. "There's more than just rushing water down here." Bruce kept trugging along as Alfred kept up with a quick pace. "This is as far as I went." Bruce said as they entered what appeared to be a 'central chamber'. A large area of rock away from any dangerous edges. It was big enough to drive a car through. Half of the area was situated against a large wall of rock, and the rest was all easy to fall from. Along the wall itself, was a huge table, obviously very old, and what appeared to be a person sitting at it in a large wooden armchair.

"You remember the story of Solomon Wayne, how he went mad after his only son was killed at Gettysburg?" Bruce looked to Alfred with an ominous gaze in his eye.

"He left in the middle of the night, never to be heard from again." Alfred whispered out as they approached the table.

Bruce shook his head as they rounded the edge of the table. "Solomon never left." He said as he shined his light on the figure in the chair. A pale white skeleton, wearing a three piece suit and clutching onto a large rolled up piece of paper.

"Oh my…" Alfred said as his eyes locked onto the remains of Bruce's ancestor.

Bruce stepped forward, placing his flashlight in between his teeth as he grabbed onto the piece of paper. Come on… he thought to himself as he started to pull a bit. This is going to be gross. He grabbed onto Solomon's fingers and slowly pried them off of the paper, being careful not to snap one of the bones by mistake. Once he was sure that it was safe, he left the arm slowly fall down to his side and unrolled the paper, squinting as he made out his ancestor's scrawling cursive and read aloud to Alfred.

If you are reading this, dear Charlotte, I fear that the worst has come to me. I was born in this house, I will die in this house. But the thought that dear Samuel's remains will not be returned to us brings a steely chill to my heart. I cannot bear the thought that you would see me succumb to madness, but there must always be a Wayne in Wayne Manor. Always. They would have put me in the ground eventually regardless. This way, I get to be just a hair closer to home. With the most deep and sincere love, your father, Solomon Wayne.

"Such a sad end." Alfred said as he looked over the skeleton and sat down at the chair furthest away from the collection of bones. "I don't understand, Master Bruce. Why? Why is it you were so fixated on finding this place? It isn't like you knew that your great great great grandfather's remains were down here."

"Because this is the place Alfred." Bruce said as he set the paper down on the table in front of the skeleton of Solomon Wayne. "This is where we'll fight from." He said as he turned from the table and started to walk over to the edges of the cave, towards the rushing waterfall in the corner. He stood over the precipice of the great and terrible fall, but he did so unafraid. "This is a huge cave, there's got to be more than one entrance." Bruce started again. "We'll haul down equipment and resources, taking away all attention from the manor as we stage our fight from down here."

"Master Bruce, I don't understand…"

"Neither do I, Alfred." Bruce looked down into the darkness. "At least, not yet, not completely. But when I do, I have to be ready."

Alfred stood up from the chair and looked at him, a little surprised and stunned at the way Bruce's tone had changed so suddenly. He watched as Bruce lingered a bit closer towards the edge, intently focusing on a figure sitting in the shadow of the cave's rocks beyond. They heard a sound, a faint swoosh of air, so tiny and miniscule that it could barely be noticed to begin with.

The sound got a little closer, magnifying itself tenfold as a loud and oppressive screech filled cave, Alfred covered his ears, but Bruce stood there, stoic and unafraid. He took a deep and resentful breath as he looked out at the small figure approaching them. The soft and skeletal wings of the flying mammal as it glided through the air. It was watching them, studying them. It was a frightful and exotic display as the animal zoomed out of sight as quickly as it had come in.

"Bats certainly are strange creatures." Alfred said with a huff as they headed back towards the elevator.