Chapter 5
The bed was empty. It couldn't have all been a dream. Indeed as Alfred stepped from the brass caged elevator out onto the metal walkway of the cave, he was reminded that his master Bruce Wayne had in fact returned last night. Over the overwhelming sound of the waterfall, the lift to the second landing was nearly noiseless, yet all of the forty-eight year old butler's focus was wracked on the largely built man sitting behind the screen of the computer system installed in the middle of the floor. As Alfred approached, Bruce still didn't turn away from the screen.
"Master Bruce, it is eight thirty, have you been down here this whole time?" Still glued to the screens, Bruce hummed his affirming reply. "I must insist, sir, that you get some sleep!" Alfred said with astonishment, his tone as solid as his posture. Slowly, Bruce turned away from the computer, sighing as he looked up into Alfred's aging face. Ten years later and Alfred was still the most authoritive figure in his life. He had been Bruce's guardian in every sense of the word.
"I'll sleep when it's over," he said. Alfred gave a frustrated sigh before involuntarily glancing at the computer screen.
"What are you doing?" he inquired as he pushed his glasses in place on the bridge of his nose. Bruce turned back to his work.
"For the last month I've been gathering intelligence," he said. "Undercover, surveillance work, gathering every last bit of information that I can."
"The Roman?" Alfred read.
"Carmine Falcone, head of the Falcone crime family and the biggest crime lord in Gotham," Bruce explained. He owns it all, drugs, weapons, prostitution, laundering, racketeering. He has everyone in his pocket and is virtually untouchable. But Falcone's second," he paused as he selected an image on the screen. "Salvatore Maroni." Alfred leaned in closer, inspecting the mugshot of a grim faced man. His eyes were submerged in dark circles and heavily lidded. His snarl revealed yellowed, gapped teeth. "Maroni is Carmine's right hand man and prospective successor after the death of Falcone's sun, Alberto."
"Do you believe he had anything to do with it?" Alfred inquired, suddenly interested.
"It fits his M.O. I've found that he notably sees to Falcone's shadiest operations. He isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Maroni is as ambitious as he is impatient. It won't be long before he forces Carmine out himself."
"Wont that leave only one target then?" Alfred asked. Bruce shook his head, already pulling up a second image on his computer.
"No. There's someone else; someone ten times as greedy as Falcone and as dangerous as Maroni. He's known as 'Black Mask'." The surveillance camera's quality was less than pristine but the image was clear enough. In the midst of a bank lobby, a masked figure dressed in a fine pinstripe black suit with a white coat and hat held an assault rifle up against his shoulder.
"Who is he?" Alfred asked with intrigue. Bruce again shook his head as he leaned back in his chair and folded his bulking arms, his sharp determined stare fixed on the image.
"No one knows. But I'm going to find out."