The sun was starting to set at Wayne Manor. The fading light meant only one thing for Bruce Wayne. It was time to suit up. Looking out the large windows in the living room, he sighed. Home had been a lonely place in the past 6 months. Alfred was here, but everyone else had things to do and leads to follow. Dick was in Bludhaven with the Teen Titans, and even though Bruce had called several times, he never answered. He knew Dick was fine. He trusted that he was old enough to take care of himself, as Dick had said years ago. Or at least he hoped he was fine. He couldn't help but worry. Barbara was absent from all things cape related for awhile. Unable to be be neither Batgirl, nor Oracle. She called it a "vacation" and mentioned how he should take one. He refused of course. Justice doesn't take a vacation.
"Going out tonight, Master Bruce?" Alfred entered the room. The nightly worn bat suit draped over one arm.
"Yes, Alfred. I was just thinking about Dick and Barbara. I know where she is, but Dick hasn't returned my calls."
Alfred handed Bruce the suit, and he got dressed quickly.
"Now, Master Bruce, you musn't worry. You did say you trust he'll be fine."
"I know, Alfred. But I can't help but think about it."
"Well, stop thinking about it. You're starting to worry yourself and we don't need any of that. Go about your nightly escapades without fret."
"I shall." He mocked. Alfred huffed, displeased. Bruce would worry. He always worries.
Bruce left through the cave entrance. The Batmobile raced silently down the private road into the back streets of Gotham City. They laid wet with rain, and littered with Autumn leaves piled in apartment gutters, and drainage pipes. He parked the Batmobile in an alley, it armored up and cloaked itself with the touch of a button on his belt. It was the start of a long night. He could feel that much in the air. He grapeled up to the roof top of the apartment building closest to him. The sun was fading away completely. Now only like a slight pink ribbon across the horizon. It was breath taking from such a high elevation. He almost wished that Dick were here to see it with him. It was a peaceful scene.
But those thoughts washed away as the sky darkened, and sirens whaled soon after. Bruce switched on his communicator.
"Alfred?"
"Right here, sir."
"There's been a disturbance on the East side. What is it?"
"Checking."
"Hurry up."
"Ah, your average nightly robbery. The Penny Cafe on Rayne street. Albeit, the police seem to have it taken care of."
"I'll check anyway."
Alfred said nothing else, as Bruce headed across the city to The Penny Cafe on Rayne Street. It was, in fact, your average nightly robbery. The police had it handled too. Nothing but a couple of crooks, looking to make some money the easy way. But a cafe? Why a cafe? There was a jewelry store right across the street. It was a little suspicious, but it could have just been a random choice, or it may have been personal. But either way, it was under control now. Bruce disappeared to another rooftop, listening. The cowl's bat-ears were equipped with extremly sensitive sound projectors. They could pick up the human voice whispering blocks away from his location, and project it back to him just as fast. Bruce had many voices in his cowl that had been analized, recognized, and stored. Later to be "remembered" for any purpose, if necessary. Including Jim Gordon, Barbara Gordon, Harvey Bullock, Harvey Dent, Renee Montoya, Edward Nigma, Richard Grayson, Timothy Drake, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Jimmy Olsen, Lois Lane, Clark Kent, Billy Batson, Barda Free, Scott Free, and Diana Prince. There were, of course, many others added to that list. But he couldn't even remember them all. Those were just a few names that came to mind. He thought about the technology he had to work with. It was the very best in all of Gotham. Wayne Tech was the leading corporation in electronics as well as a few others. There wasn't anything better than what he had. This pleased him. So far the night was quiet, and the dark foreboding skies seemed almost sweet.
A soft rain began to patter on the city. No lightning in sight, no thunder at all. Just gentle rain. The little drops of water dripped down the chimneys, and lined the cracks in the sidewalk below. There were suburban houses on this side of Gotham. Big Barda lived in one of them. Or used to. Bruce recalled her many rants about Scott that he had hardly listened to. She was still upset with him, but their relationship wasn't or shouldn't have been his problem. Other problems had wracked his mind at the time. And did she ever ask him about anything? No. Because it wasn't her problem, right? Barda. She only ever thought about what hurt her, and never stopped to think about what might have been hurting him.
Bruce let his thoughts drift. He hardly had the time to reflect anymore. It was just like Alfred said. "One of these days you're going to have no time for yourself, Bruce. Or for anyone. There will be a day when you look back at the time and friends you lost, and you will regret your reckless decisions." Alfred was right, he often was. Now was the time to look back at everything, and regret. But Alfred forgot one thing. Bruce didn't have the time to regret.
He grapeled to rooftops one after another until he returned to the heart of the city. There was no point in lingering. Her office and corporate buildings towered high, reaching far past her dirty old apartments. They shined like beacons. Aglow with their bright company lights, the poor side of town looked like nothing but candle light compared to them. Most of the buildings in Gotham were ancient, and their history, unappreciated or entirely unknown. That was Gotham. Old bricks, from old times, when politicians were decent, when lawyers and district attorneys really believed what they sold, and when Gotham was just plain a better place. Back then, there were still bad people, there were still those who would rather destroy than save, and there was still an evil in it all. But even yet, if it were just 50, maybe a hundred years ago. Gotham wouldn't be the way it is today. With every hour, every minute, that passes. A new malicious crime is committed that plunges this city farther into darkness. People like the Joker, that don't care about life. They don't care about love, money, friends, or happiness. They don't care about anything but the game, and the game never ends. There are always new players, even if old ones fall out. There is always another to take their place. It's the same on both parties. But there is a difference between them. On one side, they are a malevolent, wicked people. Just waiting for a reason to come out of the woodwork. A reason to murder, injure, and torture the innocent, because something happened to them. Something bad. Some of them don't need a reason. Some of them are just that far gone. They don't need a reason to be a vile dishonorable being, unworthy of even a name. Unworthy of every step they take, every breath. But on the other side, they are decent, nomal people. Even though bad things may have happened to them, they broke free from the foul and corrupt. They are just people, yet some wear masks and some wear capes. Decent people, normal people. Bruce is a decent, normal person. Under the cowl, at least. He knows that he has to think like the enemy to defeat the enemy, but in the process, not be the enemy. That means no casualties. No one dies.
Bruce was quiet for awhile, absorbed in thought. There seemed to be nothing happening in Gotham right now. The streets were clear, and no cars lined them like the usual busy night. The traffic lights flashed green to yellow, to red every once in awhile. But there was generally no cars. He did a round check of the city several times in several hours. Now it was getting to be midnight. The city was still as silent as it was when the sun first went down. The prostitutes that regularly walked Adams Street by the old irish pub, and the liquor store weren't out tonight. The Iceburg Lounge that Cobblepot ran as an "out-of-Arkham" business, was shut down in the mean time, and not a single police siren whaled anywhere in all the city. It was certainly unusual. Especially for such a violent place.
Then the bat-signal lit the sky, and Bruce concluded that the peace would be gone soon. He came to the GCPD as quick as possible, assuming it was urgent. Commissioner Gordon stood on the roof next to the bat-signal waiting. He could count on it that Batman would never be late, and he wasn't. Only this time instead of arriving from behind, he arrived from the front, as not to scare the Commissioner again. It didn't work, he still jumped a little. But it was worth a try.
"Jim."
"You just can't stop yourself from jumping out at me, can you?" Jim laughed. Batman did not.
"Is this a social visit, or did you need something?"
"Well, actually. Gotham's pretty quiet tonight. No robberies, except for Rayne Street, no homicide, no nothing. I thought you'd notice."
"I did."
Jim lit a cigarette, and leaned on the new waist-high concrete edging. He looked out at the shimmering city.
"Something wrong, Jim?" Bruce approached cautiously, standing next to him.
"No, I was just thinking. There hasn't been much crime going on. Not a thing. It just makes me wonder, is all."
"I know, I wondered too." He paused. "Who is still in Arkham?"
"If you're thinking about the Joker, don't worry. He's still in there. Along with all the others over the past 6 months, when you dropped them back off."
"All of them?"
"That's right."
"For 6 months, and no one has escaped?"
"Yep."
"I find that difficult to believe."
"Well, if you wanna check I got the records. Or you can just go and look yourself."
"No thank you."
Bruce was actually a little shocked that the Joker hadn't escaped yet. Or Scarecrow, or Penguin, or even Mad Hatter. But he took Jim's word for it. He knew that Jim checked on a regular basis ever since the incident with Barbara. He hated the Joker as much as Bruce did.
The two stood in absolute quiet together. No words were exchanged for a solid 6 minutes. Either of them could have left, but there was really nothing else to do. It was slightly awkward. Slightly. Jim puffed his cigarette, and Bruce stood there like a stone gargoyle waiting for something bad to spring up. But nothing did. In fact, the two spent most of the remaining night together, eventually regaining conversation. At somewhere around 4 AM, Bruce finally left and circled the city once more before returning home at 6 AM. Alfred was waiting for him in the cave, as the Batmobile came roaring through the tunnel and coming to an abrupt stop. Bruce got out, removing his cowl.
"Good morning, Master Bruce."
"Good morning, Alfred. I hope you got some sleep."
"Of course. My word, I am not nocturnal."
"Ha."
"Tired?" Alfred inquiried.
"A little, yes."
"Off to bed then, you've been up all hours of the night. You require 8 hours minimum bed rest." Alfred shooed him off to bed, and Bruce obliged. By 1:00 PM he was fully rested and his mind woke him up naturally. He could smell breakfast in the air. Pancakes. Bruce got out of bed and did his morning exercise routine. Push-ups, first thing. Then he headed down stairs, still in his bat-suit. Alfred met him at the bottom of the stair well, glaring. Bruce stopped.
"What did I do?"
"You didn't change. At least act like you're civil, Sir."
"Oh, come on." Bruce whined.
"Shut it, and change into something a bit nicer." Alfred one again shooed him back to the bedroom, where Alfred handed him "something a bit nicer" to wear. It was his usual casual clothes. Tight black long sleeved shirt, black pants, and black dress shoes. All very expensive. Breakfast awaited him downstairs, and Bruce happily came down to it. It was pancakes, like he predicted. They were fluffy, and delicious. He pointed it out to Alfred, complimenting his fantastic cooking to regain household peace. It worked. The rest of the day was going to be spent researching, if something hadn't ruined that. But it did. As Bruce was leaving the room, the doorbell rang. Alfred went for it, but Bruce got there first. Harvey Dent stood there on his doorstep, hands in his pockets.
"Afternoon, Bruce."
"Harvey." He acknowledged.
"You're not busy are you?"
"No, I just woke up. Come in."
Harvey followed Bruce inside to the living room. Bruce wondered silently to himself, why Harvey might be here. What he wanted. It hadn't been long since Bruce had revealed his true identity to Harvey. It hadn't been long since he'd joined the Justice League either. There was reason to be wary. Harvey was known to fall back into old habits. He wasn't in control, half the time. No pun intended. But Bruce remained calm and cautious, as Harvey talked about the court that he had recently been to. He talked about how it felt being district attorney again. Just casual conversation, and it lead to nothing. It seemed more like a social visit. Bruce's mind slowly drifted away, and he only caught bits and pieces of the conversation. He was in a hundred other places. Bludhaven was one of them.
"Bruce, are you listening to anything I'm saying?"
With that, he snapped back to reality. He had almost forgotten Harvey was talking to him.
"Sorry, Harvey. I have some things on my mind. What were you saying?"
"Nevermind. It wasn't important. But I was wondering if-"
His sentence was cut off by a cell phone ringing. Bruce looked at the caller ID. It was Dick. Finally, he called.
"I have to take this."
Harvey sighed, and showed himself to the door, but Bruce didn't notice. He was just suddenly too busy. Too worried.
"Dick?"
"That's me."
"Why haven't you called me? It's been 6 months."
"Didn't have the time."
"Didn't have the time?" Bruce frowned.
"Hey, you know how it goes. I've been chasing leads and leads. Lead after lead! I feel like I'm being lead on."
Dick sounded tired.
"Why did you call? Why now?"
"Why not here? Why not now?"
"Stop fooling around. I want an answer."
There was a pause on the other line, as if Dick had to stop and think for a moment.
"Yeah, that's difficult to explain while not in person. But I can be there in 5. I guess I just called as a warning or something. I don't really know. See you in 5."
"Dick-"
But he had already hung up. He would be on his way, and Bruce still needed to do a bit of research before going out again tonight. But he was also worried about what information Dick would bring back to him. It could be something serious, considering he had been away for 6 months. No phone calls, no contact. If Dick hadn't contacted Bruce, he likely hadn't contacted anyone else he knew very well.