I didn't dream while I was in there. I didn't feel the cold that stayed my breath and permeated my skin, flesh and bone. The cold that stilled my heart, made me indistinguishable for a corpse. It made me think back to the physiology of Victor Fries, and the parallels that I drew between us surely would have made me shiver even in that state. It's scary to realise just how similar the heroes and villains can be sometimes.

Upon awakening, my mind was momentarily sent into a panic. It had not felt as if any time had passed, which created a sort of temporal dissonance between my mind and reality. Like jet lag on an extreme, mind-shattering level. As the pod slowly heated up and frost melted down into liquid, my brain slowly began to send signals to the rest of my body again. I regained the ability to move, however I was quite stiff. I began to feel the biting cold, however the pods soon ensured that it gave way to warmth. My heart resumed its rhythmic beat, which I could confirm from the rushing of blood from within my ears. Looking out of the front window of my body I saw that I was the second-to-last person to be unfrozen, as everyone was present but Bullock. They all looked gaunt, perhaps partly from waking up and partly from still coming to terms with the situation. They all seemed huddled together, apart from Alfred who seemed busy bringing everything back online at the console of the supercomputer. As my body began to feel some semblance of normalcy, the pod hissed as the front door raised to let me out. Montoya approached as I stepped out and caught me as my legs gave way underneath me.

"It happened to all of us," she said, draping my arm around her shoulder and holding my upright as I tested my weight on my own legs. "Apparently, your legs just need to get used to holding your body again. I feel sorry for Bullock's legs she says glancing over at his pod. I glanced over too, only to be met with a half-delirious Bullock holding a middle finger up in our direction. It was impressive that he managed to read her lips in that state. Montoya sent her own finger right back as Catwoman went to help him out.

After a few minutes, I had regained the ability to stand. Bullock was still adjusting and I could tell that the more time it took, the more he felt that Montoya's jab held weight. Using me newly re-acquired motor functions, I made my way to Alfred, recalling his breakdown as my pod did its work.

"Hey, I know this must be rough on you..." I began, hand on the back of his chair.

"Wait!" Barbara's hoarse voice called, though it was too late. Alfred Pennyworth was nothing but bones. I momentarily wished that the chair had not masked all but his legs from sight, otherwise I would have noticed this. It was one of the sights that, once seen, burned themselves into the brain. Sinking their teeth in so deeply that you knew you would always bear the scars.

The bones looked brittle. They were flaking, as could be seen by Alfred's suit, which was covered in little bits of him. There was no flesh left to be seen, only the corpses of insects which had fattened themselves on him. There was a little lump underneath his shirt which, on inspection, was the corpse of one of the many bats that called this cave home. Looking up, I could see many more corpses littered throughout the cave. They must have starved when the cave was locked down to prevent any radiation from leaking in and killing us.

"What happened to him?" I asked, turning to my compatriots. Bullock looked up at me, confused. "Why didn't he get in the pod?"

"Dad, the pods could only be activated from the outside," she said. "One person had to stay out to seal the last person in. Alfred volunteered from the beginning. His heart couldn't have handled the process anyway. He'd been having palpations for a while, induced through both old age and stress. He had to be the one." She wasn't even looking at me anymore. It was clear she was just trying to convince herself, though she didn't believe it. I knew that she felt she had to be the one. I knew why, too.

"We need to bury him," she said, wheeling herself up to his chair. "In Wayne Manor's graveyard. With... with his family." R. Robin's gaze went to the ground at this. Catwoman tried to keep herself busy with Bullock, though it was clear she was also affected.

I put a hand on my daughter's shoulder. "I agree," I said. "Let's go."

I repurposed a drop-pod for one of Batman's gadgets into a makeshift coffin for what was left of him. It was more fit as an urn, though. Especially given how the bones of the butler crumbled to the touch. We eventually had to scoop the remains up with a dustpan and brush, like he was nothing but trash. I wrapped the pod in his uniform, masking the bat symbol embossed on the pod's door. R. Robin, who told me his name was Tim after I called him that to his face, requested to be the one to carry the pod. There was sadness in his expression, though it was barely visible. It was a deep respect for the man in his arms that dominated his expression, setting his jaw into a seriousness that was reminiscent of the Batman himself.

We each filed into the elevator and the doors closed our view on the dead bats in the dimly lit cave. The journey was deathly silent. Not even Bullock dared speak, something he was well known for doing back in the precinct.

No preparation could have been made for the moment those doors opened themselves up again. There was little of the mansion left standing. Most of it was strew on the ground in little pieces. The legacy of the Waynes was reduced to rubble and scattered wealth. The sky was mostly clear and the sun shone merrily upon the wasteland of Gotham. Looking out towards the city, the one thing that was immediately noticeable was that the only skyscraper to survive the event was the WayneTec building. This didn't seem very surprising to me, considering what I had learnt about the Wayne himself. The buildings I could make out were in varying degrees of destruction. It was worth noting, however, that it looked like some had been built back up again after the blast.

"Come on," Robin said, turning his back on Gotham. "To the graveyard."

The small graveyard of the manor was another unsettling sight. The blast had unearthed a lot of the graves. Some coffins had even been brought completely out of the ground and flung far from their holes. Some had opened and released the bones of their occupants into the world once again, their eyeless sockets gazing upon their wasted city. We were led to the one intact grave remaining.

"They would survive," Robin said. "Waynes are survivors."

The hole was dug quickly. With the combined efforts of Montoya, Robin, Bullock, Catwoman and I, we managed to make a hole with our bare hands that was large enough to accommodate the small coffin. Tim placed him down gently, tenderly.

"You were like a grandfather to me," he said quietly. "I'll never forget you." We replaced the earth on top of the pod and stood, heads bowed, for a while longer. After some time had passed, we eventually were snapped out of it by the Red Robin, Tim.

"He wouldn't want us to stay inactive on his account," he said. "We need to get to work."

We retreated back down into the Batcave to prepare. Barbara moved the chair before the supercomputer to one side, positioning her own wheelchair in its place. She began tapping away at the computer, bringing it fully back to life.

"We're gonna need to start by scoping Gotham out," she said, not taking her eyes from the monitors. "I'll stay here with Bullock and Montoya and dad and give you whatever info I can."

"No way," Montoya and I said in unison, glancing at one another as we both noticed.

"Listen," Barbara said, turning to face us, "Tim and Damien are superheroes. You aren't. You probably won't be able to handle what's out there like they can."

"Bullcrap," I said, while Montoya simply wandered off. "I am a cop of this city: it's my damn job to protect it."

"There's only so much you can do. You're not an army. Just look at what happened to the city, you couldn't stop that."

"Last time I checked, neither could they."

"Bruce gave his life to ensure that the citizens of Gotham could survive. He did far more than the police could ever-"

"Tadaa." Came Montoya's deadpan voice. As all eyes turned on her, the tension of the situation was instantly diffused. Montoya was wearing what looked like a variation of one of Batman's old suits. It clung like a second skin, black as pitch. The belt, gloves, boots and bat-symbol were crimson. The mask was no longer a cowl, but instead a large red V that covered the same parts of her face that Batman's cowl did. The tips of the V emulated the ears of the cowl. It left room in the back for her hair to come out.

I turned on Barbara. "Was that the kind of outfit he planned for you to wear when you grew up? All tight and-"

"Relax there, commissioner," Montoya grinned. "This wasn't meant for your daughter. I found a terminal beside the little showcase this thing was in. It was meant for the Cat."

She gestured towards Catwoman, who scoffed. "Oh please," she said, picking up her mask and putting it on. "I'd never wear something like that. Bats are such ugly little things. I'll always be a cat at heart."

"Then you won't mind if I borrow this, then," she replied before turning her attention to Barbara. "See? There we are. Superhero. I can go now."

She sighed, before relenting. "Ok, well, fine, but my dad still can't-"

"Don't be so sure," I replied, heading over the way Montoya had disappeared to; the armoury. I looked at the different outfits on display. A Robin costume, a few of the older Batman designs. I picked one out and quickly put it on.

The suit I chose had more padding than that of Montoya's or the Robins. It was meant for somebody who couldn't move as quickly and was designed to take more hits. Even though I was essentially wearing a suit of armour, it never felt like I was. It was light, almost as if it was afraid to allow its full weight to rest upon me.

I came back to the disc with the supercomputer, where Barbara's eyes widened and her head and hands shook vigorously in denial.

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "No, no, no."

"Listen," I said. "Gotham needs help. Either I go out there and try to help it as the police commissioner, which likely leads to me getting killed, or I head out there as Batman and really start to make a goddamn difference. Either way, I'm going out there."

"But I don't want you to get hurt dad."

"I was a cop in Gotham for years. It's a bit late for that. Besides, with you providing back up from here, we won't get hurt, will we?"

"But I'm not sure what I'll even be able to do from here."

"I believe in you, Babs. I know you'll be able to do something."

She stayed silent for several minutes, and I kept my eyes locked on hers. Eventually, painfully, reluctantly, she gave in.

"If you can't keep up with them on this first run," she began, motioning to the Robins, "then I will make sure that you don't go out like this, ok."

"Don't worry," I replied, leaving no time for doubt. "That won't happen."

"You'd better be right," she said, returning her attention to the console. We sat around for a while, during which she tapped tirelessly away at the keyboard. Eventually she turned back to us.

"Right, well, as you might have guessed I can't really get much. The bombs took out most of the flimsier electronics. Everything's still working fine at the WayneTec building, though, so we should start there. The people of Gotham that made it there must be waking up just now, too."

"So first on the list," Tim surmised, "is to get to Wayne Tower and keep order while the people there wake up, right?"

"Right," Barbara replied. "But be careful. It's been hundreds of years out there; we have no idea what affect the radiation could have had."

"Wait, hundred'sa years?!" Bullock blurted out.

"Yeah, why do you think we were frozen? Did you not see Alfred's body?" Damien turned to me. "You sure this guy's a detective?"

"I never said he was a good one," I replied."

"...Dat really hurts, commish."

"It's not commissioner anymore," Tim said, putting a hand on my shoulder and nodding. "Isn't that right, Batman?"

I returned the nod. "Right."

"But," he said, "first we really should do something about those." He pointed at my glasses, which were perched as best as I could manage them on the front of the cowl.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Barbara said, turning to the console. "I know what type of lenses he uses. Take them off, dad."

I did what I was asked. Everything remained blurry for a moment, but that quickly changed. It was remarkable how the world seemed to shift once again into perfect clarity before my eyes.

"How did you do that?" I asked.

"Easy there," Barbara replied, "the cowl has lenses too. It's connected to the computer. I can have you seeing heat signatures or trace amounts of chemicals in the air with the push of a button too. It's no miracle."

"Ah. I see."

"C'mon," Damien said, already heading to the elevator out of the cave. "Let's get going."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just take the plane?" I asked, pointing to it, still securely in place where it had been the first time we entered the cave.

"Best not to risk that just yet," Tim said, following Damien. "We don't know what affect the bombs had on flying."

I nodded before turning back to Barbara. I kissed her gently on the forehead before holding her tightly in my arms. "I'll be back soon, honey, ok?"

"I know you will," she said, returning the hug with just as much vigour. "I know you will."

I released her and followed Selina, Tim, Damien and Montoya as they headed towards the elevator.

"Oh, and Bullock?" I called back to the computer as I stepped into the elevator.

"Yeah?" He yelled back.

"Clean up the damn bat corpses, will ya?"

Bullock cursed, Barbara laughed, the doors closed.

It was time to fix Gotham.