Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, and I most certainly don't own Wayne Enterprises, so please don't sue me.

Chapter 3: A Splendid Party

Alfred straightened Bruce's bow tie, "I hope there won't be a repeat of the drunken speech you gave last year, Master Wayne."

"Don't worry Alfred," Bruce replied assuredly, "I've hired an excellent team of security guards. No one is spoiling the party this year."

"You are staying for the entire party, are you not, Master Wayne?"

"I think Gotham will survive one night without Batman."

"Well then," said Alfred, gesturing towards the door, "your guests are waiting for you."

Bruce walked down the hall and entered the ballroom to a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday." He smiled and took a flute of champagne from a passing tray. Bruce raised his glass, "The last time I was, ahem, here, talking to all of you, my lovely guests, I kicked you all out and proceeded to burn my house to the ground. This year, the only flames you will be seeing will be the candles on my cake."

The crowd laughed. The small orchestra resumed playing and Bruce began working his way through the crowded ballroom towards the buffet table, stopping and greeting guests every step of the way.

In the far corner of the room, Robin stood as alone as she could be in the crowded room, desperately hoping to avoid being sucked into one of the mind-numbingly dull conversations taking place around her. She looked across the room to spot any familiar faces. The only ones she saw were those of Mr. Fox, Bruce, and Alfred.

"Why Ms. Richards, it is nice to see you again. Master Wayne said that you would be here." Unlike his pleasantries exchanged with some of the other guests, Alfred seemed genuinely happy to see Robin. "You look lovely."

"Thank you Alfred, it is nice to see you again too. How's the Rolls?"

"Five years and not even a flat tire. And it is reassuring to know that my golf clubs will be safe should I ever encounter gunfire on my way to the course." Alfred smiled.

"Good to hear. Has Mr. Wayne inquired about the buttons in the armrest yet?" Robin asked, taking a glass of wine from a passing tray.

"Not yet. I'm assuming that that waiver I signed was put to good use?"

"Yes, and he was quite surprised."

"You do take the confidentiality of your clients quite seriously, don't you?"

"In my business, it can be the difference between life and death."

"Is it always business with you?" Bruce cut in while trying to gently shoo off a young female guest in a revealing red dress who was trying to drape herself, it seemed, over the billionaire.

"Actually," Robin replied, trying to smother a laugh at the desperate antics of the girl in red, and seeing that Alfred was trying to do the same, "I was thinking of getting out of the business and going back into research full time. I'm just a little too hot on the international independent security contracting scene at the moment," Robin pulled down the sleeve of one of her elbow-length green gloves to show the men the scar from a recently healed bullet wound to illustrate her point.

Both men winced.

"If you're looking for a job," Bruce seized the opportunity, "I've been working on restarting the Applied Sciences department and downsizing Defense Technologies, transferring people back. Since Mr. Fox has been promoted, I'll need a new department head. Would you be interested?"

"I'll have to think about it," Robin said as Bruce was whisked away by an older woman whose husband, she said, was just dying to talk to the young billionaire.

"You won't get a better offer than that," Alfred said before turning to direct some latecomers towards the coat check.

Robin wandered over to the buffet table, took a plate, and proceeded to try to determine which dishes were vegetarian.

Bruce meanwhile was yet again trying to get away from an overly amorous and very drunk female guest, this one a woman in her early sixties wearing a leopard print dress that was far too tight for her figure. As he moved through the crowd, he overheard a group of women debating the possible identities of Batman and wondering if he was as 'hunky' out of his suit as he was in it. Bruce sighed; this was going to be a long night.

Finally, Bruce spotted a familiar face in the crowd. "You barely know him," Bruce reminded himself as he approached Commissioner Gordon. "Commissioner! It's good to see you," Bruce said, relishing the opportunity to speak with his ally as Bruce Wayne rather than as Batman.

"Mr. Wayne, always a pleasure. You really know how to throw a party. Nice speech, by the way," Gordon said.

"How are the new computers working out?" Bruce asked, referring to the new computer system Wayne Enterprises recently donated to the Gotham Police Department.

"They're wonderful," Gordon replied. "Now if only we could get a cybercrime division more interested in catching crooks than playing solitaire."

"You'll get there," Bruce tried to sound encouraging, but he knew as well as Gordon did that they were fighting an uphill battle.

Robin stood alone on the balcony, watching the partygoers chatter and move about inside the brightly lit hall. She was never much of a party girl herself, feeling claustrophobic in large crowds among other things, but had accepted such events as part of her job. After spending ten minutes debating the merits of padded insoles with a woman who must have been old enough to be her grandmother, she needed some fresh air.

Bruce caught Robin's eye as he worked his way through the crowd towards the balcony, looking like he needed some fresh air himself, and she moved to meet him in the doorway.

"Mr. Wayne," Robin said, side-stepping a passing waiter, "it just occurred to me that…"

The crack of a pistol shot rang throughout the hall.

Robin looked at Bruce, shocked, and crumpled into his arms, both of them falling to the ground.

Several women screamed as a panicked rush for the exits began.

Commissioner Gordon rushed towards the prone figures while several security guards pursued the escaping gunman.

"Call an ambulance!" Gordon yelled to no one in particular.