Ch. 6: The After Party

After the party had ended, John Blake couldn't sleep. The night had truly been eventful and he had every reason to be tired, but whenever he closed his eyes all he could see was the faint light of the main computer in the batcave. Its glow permeated his eyelids, keeping him from focusing on anything but the username that had been emblazoned in bold letters on the screen; taunting him with its knowledge.

Finally giving in, he got out of his bed and crept down the hallway, hoping not to wake any of the children living in the surrounding rooms of the orphanage. As he reached the main study, he started towards the piano to key in the code that opened the secret passage when he heard a quiet breath give out nearby.

Looking around frantically, he whispered, "Who's there?" But heard no reply. He flipped on the light to survey the room but saw nothing. Checking behind every piece of furniture and in every hiding spot he discovered no one else in the room with him.

Satisfied he double checked the hallway and flipped the lights back off before panging the notes on the piano. The passageway opened and Blake used the elevator to descend to the batcave below.

Upon reaching his destination, he found the cave still dark and empty except for the computer which was still up and running. He also noticed someone sitting in the chair in front of it and could hear a sharp tapping noise coming from the keyboard.

"Back from the dead a second time, I see?" Blake shouted to the stranger.

"A testament to the failure of the living," the figure retorted.

"Failure?" Blake answered angrily, "Last I checked, Gotham hasn't had one terrorist attack in the three years since you've been gone, Bruce."

Bruce Wayne turned around in the chair and looked Blake squarely in the eyes. "The Batman wasn't created to just stop terrorists, he was a promise to the corrupt that justice would be coming for them."

"Well what corruption do you see these days?" Blake asked.

"An endless supply," Bruce responded, "The human condition."

"If you're talking about the weapon dealers, I'm already on top of it. I apprehended Crane earlier and found out the weapons are being sent across the bay to Metropolis to an anonymous buyer simply going by "Al."

"That all?" Bruce smirked.

"Oh, and that the weapons are being made right here in Gotham by," Blake paused, "by someone." He flinched as one of Bruce's eyebrows raised up.

"You really don't have a clue, do you?" Bruce sighed.

"Hey!" Blake shouted, "You left me here with no help, no working equipment, and no clue what to do about any of this, and then you just expected me to be the batman?"

"No," Bruce shook his head, "I guess I never expected there to still be a need for the batman. But in my time away I've come to realize that there will always be a need for the batman. In my youth I tried to kid myself about a life after all of this, a normal life where the people I love don't die and the haves don't prey on the have-nots. Only now I look back and realize how truly naïve I was. I set out to end corruption; to rid the city of crime. But there is no end to desperation. There is no end to greed and madness. There will always be evil, so there must always be Batman."

Blake was speechless. Before him sat an old man drained and broken from years of defending the weak despite being born into a life of privilege; his entire life altered by a single tragic event.

"Bruce, I'm sorry, it just hasn't been easy since you've been gone. First the military had the city locked down for almost a year to fix everything, and then after that they had Gordon on a chain doing everything by the book. Alfred was named the director of the Wayne Orphanage and has refused to even acknowledge anything about you or the Batman. And Fox has sworn off making weapons since Bane hijacked his entire secret supply and used it to nearly destroy the city. I've been completely on my own!"

"Oswald Cobblepot," Bruce said.

"Come again?" Blake asked puzzled.

"Oswald Cobblepot. He's an information dealer and weapon trader who has been using his club, The Iceberg Lounge, as a front to conduct his illegal activities for over two and a half years uptown. He's most likely not the one making the weapons, but he'll definitely know who is and should be our best bet to get some information about what we're dealing with."

"How did you come by this information?" Blake was shocked.

"Jim Gordon told me," Bruce smiled, "Not a few hours ago after his speech. While you were talking to his daughter."

"Commissioner Gordon told you, just out of the blue?"

"No of course not, I asked him."

"Did anyone see you?" Blake's eyes got big.

"Just Jim," Bruce titled his head, "Don't forget who evaded an entire police force for an entire decade dressed in a big black batsuit. I know how to go unseen."

"You're going to have to teach me that trick sometime," Blake said shaking his head.

"I know," responded Bruce.