Wednesday, August 5, 2009 – 7:28am – Wayne Manor; Gotham City, New Jersey

Light suddenly brightened the empty foray with the flip of a switch. As he wandered through the hall, the cool air from the kitchen greeted him when he reached the grand staircase in the middle of the house. He paused at the bottom of the marble stairs, tilting his head as he remembered the memories created here. Racing down them when mother returned home, father carrying him up them when he fell asleep in the study, him sliding down the marble banister while Rachel reprimanded him from the top of the stairs.

He shook his head, erasing the image of her six-year-old face from his mind, and continued towards the study.

He placed his thumb on the fingerprint-reader that blended into the wall. One of the bookcases on the opposite side of the room swung open with ease. Stepping inside, the room looked like a simple security room. Monitors lined a desk streaming surveillance feeds from throughout the Manor. However, once he typed in his favored combination of numbers for the week into the ten-key pad on one of the three keyboards on the desk, another hidden door behind him established itself from the wall and slid open. Stepping into the newly revealed elevator, another tap of yet another button had him speeding downwards. The first level of the cave flew past him before he could recognize the remnants of the wreckage from the previous Manor scattered around, making the area look unused. But within moments, rock suddenly turned to a spacious view and he quickly approached the bottom of the basin where lights flickered on at the descent of the elevator, illuminating the dark cave. The elevator slowed silently to a stop before allowing its door to slide open, and Bruce stepped out onto the cement walkway before taking a moment to admire the view.

They'd stumbled upon this basin when exploring the wreckage of the upper level of the caverns over a year before. Enough brick and mortar had collapsed onto one spot, causing the floor to collapse as well. It was a straight fall into the underground pond.

Further investigation proved this to be an air pocket from the underground stream that the waterfall on the end of the Manor's property supplied, making flooding unlikely. However, being as cautious as they were, they still installed their own flood-proof tactics.

The walk-way connected the wings—circular rooms of a sort, without walls and each with its own size and purpose—each brilliantly lit with lights that encircled it. Garage, medical, equipment, training, R&D, and storage wings. It allowed so much more room, and it was much more sophisticated than the lights he had strung up himself and a couple of work benches.

And secure.

He paused as he strolled by the equipment wing, lingering as he gazed at the large, enclosed cabinet that housed his other identity. He was never planning on wearing it again, but it was there. All of this was built just in case. Just in case the League decided to return with a new leader fighting for its cause, just in case the Joker somehow escaped and the police couldn't handle him, just in case someone new, someone worse, came along.

Tearing himself from his spot, he continued on to the R&D wing. On this platform, one of the largest, a single countertop lined the inside of the space, circling around a center console filled with monitors. He sat down at the desk and made the computer return to life.

But while the screen stared at him impatiently, he debated with himself. He hadn't been in here in nearly a year. He hadn't been near Batman in nearly a year.

He gently touched his torso in remembrance. A couple of sharp, white lines gleamed here and there. And a disgruntled circular scab stood out from the rest of the scars on his abdomen as the ugliest and largest one. Not to mention his ribs still ached when the pressure changed or he bent just the right way.

And those were just the physical scars.

Now his curiosity needed to be satisfied. He had been reminded of it all too many times since he'd come back to not need to just take a peek into his other life.

He pulled up the GCN news feed. Already they were running an expose on Bruce's return to Gotham, with pictures of him from the fundraiser already posted. But he wasn't interested in gossip. He wanted to know about his city.

Rewinding the archives back a year, he reminded himself of the details of the repercussions of that night.

The GCPD was cleaned out, with internal affairs investigations still going on. The MCU was still shut down. Even Gordon was suspended along with everyone else. Mayor Garcia had pulled in transfers from all over to make up for the losses and they still had yet to return home a year later. Bruce couldn't help but smile when he saw a couple of familiar names on the list of transfers: Allen and Montoya. The Chechen was found dead, and Sal Maroni died in a coma after two months in Mercy General. The Joker's trial only lasted a day after his week spent in Blackgate—he'd been declared insane within the first hour and transported immediately to Arkham Island with no small amount of security. And Batman, of course, was number one on even the FBI's most wanted list.

All of this he had expected. Or at least he had hoped for. But what threw him was the drastically dropped crime rate. The press had been wrong, according to the statistical records. Maybe people were uniting after what had happened. Petty crime was no longer important after what they had survived. Or maybe the superstitious and cowardly lot of criminals were still reeling from what had happened, they still had yet to get their bearings to do some nasty things again. With Maroni leaving no clear heir, the mob was virtually frozen, and the blessing was that no one decided to initiate a hostile takeover—well, if there was anyone left to initiate one, that is. Or maybe the transfers did help the GCPD. Maybe the police force could finally act as a legitimate one again.

Or maybe it was because Batman was gone.

Maybe.

He cast one last, long glance at the photo of the broken flood light a photographer had snatched while it was stored in the GCPD impound lot. The black metal piece was sticking out—the wing the only thing he could recognize. Then he shut everything off.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009 – 9:43am – Wayne Enterprises, R&D Department Headquarters; Gotham City, New Jersey

"I'm beginning to wonder if you ever go home," Bruce commented lightly as he strode from the private elevator, moving deeper into the large sub-basement of the previous temporary Wayne Tower.

Lucius Fox chuckled lightly as he gently lowered a pair of tweezers before turning in his chair. As Bruce approached, Lucius gazed up at him from behind his spectacles. "It's good to see you again, too," Lucius commented with an amused gleam. They both found the amusement in Bruce keeping up his façade, even though Lucius knew well enough what he used to do at night. But before speaking again, Lucius paused for a moment, sizing up his employer. Bruce had an idea what that was about—Alfred and Lucius had gotten closer since Batman took flight over two years ago.

"I've been working on our little gizmo from a while back," Lucius finally said. Bruce cocked an eyebrow as he spared a glance towards his workspace. Sure enough, there sat the bullet bouncing gizmo, though it was mostly dismantled. Bruce had test run the device on himself, and it had worked wonderfully. The only problem was that it literally bounced bullets off of him and hit anyone standing nearby. But Lucius had managed to up the gizmo's energy supply so the bullets would simply drop the ground. Round two testing was done by Gordon and proved to work when Deadshot the assassin tried to shoot him…until the gizmo overloaded and the second shot Deadshot got off landed in Gordon's arm. Needless to say, Bruce had thought that the gizmo was left in the pile of failed and useless prototypes. But leave it to Lucius to find a use for anything.

"The bullet bouncing one?"

"That's the one. I'm trying to find other ways to use this sort of energy. Without trying to stop bullets, it could be used for something less dangerous. But," he added as he stood, already moving away from the desk and through the large basement, expecting the younger man to obediently follow. Bruce cast one long glance at the device before doing just that. "I have something for you."

They approached the far end of the subbasement and Lucius typed in a password on the keypad on the wall. After a small beep of approval, the garage door they were standing in front of slid upwards as the lights inside flickered on. There sat what looked like the original Tumbler, but with minuet changes that Bruce managed to notice. The flaps and windows were larger, it looked more armored, and there weren't as many gun barrels jutting out from the front of the tank.

"I had been working on it before you let the original prototype get hit by an RPG round," he said as he glanced to Bruce, who didn't shed a flicker of surprise. Lucius had been working on his own projects as well, and Bruce had plenty of good guesses as to what they were. "It has the same basic structure and design as the original, but I've altered it to fit more…domestic needs."

"Just when I thought the original was perfect," Bruce emptily joked as his dark hues remained on the sleek, black tank.

Lucius paused, sizing Bruce up again. "And there's something else, too."

Bruce cocked a brow. "More?"

The elder man gave a simple nod. "Your wings should be ready as well."

Now this was a surprise. Bruce had been helping Lucius with this particular project since before the Joker. And when they suddenly stopped, Bruce had assumed that Lucius was still irritated with Batman's last request of him. Apparently Lucius had hurriedly finished it himself instead. Although as to why, he could only wonder. "Mr. Fox," Bruce began, instantly earning the other man's full attention.

"Yes, sir?"

Bruce slowly shook his head, "Batman doesn't exist anymore. We can't keep making this technology."

"Pardon my saying so, Mr. Wayne, but I believe there is a phrase that goes, 'Better safe than sorry.'"

Bruce frowned.

"Besides, it's not all about you. While building this technology, I've found some great advancements to apply towards our other departments. If it wasn't for our wings project, the latest line of military helicopters would not currently be in production," Lucius stated as he leaned against the table.

Bruce blinked. "So…I can still test drive it, correct?"

Lucius grinned, "I thought you were never going to ask."