Chapter 9
February seemed to speed by in Wayne Manor. There was hardly a moment of the twenty-four hour day that either Bruce or Alfred wasn't busy at work. In the entire month that he had settled back into his family home, Bruce hardly ever left the workstations established in the caves below ground. Alfred, on the other hand, had become his master's errand runner. Bruce had tirelessly ordered from foreign suppliers all the components he found necessary for the equipment he would construct himself. It was Alfred's job to meet the deliveries in various locations spread throughout Gotham, nothing was ever sent directly to Wayne Manor.
In the first three weeks, Alfred had watched as the empty spaces of the second landing in the cave was filled. Situated off to the left, opposite the still inoperable computer system, were worktables cluttered with building components, encircled by mobile bulletin boards displaying blueprints and schematic readouts, all watermarked with the Wayne Enterprise logo.
The table set along the railing of the landing, adjacent to the walkway displayed equipment that Bruce had dubbed as 'field worthy.' Among them were smoke pellets, shurikens, binoculars, and an assortment of lock picks, tranquilizer darts and a few other items that Alfred had never before seen the likes of.
Along the back of the cave wall, metal tables were lined up, displaying an array of outfits, mostly rugged street clothes and fake wigs and beard prosthetics, all except for one table. Alfred was both puzzled and intrigued once he finally took a closer look at what his master had worn the night he returned to Wayne Manor. The outfit was all black and had an old-world handmade style. The torso of the tunic was made of a hardened leather that was also applied for padding on the elbows and knees of the outfit. The collar was wide and extended to cover the mandible of the wearer and a sturdy, leather hood hung on the back of the tunic's shoulders. For some time, Bruce donned this old-world outfit every night that he left the cave but after one of Lucius Fox's personal deliveries, Bruce retired the outfit indefinitely. Alfred pulled a on the silver chain of his uncle's pocket watch and held it in his palm. Four thirty-seven AM, his master was due back any minute. He stood eagerly by one of the worktables, a medical kit already laid out and ready. Only three times has Bruce returned requiring stitching from what Alfred recognized as knife wounds. Thankfully, he hadn't been shot again since the night he returned. It had been years since Alfred had treated a gunshot wound and that was what scared him, what if he can't save Bruce the next time? As Alfred shuttered, forcing himself to dispel these thoughts from his mind, a the roar of the waterfall met a new contender. Cut into the back wall of the cave, a long, wide tunnel gaped open in the darkness. Alfred stood mere yards away from the cavernous mouth as a the rumbling of a Vincent Black Knight loomed closer and closer. The beam of the headlight suddenly appeared on the cave floor before the motorcycle pulled to an abrupt stop in the middle of the landing. The rider killed the engine with a turn of the key in the dash and swung off the saddle after kicking out the stand. Bruce removed his helmet and threw it to the ground. He was dressed head to toe in black. The suit was a flexible Kevlar fiber weave with extra hardened padding on the knees and elbows much like what he previously had worn. The flat black motorcycle boots worn up to his shins were flexible yet sturdy Over the suit provided by Lucius Fox, Bruce wore a black leather jacket. Over his face, he was a simple ski mask with only a slit opening for his eyes. His gaze was lethally sharp and the contours of his face were that of a scowl.
"I trust your outing was, successful, sir?" Alfred said. Bruce wrenched the mask from his face, revealing his venomous expression.
"Frustrating," he replied through grit teeth. Alfred watched with concern as Bruce made his way to the computer system with heavy steps.
"Seems you made it through the night unscathed," Alfred observed lightly as he followed close behind.
"It's working, Alfred. I can do this, I have the tools, the skill, the edge," he said as he peeled off the leather jacket and tossed it on the seat. He paused and unsecured the black utility belt from his waist, laying it over the seat as he stared at the screen. The three faces of Carmine Falcone, Salvatore Maroni and Black Mask stared back as if taunting him. "But I'm not ready yet."
The ride up the brass elevator was silent as Alfred merely stood back and watched. As the elevator stopped at the top inside the dark, brick room, Bruce swung open the gate and pressed on to the metal door and pushed it open, stepping into the shadowy library lit only by the flames of the fireplace. Behind them, the metal door closed on its own. "I finally know what it is, Alfred," Bruce finally said. "Everything is right except for one problem." His eyes drifted up the wall above the fireplace to the portrait of his parents, hands clasped together as they smiled down on the room. Bruce didn't share in their joy, he never did when he looked at their portrait. "They're not afraid of me," he said. "Like I was, petrified with fear. The kind of fear that changes someone." A somber look fell on Alfred's face as once again the man before him was reduced to nothing more than a young boy.
"What you speak of, Master Bruce, is the fear of uncertainty, the unknown, the fear of what waits out there in the dark. Not unlike the shadows of an alley way, waiting for you and your parents." Alfred's words fell heavily in Bruce's ears. Suddenly the image of his father's smiling face was engulfed by a muzzle flash. He could hear his mother's screams as a second gunshot cracked in the brisk night air, then all was silent. Bruce closed his eyes, wrenching his haunted gaze from the portrait. The silence persisted even in the library. Suddenly, he heard a faint scratching flutter. Bruce opened his eyes and directed his gaze to the source.
"Do you hear that?" Bruce asked. With a puzzled look, Alfred turned around following Bruce's focused gaze. Both of them stared at the metal door straining to listen. Alfred frowned as the noise came to him. Bruce reached out to the metal door and cautiously pushed it wide open. A chittering shriek shattered the quiet of the library as a black shape burst free of the darkness. Alfred weaved aside as it darted past him, straight at Bruce. Instinctively, Bruce ducked, bringing his arms over his head. He felt the rush of wind as the shape pulled up over his head, shooting straight to the ceiling. The shrieking grew more and more fierce as the shape rampantly flew overhead. Bruce slowly stood back up, watching the black shape dart in the shadows overhead. "A bat," he observed, inexplicably mesmerized. Suddenly the bat dove back to the floor, soaring past the two bewildered men straight for the blackness it had emerged. For a moment Both Bruce and Alfred stood gawking at the darkness as the shrieking faded away.
"There were never any bats when the cave was being cleared out," Alfred said over the waterfall as the brass elevator ground to a halt.
"Well it had to of come from somewhere, Alfred," Bruce said as he swung open the gate. Bruce continued on down to the platform to the lift which descended to the main landing. He made his way to one of the work tables, collecting a large hand held flood light. Bruce engaged the light, firing a beam of pure illumination clear up the shadowy cave walls. He centered himself, closing his eyes, closing out the world around him, canceling out the roar of the waterfall from his ears as he focused for one sound. With effort, he found it. The chirping shrieks of a bat. It was above him, right above where his Vincent Black Knight was parked. He opened his eyes shining the flood light, catching the faintest glimpse of a black shape darting through the beam. Bruce went back to the computer, gathering his utility belt and securing it around his waist.
"Sir, why are we chasing this, pest?" Alfred asked from the walkway. Reaching around the back, he retrieved the grapple gun, a device with an upside down 'T' like shape. He gripped the handle and aimed the pinpoint targeting laser at the landing above. He pressed the firing stud with his thumb, feeling the recoil as a cable fired from the enclosed, spool. Giving the line a quick tug to ensure it was secure, he activated the high powered tension retracting motor which yanked him from his feet. Bruce flew straight to the top, clambering over the edge and landing in a rough roll. Alfred cringed as he watched from below. "Master Bruce?" he called out.
"I'm fine, Alfred," Bruce responded. The grapple gun was still a new tool for him but each use was getting better. The cable retracted fully into the spool and he stored the grapple back on his belt. Engaging the floodlight again, Bruce panned across the cave wall of the empty landing. A rather large crack remained open like a sideways mouth hung ajar. From inside the pitch darkness, Bruce heard more shrieks and fluttering. He shined the light directly into the crack. As he lingered, peering inside the high-powered floodlight was suddenly blotted out by a mass of black erupting from the opening. The cloud of shrieks and fluttering, leathery wings engulfed Bruce as a torrent of bats seemed to encircle him. This time, he didn't duck or cower away in fear. Bruce just stood there feeling as calm as ever before in the midst of sheer chaos. The cloud dispersed as the bats explored the cave around them, droves of them settled on the ceiling climbing about freely. Surrounded by bats, claiming their new home, Bruce stood alone on the landing, oblivious to the outbursts from his butler below. Fear was what waited in the darkness and the bat was a creature of darkness, the bat owned the night.