Chapter 3

May 18, 2010:

"Another new suit design, sir?" Alfred made his way down the staircase, pausing slightly at the row of cases near the bottom. Bruce stood poring over new designs and blueprints, yet more calculations rushing across the computer screen.

"Clark has a new one."

Alfred was not satisfied with this flippant response. "I know you've always been competitive, sir, but surely that's not the reason. I could easily come up with a new colour scheme for your nightly apparel."

"You saw the amount of technology rushing in. We're almost experiencing a new technological revolution. Today I apprehended thugs carrying off a shipment of guns with plasma ray functions and then some. Tomorrow, what will it be, anti-matter mines? The hovercrafts being used to rebuild Coast City, perhaps necessary to delve down those deep fissures running through that land, they are surely going to be commonplace in a few decades. It's all a matter of time, Alfred, all this Neo-city business. I've got to be ready for it."

"With most of Gotham's more colourful criminals locked up or... gone-"

"Yet another void has occurred within the underworld, waiting to be filled. The fight goes on." Trafficking, loan sharks, protection money, all back in full force with corporations rising from the ashes of last year. He might have crippled the mob bosses years ago, but the new waves of immigration from the eastern shores brought new troubles. Triads and secret societies had begun infiltrating the streets and cities. Shining new colossal towers hid them behind the desks of dog-eat-dog business men willing to sacrifice their company's integrity to get as much of the pie left free for all in the wake of the Near Apocalypse. Corporate corruption in the highest degree was bound to envelope Gotham before long, and even Wayne-Enterprises would not be able to stop it. And this time, big money and big tech meant even the lower-rung grunts were more fearless and unstoppable. The long nights wouldn't end.

"Surely, Master Bruce, you don't expect to carry on indefinitely? I would've thought Master Dick would be happy to-"

"Richard Grayson has gone to Bludhaven to be his own man. He left five years ago. We should not expect him to return." Bruce looked up and beyond Alfred's shoulder to the glass cases on the far end of the wall. 'Besides', he thought to himself, 'he was never meant to be left in the shadows.' His gaze landed on the other costumes continuing down the side of the wall, and his face hardened, recalling the events that transpired two years after Nightwing had made his way to the neighbouring city. A horrible reminder that all he did to those who got close to him was hurt them.

"I did not need help when I first started. I will not need help now." For good measure he added, "I will not discuss this."

"Is this why we have not heard from Miss Gordon in the past few months? What a pity." The clipped tones of the aged butler hung through the answering silence. After placing a bowl of soup on a cleared portion of the table, Alfred turned promptly to go back up the stairs, glancing back towards the younger man. A soft sigh escaped his lips.

Perhaps the cave was too dark, or Alfred's eyes were failing. Perhaps in his old age his footing wasn't as sure over the damp, slippery steps of the cave. He never made it to the top of the staircase that night. As Bruce swung around in his chair at the sound of the first unnatural scrape of heel against stone, and as he propelled himself forward, not quick enough to prevent the sickening crunch that was to follow, a lone bat shrieked into the depths of the cave.

2041:

The shrill screams of the cars speeding along the highway wafted up to Terry McGinnis' ears.

"Quiet night, Terry?"

"Too quiet. Who'd have thunk it." Terry McGinnis' voice crackled over reception as he ducked between two communication towers in Gotham's central sector.

"Don't get complacent. You never know-"

"Yeah, yeah old man. Don't you have a company to run these days... again?" Terry quipped back before Bruce had a chance to complete his sentence. That man was sure one for nagging mode. He increased the throttle on the Batsuit, his shadow cast along the illuminated sides of the buildings of the commercial district. Just days ago he'd been called by the League to help put a stop to Vandal Savage's attempt to take over the nearby Metropolis. Sure, the man was immortal, and if Superman's sigh was anything to go by, more than a constant irritant the past few decades. Still, they hoped the increased alloys and concentrated force field capsules developed by S.T.A.R labs would be able to hold him in the high security prison he was carted off to eventually.

"You know what I wonder sometimes? How all these buildings pop up again so quickly. They smash one, three months later, poof, shiny new building in its place. Expensive isn't it?"

"There is Wayne Enterprises." The gravelly voice of the original Dark Knight held a lightness to it that encouraged Terry to carry on. It wasn't often Bruce Wayne was open to conversation.

"And Foxteca, I know. Been watching the feeds, you're on good terms now. So? You can't mean to own half of America."

"I own enough along this coast. When Talia- when Ra's Al Ghul was destroyed in that blast a few years ago, I made sure to buy out the smaller shadow corporations Talia had control of after the Near Apocalypse. There were many such companies, and I'd been careful to keep tabs on them over the years."

"But how'd you do that with Powers still in control? Wait, don't answer that," Terry said, slapping his forehead, "You're Batman, right? You had little shadow companies of your own."

"Very good, Mister Detective."

"Oh hey don't do that, you'll sound like that ancient freak." Terry gave a slight shudder before continuing, "So those guys in Metropolis... Ai-lat? And Daggett Industries?"

"Ai-lat was the old LexCorp before the Al Ghuls took over. Having bought over multiple enterprises holding shares in the main company, as it were, we've got enough grip on them, though I think Huang Holdings is looking into buying out as much of it as they can." Terry was reminded of the presence of the Chinese founded company as he sped past one of the most prominent buildings in Gotham's skyline, the Mandarin symbol glowing towards the harbour on the eastern coast. They had been one of the first to take advantage of the opportunities rebuilding Gotham had presented in the wake of the Near Apocalypse. Focusing more on the service industry had kept them out of the warpath of Wayne-Powers, but now they seemed to be changing company strategy.

"Daggett?"

"Cadmus."

Oh. Right. "But that's okay, right?"

"Till they start thinking they need to target innocent Metas again."

"Do you ever trust anyone?"

"I have reasons not to trust them."

"You have reasons not to trust Superman."

"Wouldn't you?"

Terry was stumped. The Kryptonite Bruce had in his possession was freaky enough. Rex Stewart had mentioned shortly after the incident with the Starro parasites that according to his mother, Bruce had started carrying it around as 'insurance' pretty early into the Justice League's formation. He'd checked the computer back in the cave that night to find Bruce's many contingency plans against various League members, most prominently that of the founding seven, in case any of them went rogue. It was mind boggling. The man would risk his life again and again for them, yet made sure if there was ever the need to take any of them down, he could. 'And probably would without a second thought,' Terry thought to himself. That second thought had almost cost Terry his life once, and he still didn't know if Superman went ballistic again if he would be able to stop him. Right decisions, hard decisions, all in a day's work.

Gotham truly was quiet that night. A few petty theft and gangs on the streets, but one look at the approaching red symbol and the punks had scattered. Time to head back home. Terry veered around towards Wayne Manor, looking over his shoulder as he did so. It was therefore no surprise that he did not register the invisible object before him till he had crashed fully into it.

"With Bruce having created cloaking devices for your own vehicle, I would've thought you'd be well aware of my presence, Batman." A crescent of machinery and controls appeared, then grew till it formed an oval showing the pilot seat of a jet, a lady seated within it. Her jet black hair flowed down in waves, a golden circlet around her forehead with a red star set in the middle.

"Whoa."