It was a beautiful autumn afternoon in Gotham City, but a somber feeling filled the air with discontent. Gothamites were still dealing with the tragedy that had befallen them only a short time ago on their own streets. The time without the Batman had taken a serious toll on the inhabitants of Gotham City as crime slowly began to return to normal and then triple its activity virtually overnight. At first, it seemed like Superman's speech at the Batman's funeral had struck a chord with the once crime soaked town and that perhaps the denizens of Gotham were going to change their crooked ways and save their city. But they could only stay perfect for so long, and soon the grip of crime tightened once more. It appeared that Gotham City was worse now than it had ever been before, and this time there was no Dark Knight to save the people.
A lone motorcycle rode up to the gate's of palatial Wayne Manor and flew up the driveway. The rider, obviously no novice, knew the path around the courtyard obviously well as he rounded the steep turns at dangerously high speeds. His unique red motorcycle shined brightly when the light hit it. The cyclist finally came to a halt beneath a great oak tree near the garage and front door to the mansion. The leaves in the tree, a mix of yellow and red, reminded the rider of the first time he had approached Wayne Manor some ten years before and the tree had looked just like this. While reminiscing he ran his fingers over the emblem on his leather jacket; a yellow letter R embroidered on a green background. It saddened him when he remembered that he had not ridden this particular motorcycle or worn this leather jacket since the day he left in such a hurry some seven years ago.
Dick Grayson pushed his motorcycle into the garage of his new home and left his helmet sitting on the ground beside it. He shut the garage door and went back the way he came to enter Wayne Manor from the front door. After a month of litigation and another month tying up loose ends in BlÜdaven, Dick Grayson finally moved back to Gotham City and into the mansion that had been left to him by his close friend and mentor. Part of him believed that, perhaps, Wayne Manor should have gone to Bruce's illegitimate daughter Helena, also known as the Huntress, but she turned down living in the home to pursue her life elsewhere. Bruce had told Dick years ago that he would leave him everything in case something happened to him, because he was like a brother and a son. It had been especially hard for Dick to deal with his friend's death and that was quite possibly another reason that he had taken so long to come back to Gotham City.
The first step across the threshold was the hardest step that Dick had ever made in his life. He felt so alone now that Bruce Wayne was gone, and he couldn't shake the memories away. He remembered when he first walked into this home and mocked Bruce and his extravagant lifestyle. For a moment, he paused to wonder how different his life would be today if he had left Wayne Manor when he originally intended. He would probably be dead in a gutter somewhere, or rotting in prison. Bruce Wayne had given him a home, and inadvertently a purpose, and for that Dick would be eternally grateful.
For the first time in his life, Dick marveled at the magnificent grand staircase in the front room of his new mansion. The floors were white marble, with black weaving in and out like shadows. The railing was mahogany and two sets of stairs on either side of the hall met on the top floor. He chuckled to himself as he remembered the etiquette lesson he had received from Alfred on his first night in the house; the right side for going upstairs, and the left is for going downstairs. He had never listened to Alfred, often taking the left path upstairs and sliding down the railing to get down. This was just one of the irreplaceable memories held within this time capsule of a home. Underneath the stairs was a grand piano, where Alfred used to sit in the afternoon and play an entrancing melody for the world.
To the left of the staircase one would find Alfred's room and the garage. Bruce, Alfred and Dick had spent many an evening tinkering with the cars and motorcycles inside the garage, each man trying to prove his mechanical superiority. The last time Dick had seen this house, was when Alfred had fallen ill three years ago. He took time away from his career as Nightwing to spend a few days with his surrogate father before Macgregor's Syndrome claimed his life. Bruce never seemed to be quite the same after Alfred's passing, and he replaced Alfred's company with a dog he named Ace. Bruce became more reclusive than normal after Alfred's death and that was the last time he spoke to Dick or any other former partners for that matter. Dick found himself wishing that he had moved back to Gotham City then and tried to help his friend cope with his grief. Perhaps he wouldn't be dead if Dick had been here to help him as he had done in the past.
Dick shrugged off the past and continued through the house, passing the staircase and heading to the right, Dick passed down a long hallway that he had always referred to as the trophy hall. On either side of the hallway were statues and suits of armor that Bruce had gathered during his trips around the world. He had suits of armor from feudal Japan and ancient Chinese weaponry that had been crafted centuries ago. Dick remembered a time when he accidentally knocked over one of the suits of medieval armor and Bruce boasted about having to spend nearly a thousand dollars to get the metal fixed correctly. Dick had believed he was joking until Bruce hired an antique metallurgist to fix the armor who charged nearly a thousand dollars an hour for his services. From that moment on, Dick was careful to never break another priceless antique in his mentor's home.
Past the trophy hall was the expansive library comparable to the Gotham City Public Library in size and content. Along the walls above the books were more artifacts that Bruce Wayne had collected, these ones coming from Africa and Australia. Dick made his way to the far eastern corner of the library to an insignificant wall of books. On this bookshelf, Dick searched for a copy of the opera Mephistopheles on the shelf and slightly pulled the antique from the shelf. With the dull sound of machinery at work, the wall slid forward in front of the others and then slid out to the left. Behind the wall of books of books was an old metal elevator that led to a series of caves beneath the house. Dick climbed into the elevator, pulled the lever to activate the elevator and the wall of books slid back into place quietly.
As the elevator descended the caves, Dick thought back to the irony that Bruce had taught him about this particular entrance to the Batcave. He said that long ago these tunnels had been used to transport slaves during the days of the Underground Railroad and the book was then merely a coincidence. The irony came years later when his parents died, taking Bruce to see the opera Mephistopheles. Bruce said that before he even knew the truth about the caves, he felt compelled to pull back that book and his destiny became obvious.
The elevator came to a screeching halt on a thick stone pathway and Dick began his trek downward into the abyss. He could still hear the crashing waves of the Gotham River that ran beneath the cave system he stood in now. When he first found the Batcave, Dick was almost sure that he was going to trip and fall to his death in the shallow water. The single stone pathway met a large platform in the center of the caves that extended out naturally in eight different directions. To his left was the world renowned Bat Computer that Bruce had forged with his own bare using knowledge he learned on his travels and equipment from Wayne International. Dick could still remember what every button did and what every switch was used for.
Suddenly Dick heard scraping footsteps rapidly approaching him from his left and he quickly ducked into a defensive position. A shadow darted across the wall and Dick found himself struggling to keep his cool. What kind of person or creature would attack him in the Batcave so soon after Batman's death? But then again, perhaps in his absence some criminal or mutant had taken up residence in the caves beneath Wayne Manor and had claimed them for his own. Dick readied himself for anything as the ominous sound drew closer and closer.
In a flash, before Dick could react, a heavy weight came crashing down on his chest and sent him flying to the ground. His breath came in gasps as the mystery creature clawed his chest lightly again and again. A wet tongue ran over Dick's face and the smell was nearly enough to gag the poor young man as he fought to gain control of the situation. He pushed the creature off of his chest and leapt to his feet, wiping the saliva from his face with his coat sleeve. When he opened his eyes he half expected to see the Killer Croc or some other malevolent being attacking him. Instead he found himself face to face with an old decrepit quadruped that was half-blind and wobbled even when it stood still.
"Ace!" Dick shouted, kneeling down to give the dog from his past a big hug. He let the dog lick his face, but soon changed his mind on that thought when he caught wind of its breath once more. Apparently Ace had been in the Batcave for god only knows how long and had been staying in the garage. Off in the direction from which Ace had approached, Batman kept his numerous gadgets and vehicles in a second garage hidden beneath his normal upstairs garage. Beyond the garage was another secret passage that twisted and turned and eventually led out to an abandoned road that spiraled behind Wayne Manor and led deep into the heart of downtown Gotham City.
Straight ahead, however, was the famous costume wall that Batman had used to case all of his inventions and experiments in clothing. The first five cases were all suits that Batman had worn in the past; including the costume his father had worn that had inspired it all. Bruce had once recounted to Dick the story of his father at a Halloween masquerade ball that the Wayne's threw every year. Bruce told him that the night before he died; Thomas Wayne came to the party dressed up as a giant bat, with a gray cloth jumpsuit and blue gloves, boots, cape and a mask. Apparently Bruce's father, much like his son, had a penchant for the dramatic and made his entrance by descending from the rafters and knocking out four assailants who had been hired to kill him for political reasons. This costume would later inspire the uniform worn by the dreaded Batman, and Bruce would always refer to his father as the original Batman.
Beyond the various Batman suits were those worn by Batman's various partners over the years. Dick saw his first costume, the jumpsuit he had worn as a part of the Flying Graysons and his second, more high tech suit. He saw the prototype of the Nightwing suit and the outfits worn by the three separate Batgirls. Lastly in the lineup were the costumes created for Tim Drake, the Boy Wonder. Dick Grayson took a moment to remember what it was like to be Batman's sidekick. He thought about how it felt to dress up and play superhero, like every night was Halloween or a romp through the playground of your elementary school. Then Dick remembered the day he left. He remembered how he told Batman that he was tired of playing second fiddle to an old man who couldn't hold his own without him. Dick was saddened as he replayed that conversation in his mind and watched himself drive away from Wayne Manor with hatred in his heart.
Then, in the last case, Dick saw something that he had never seen before. One of the earlier cases of Batman suits had been empty, but Dick deduced that that costume must have been the one Batman was wearing when he died. But in the last case was a new suit, seemingly never worn before. It was a traditional black suit that seemed to glow silver when the light hit it. The Bat Symbol on the chest was a light blue with silver trim and the tips of the wings curved up slightly higher than those in the past. The mask had a bulletproof fiber guard that slid down over the eyes and could transfer vision to night vision, thermal vision or magnified vision as needed. The utility belt was silver and had more tiny compartments than some of its predecessors. The suit itself seemed heavier than others in the line-up, but seemed like it could remain amply dexterous in the right hands. The cape seemed a different material than before but the mask's design remained the same as it had in the past.
Dick felt so frustrated that he had not been around to save his mentor that he burst into tears when he saw this unused suit. He leaned up against the glass with his left hand while using his right sleeve to wipe the tears from his eyes. It wasn't fair, he thought as he slammed his fist against the glass. Just then, the glass door slowly slid aside and the suit came forward on a track. A light inside the case turned on and illuminated the suit. After the case opened, all of the lights came on in the Batcave and the Bat Computer mysteriously turned on. Dick ran back to the middle platform and over to the Bat Computer, trying to assess the situation. Suddenly, Bruce Wayne's face appeared on the screen looking as vibrant as the day Dick had last seen him.
"Hello, Dick. Welcome home."