"He must have realised he was flying in economy!" Ron joked, but rather than the sound of laughter filling the air, the sound of a metaphorical tumbleweed rolling was evident.

"He never knew he was flying with the public, under a fake name and passport, with no possessions or money. Ron you seem to be crap at knowing when to stay shut-up." Caiden responded with a stern look. Imperceptibly, Ron nodded his head and then mimed a zip going across his lips.

"So what now? He's gone with the suit, with the knowledge that London's falling and that the British won't be able to cope. But after seeing his skills after four months, I think he'll be fine."

"I wouldn't be so sure, he hasn't left the house since the law was passed, he's probably lost the stamina he once had, and the strength. I don't think he will be able to cope." Alfred stated, his tone of voice was layered with doubt and stress. "He'd been sat on that couch for almost 3 days straight. You need to find him before he gets to England. I know for a fact his abilities won't be what they used to be and he needs to be brought back into the justice driven state of mind that he had before. Also, he must be slapped back into reality, that there is more than what's inside the house."

Caiden proceeded to take out his mobile phone and began to punch in the digits for MI6 while Alfred continued to whine.

"He's gone, hold on, I'll put you on speakerphone…" Caiden unlocked the phone and touched the megaphone symbol, indicating the speaker. "...You're on with Balfour, Ron and Alfred, Bruce's butler."

A British accent echoed around the cave: "What do you mean 'he's gone'! I told you to get him to London in one piece, God know what he'll do now!"

"I mean, sir, that he took a suit and left. We need you to use your tracking devices to see where abouts he is" Caiden refrained from saying about how in Bruce's current state of mind, he could be in a bar for all they knew.

"Fine, but this is on you if he stays unreachable." The English man hung up and the dial tone rang out in the cavernous halls. Abruptly, Ron's tablet rang into life with a notification from an unknown number. With hesitation, Ron peered at the screen: 'Don't worry, he's not too far.'

The group seemed suspicious, no one outside the government could, supposedly,could access an encrypted communications network. The passwords to certain documents in the network were over 32-characters long, and even after you get through that, there's a separate firewall.

Who ever this mysterious message-sender was, they were obviously clever enough to hack a highly protected system.

Caiden's eyes went narrow as he looked at the screen displaying the message.

"This is either out blessing in disguise, or some idiot trying to make a point."

The three of them ran down the the narrow passageway into the lower platform. They made their way past the computer and were headed for the tunnels, when they were stopped by Bruce.

"Well at least this still works!" Bruce showed them a grappling hook which he fastened to his waist. His time away from reality had began to change his persona.

"What are y- You should have told us you were still down here. We thought you'd left for London already…" Caiden started with anger in his tone, but upon realising that he was raising his voice, he tried to sound calm.

"Tell me where I need to be."

"In plain clothes, at Gotham International, Terminal B, by 2PM," stated Caiden.

"Why there? I can get there on my own accord," said Bruce, frustrated.

"We need to be sure you'll actually be there, rather than trick us into thinking you'd do it."

Both Caiden and Bruce exchanged glares for a good few seconds, when Bruce removed his scowl.

"Get that off, we can take care of the suit. Wait in the manor for Alfred, he needs to see you."

Bruce sighed as he unfastened various clips on the suit, handing the whole thing, eventually, to Balfour.

Balfour collapsed under the weight of it: "How the hell do you cope with this?"

"Enduring years of hell, something which you will never be able to comprehend." He ended this statement with a sharp rise in tone as he turned back into the tunnels back into the manor.

Alfred eventually caught up with the men from Sector 16, where he was welcomed with: "Go and catch him up."

Already seemingly exhausted from todays events, he reluctantly began to jog down the tunnels. Five minutes later, both Bruce and Alfred met at the iron door in the hallway.

"Bruce, put some normal clothes on and read this…" Alfred handed Bruce the sheet of paper from Caiden, "...It's a list of profiles who we believe are involved in this plot."

"Alright." Bruce remained mute as he made his way to his room to put on a t-shirt and jeans that were left on the floor from previous days.

Down in the cave, Caiden dialled the number for the Sector 16, he said two words: "We're ready." The whole cave began to vibrate and a small stream of light began to flood in, becoming wider by the second.

"Ron, Balfour, come with me." Caiden instructed, and all three without hesitation began to sprint along the passageways and ledges back to the glass cabinets.

"Ground team, this is Kilo-four-six, how should we proceed?" An Osprey aircraft came into view overhead and hovered over the suits.

Caiden shouted into an earpiece, holding onto his black tinted shades as the downdraft buffeted the group. "This is ground team, take all of the suits, repeat, all the suits. Send down the platform."

"Copy." The pilot acknowledged Caiden and the belly of the aircraft began to slowly lower. About seven minutes passed before the platform reached the floor of the cave. Several marines with harnesses attached to the platform were crouched close to the edge.

The marines unfastened themselves and hopped off the platform and remained crouched as they approached Caiden.

"Get them all on the platform."

"Got it. We'll start with the one on the right."

The marines approached the cabinet on the right and grabbed it from the bottom, raising it about a foot off the ground.

"Move!" The lead marine shouted over the noise of the rotors. The team inched closer to the platform and raised the cabinet the extra foot up onto the surface. The marines pushed the cabinet towards the centre of the platform after they leapt onto it themselves.

The process of moving one cabinet from the floor to the platform seemed excruciating for the marines, and time consuming. But they were trained for this, they knew what the were doing.

The remaining cabinets varied in size, containing different materials for each suit, each with a bespoke tool. They looked hefty, the men's biceps rippled as they took on the weight.

The marines hopped back off the platform onto the cold stone floor and set to work on the second of the thirteen occupied cabinets.

"That last one took us 15 minutes, I want this done in 10!" The lead marine demanded. Marines like to set targets; no matter what it is, they will do it. Even if it means breaking an arm, they will stop at nothing to achieve this goal.

Within 10 minutes, the second cabinet was up on the platform. Caiden watched from a distance whilst Balfour and Ron made idle conversation.

By the seventh cabinet, each step the marines took sounded like torture.

By the tenth, they were visibly excruciated.

By the eleventh, they were unable to continue. Their grey uniforms were mottled with dark patches of sweat and their faces were red from their work's labours.

The group hoisted themselves up on the platform and fastened themselves to it, the lead marine signalling to Caiden to raise the platform.

Caiden nodded and spoke into his earpiece: "Kilo-four-six, this is ground team, raise the platform."

"Copy."

With ease, the three men from Sector 16 slid into the car, followed by Bruce and then Alfred.

"Tell me again why I couldn't just take my mode of transportation?" Bruce asked, his voice carrying a sigh along with it.

"We don't want you attracting any attention to yourself. You are to travel and act like everybody else. You find that hard, Bruce. You are a human like the rest of us," Caiden stated, his tone rising and falling like he was talking to a young child.

"When I want to be," Bruce said, mirroring the man's patronizing tone at the same time as sounding quite serious.

Sensing the tension, Alfred decided read out the procedure he would have to take to keep a low profile whilst he was out in London. It definitely did its job, as tension was quickly relieved.

Bruce continued to listen to Alfred, when the car stopped. The door was opened for Brice and he stepped out onto the concrete, outside Terminal B and Gotham International. The rain poured over him, and one of the men opened an umbrella above Bruce's head.

Sheltered, he was escorted to the entrance of the terminal. An Airbus A380 roared overhead as they entered the bustling terminal.

"So Benedict, good luck. You need to go to check in desk 42A. Here are your flight details." Caiden handed Bruce his passport and details. He bent over towards Bruce's ear, "Your name for security's sake is Benedict Henderson. Off you go."

Bruce was sent off to check in, Alfred and the other men from Sector 16 returned to their car.

"Thanks Alfred, we'll get a government car."

"Goodbye, and take care of Bruce. Honestly, he needs it"

Alfred bent into his car and drove off onto the interstate.

Check in was surprisingly quick, especially during the peak of tourist season. Within minutes, he'd passed check-in, security, and duty free. He felt the need to buy some cheap imported scotch from the off licence, but he resisted temptation and continued to the departure lounge, where he had an hour to kill. Instead of looking normal and browsing the various shops or buying an overpriced coffee from Starbucks, he proceeded to sit on a metal bench, opposite the departures board. Methodically, he'd check the departure board to check the status of his flight, until he heard: "British Airways flight 0001, now boarding economy class, proceed to gate 320."

Before the muffled announcement had even finished, Bruce was on his feet, beginning the 20 minute walk to the other end of the terminal.

He arrived in the knick of time, as the woman behind the counter was about to announce 'last call'

"Good afternoon sir," the woman greeted Bruce with an unusual British accent, "may I see your boarding pass?"

"You may." Bruce replied with courtesy, handing over the small slip of card with the flight details on."

The woman behind the counter examined the pass, before handing it back to Bruce with a forced smile. "Have a good flight, sir."

"Thank you." Bruce strolled along the boarding tunnel, briefcase in hand, thinking about what could happen to him while he was on foreign soil. At the end of the tunnel, he was greeted by a camp man by the plane door.

"You are right at the front, next to those children. Enjoy your flight!"

As the steward minced into the gally, Bruce frowned, in realisation that he would be spending the next six hours next to screaming toddlers. He squeezed his way past the children, stowing his briefcase above him, and sat down in the narrow seat. He gazed out of the window and watched as the rain continued to fall as he taxied out.

He would remain in this position for the next six hours, blocking out the noise by thinking the same thought over and over: 'What is really going on?'