"...continue to investigate further into the incident...number of confirmed dead is unknown, however...Commissioner Gordon made a statement this morning...to worry. That all is...control...all that is needed is time for the GCPD...do their jobs. In other...billionaire Bruce Wayne was reportedly seen leaving...plane traveling to Europe...statement from a Wayne representative has told the media that he has decided to take a vacation after the events of Tuesdays attacks."

"Yeah, how does it not surprise me that the richest man in Gotham jumps ship when something awful happens? Things get alittle too real for you Bruce? Gimme a break." Michael vented to himself, grimacing at the radio even though he knew it wouldn't have anything to say back.

My eyes were opening weakly, mostly covered in dust from the longevity of my slumber, to discover that we were back and the lights which served as a beacon now surrounded us. My memory was still a bit cloudy and disorientation took me, looking all about and letting it all sink in as if my eyes were seeing it for the first time all over again, mentally noting to myself where the alleyways ended and the streets began. As far as the car's clock was concerned it was just after midnight, but something about the dead silence of the streets made it seem far later. But if there was one thing I could tell as a fact for as long as I would live, Gotham was one of the few places that you never, ever believed the silence. Normally, there were far more people out and about no mater how it looked or the time of night, they just weren't the types of people you'd want to be associated with. Not always, mind you, not in my game plan to make the lot of them out to be criminals, as some of my best friends growing up here were a bit shady. And it's ot their fault, desperation breeds thieves, and then prisons house them while their only crime was living in a world which set them up for failure from the very second they were conceived.

"Well, you definitely slept long enough, I thought i'd be celebrating your trip back home all by myself. Of course, with the random garbled sounds of snoring and you drooling all over the place to keep me company. We'll be at my place in a couple minutes, it's a bit better then the last shithole I lived in." Michael explained groggily, as much of a trooper as I knew him to be he was in no condition to go partying tonight.

"Should be fun, *yawn* I've never seen an 'impressive shithole' before." I pointed out as I tried to stretch a bit and regain my barring's, my counterpart wanting to chuckle but only managing a slight smirk, his energy all but drained.

Michael went to school for more years then a man of his nature had any business doing, but then again I often mused that maybe the former was the causer of the ladder, and he was really just painfully jaded. After nearly fifteen years and college he found himself sitting comfortably as a general practitioner in the underbelly of Gotham, although he proudly could say he was well regarded amongst the poor as well as the well to do. For years he would use outlandish amounts of gas in order to make house calls no matter the area, but after the one night he got mugged by a couple who simply pretended to need help delivering a baby...he felt a bit more discretion was needed. These days he mostly dealt with high end clientele, or at least that was what I knew of him a year ago. He would never admit it, but night when he faced the true nature of this city and felt the cold steel against the back of his head, he finally gave up trying to ignore the truth. I was never a religious person, nor will I ever be, but if there ever was a Sodom and Gomorra, it's spirit lives anew in my own backyard.

The car screeched to a halt once more and we found ourselves outside of a towering apartment complex, mainly plain brick and mortar although in parts it seemed like they had tried to do repairs and just placed any bricks they could find where need be. Yes, more red and maroon then anything, but then more curiously there was splotches of yellow and blue and most odd...black. Michael pushed a small button next to the door and a voice came over a small speaker on the opposite side, strangely enough far newer then anything else on the entire structure, and most likely installed within the last month. We were buzzed in and a loud click could be heard as the front door to the lobby unlocked itself, and we made our way up the stairs with my belongings in tow, quickly learning to hate my friends new apartment for nothing more then the dozen flights of stairs it took just to get to his pad. I found myself panting by floor seven, while he just seemed to press onward, although I have a theory that there's only so much wear a person can take...and then they become invincible. On second thought, that sounds ridiculous.

"Hey...Michael...what were renting this fucking apartment from the hunchback of Notre Dame of something?" I teased as we rounded the last set of stairs and he fiddled with a nearly full-to-burst keychain in his pocket. "What? Was your first thought to just murder a janitor and steal his keys? Well, at least you're not a ninja or something that requires stealth."

"Will you shut up? This coming from the guy who has two styles right now? Let's see..."I forgot to take my pills" and "can you spare me some change?" He fired back faster then I had expected, my breathing returned to normal as he found the key he had been looking for and opened the door to his loft.

Surprisingly enough, since the last time I managed to be under the same roof as him, things were a tad bit more organized. That being said, there isn't much that could have been improved upon when your starting point for making a difference is "quelling the fears that something was living under the sacks of clothing" which were once all over the floor. He was a bachelor and i'm sure he cleaned up when he would entertain, but I think I can count on one hand the number of times I saw him bring somebody home. Those few times though, I wont fault the guy on taste. It was like watching an animal longing for food yet always leaving hungry, as while there are other options, he refused to settle for anything less then his own vision of beauty. A bit misogynistic at times, but he was admirable at the worst of times. The old soul shambled past me in a daze and made his way over to a dingy, yet artfully tacky couch on the far side of the room, trying to stay awake for just a few more seconds as he tried to speak to me once more. His body protesting all the way through.

"There's...a guest room at the end of the...hall. I'm going to...take you out tomorrow...to celebrate. I...have to talk to you then." He said absent mindedly as he finally gave into slumber for the night. And exactly as he said, I found a room down the hall, empty save for a bed and a single dresser. My body hit it as if I was trying to maximize the impact when I at long last hit the soft silk. My mind had much to think on, but tomorrow was another day.