The double glass doors to Gotham Police Headquarters open; Alfred -- dressed in a professional black & white tuxedo and a Bowler hat -- enters. He stops and waits a couple feet before the desk.
"Can I help you?"
Alfred steps forward after being acknowledged, "I'm afraid so; I've come to file a missing person report."
"Has he or she been missing for more than three days?"
"Yes; nearly two weeks now."
"All right. What's the name of this person?"
"Wayne; Bruce Wayne."
...
Dick swings open one of the doors to Wayne manor and runs in -- jumping down the steps to the living room floor area.
"Alfred? Alfred?!" he runs up stairs and to Alfred's room, but doesn't find him.
"I'm over here, Master Dick," comes Alfred's sad voice.
dick runs over to find Alfred squatting on a knee crying, "Alfred -- I got here as soon as I got the message. Are you all right?"
Alfred, whom is holding the drawn-open curtains lets go and replies, "Each day I keep drawing the curtains open and hoping Master Bruce will be there. I feel as though this is my fault."
"I'm gonna tell you what you told me before I left: poppeycock . how in the world could it be your fault?"
"His father entrusted me to see to Bruce's care. If only I had forbid him from the training; tried to take his mind off such rigorous contemplations of revenge, I ... I knew one day he might not come home; I fear the worst."
"You blame yourself for that?"
"I indulged him in it."
"and so did Bruce, but you don't think later on he never tried to talk me out of it? When I turned 16 and he started taking me out on patrols occasionally, many nights we sat on roof tops and he tried to convince me repeatedly that I could live a far better life. He could have cuffed me to the batpole and I'd still have gotten away and out there. Some things a guy just has to do."
Alfred wipes tears from his eyes as Dick helps him up, "Master Dick, these are all encouraging words, but ... I can't even find a locator signal. Someone knew to disable it. Back in my day of British intelligence, when someone didn't want you to be found, they took measures such as this."
"Well, I'm here now and I guarantee you I'll find him," he stands up, "and dead or alive ... I'll make the guy pay. You stay here and make sure he doesn't call an empty house; also make sure you phone all his current acquaintances -- just to make sure he's not just out on an emergency call. I'm gonna go check his office out at Wayne Enterprise."
...
As dick approaches the security desk he hears a man in front of it talking to the guards.
The man, a slender, built, shaved-headed black man in a business suit, speaks, "What do you mean he's not here? You said that three days ago. A guy's got to be around to run his company."
The security guard replies as Lucious Fox nears the desk, "I'm sure Mr. Wayne will be back eventually."
"So now it's 'eventually'."
"What's going on here?" Lucious asks with curiosity.
"Bruce Wayne hasn't' been here for days and no one seems to know why," replies the black man.
"Who are you?"
"Dan Riley," he offers to shake and Lucious takes him up, "Bruce saved my life once."
"Really?" Fox asks curiously.
"Yeah. You know him?"
Lucious chuckles, then pats Riley on a shoulder, "I'm Lucious Fox -- Vice President of Wayne Enterprises."
Riley blushes a little, "Sorry, I just thought, I mean -- I assumed he's be running the company all by himself."
Laughs a little, "Everyone always does. Bruce has a heck of a personal life. Hold on a second; Mr. Grayson -- how are you?"
Lucious and Dick shake hands, "Fine I guess; have you seen Bruce around?"
Lucious motions for dick to follow. They take a few steps away from the guard desk and Fox speaks lowly, "Just between you and I ... nobody knows where he is. No calls, no messages, he just vanished."
"Bruce would always call; something has happened to him."
"Let's keep this hush hush -- we don't need to panic the shareholders or alert our competitors."
"Agreed," says Dick.
A voice booms over the small black & white television on the guard desk, "This just in: official sources at Gotham Police Headquarters are telling us mutil millionaire and current owner/inheritor of Wayne Enterprises, Bruce Wayne, is missing. We'll have more on this story as it develops. I'm Summer Gleason."
Riley looks around, then sneaks out unnoticed by the two.
"Great. It's only a matter of time before she calls me," Lucious then looks at the guard, "tell my secretary I'll be out for the rest of the day."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Fox."
"Say, where'd that young man go?" asks Fox.
"He left while you two were talking, sir."
"What did he want?" asks Dick.
"Said he wanted to speak to Mr. Wayne about getting a job," says the guard.
"Also told me Bruce saved his life once. Seemed like a nice guy. Anyway, you'll let me know if you hear anything?" asks Fox.
"I'll call you if I do."
"Thanks. Hang in -- maybe he'll turn up," Lucious looks at the guard, "Mr. Grayson has full access to the building. Good day, gentlemen," and he exits with a briefcase in hand.
Dick checks the visitor's sign-in sheet, noting the name Dan Riley before heading to an elevator.
The doors slide open and he starts walking down the hall.
"Good day, Mr. Grayson," says a guard as he passes by.
"You too."
Eventually he makes his way to the big wooden doors of Bruce's office and opens them with a key.
He makes his way across the long and specious room to the desk. Once there he looks around the desk; he fiddles with papers, looks in the drawers and attempts to find possibly hidden clues.
"ah ha," he fixates on a note pad that appears to have indentations on it; he takes a pencil and lightly shades over it until words from the previous note appear: get red stain out of big old suit. "How come it's always something useful in the movies," he comments aloud.
After finding nothing he walks over to the right. He opens a painting on the wall like a door to reveal a decoy safe. He spins the dial until it clicks, then presses it in. To the right, in the corner, part of the wall opens -- stretching the wall paper. He enters and closes it. The lights come on automatically to a small room; the walls were bleak & barren, featuring only power chords and piping. On the desk lie two computer screens, a keyboard and a phone. Dick turns the computer on and the screen lights up in bulky font in blue, asking for a password; he types it in and the screen flashes: Access granted. He sits and types.
"Computer," it clicks, beeps, and lights up in recognition, "set up a secure link to the Batcave computer."
"Link establishes."
"Show activity log on this computer starting from today to two weeks back."
"Processing."
After making it's usual sounds, a list starts scrolling down the screen steadily. Newspaper articles, keyword searches, and even names like Rupert Thorne and Roland Daggett pass by.
"There -- stop," the scrolling ceases and he pushes some buttons until one of the log entries is highlighted; he presses enter.
A newspaper articles comes up.
"Nuclear bombs missing; army official are unable to account for two small nuclear warheads en route from Gotham Air force Base to Fort Bragg, Texas. Criminal play in suspected. This articles is over three years old. Computer, go back to activity log; continue scrolling."
As it scrolls he catches a phone number.
"Stop," the scrolling rests, "computer, phone log from the same time period."
It beeps and only one number comes up.
"Computer, that's all the numbers?"
"Affirmative."
"Display details," commands Dick.
"None available."
...
...
A young black kid and a white grown up of small stature lie on the floor, belly down, with a chess board betwixt them.
The kid looks, then moves his bishop, "Check mate."
"What? No," the guy examines the board.
Ron -- the kid -- shoots up after hearing a car pull up, "Daddy's home!"
He swings the front door open and runs up to his father, whom has open arms and leans down to pick him up. Riley walks in with his son in arms.
"You're getting heavy. Been eating bricks for breakfast?"
"They taste better than bowling balls."
"Higher protein, I hear. Thanks for taking care of Ron, Sal," he puts his son down.
"Hey -- no problem; what are friends for? So, did you get a job?"
"No -- Bruce Wayne has been kidnapped."
"No follin'?" asks Salvo.
"Yeah. They didn't say as much on the news, but I got this feeling. I think he's in real trouble."
"We're just a couple of low social class chaps; what are we gonna do about it?"
"Can you tell my Laura we're playing cards tonight?"
"Sure. Why?"
"When I read the papers about Batman, sometimes it says he's known to go around asking for information."
"Yeah, but he's Batman and you're Dan Riley; I don't think they quiver with feat and spill the beans to you."
"I owe him. We both owe him. If it wasn't for him we'd still be prisoners mining that damn rock. He freed us and even gave you a job. In my heart I just can't do nothing."
"Do it, dad," says his son.
"Two against common sense. What happens if you should ... you know -- have an extended stay on Cloud Nine?"
"Me? I can handle myself."