I do not own Batman/Bruce Wayne, Dr. Leslie Thomkins, Lucius Fox, Alfred Pennyworth or any other DC characters, which might show up in this chapter, nor do I own Gotham City. Please enjoy for free. :)

Gotham South Side Free Clinic: Two Years After the Death of the Waynes

Leslie strode out to the waiting room her patient at her side and after glancing at him gestured to a chair near the receptionist desk. He sat there. The receptionist handed the young man a glass before picking up the receiver of a phone on her desk. She then looked over to where two bunches of humanity seemed to be crushing together to avoid a chair near a fan and the water cooler. In it did indeed sit a man who appeared homeless with ragged, worn dusty clothing. Her nurse Joseph Briant knelt in front of him looking up into the man's face while asking him questions. Bruce was holding a wet folded up paper towel on the man's head and filling a tiny cup from the recently refilled water-cooler. Leslie sighed and walked over.

Joseph looked up. "Body temp, still elevated, though we got it under 100, dry skin, slowed reaction time."

Leslie nodded down to him. "Do we have a name for this new patient?"

The man himself mumbled. "John Jones."

Leslie blinked and glanced at Joseph who shrugged. She murmured, "Uh-huh ..." Then she began her own examination. "How much did you drink of water and alcohol today?"

"I ... don't think I've had either today. I don't drink alcohol ..."

As Leslie looked up and raised an eyebrow at the man, her godson interrupted in a grim tone for a ten-year-old. "Someone else 'poured' it on him."

Leslie raised both eyebrows at her godson. Then Joseph spoke. "His clothing does smell more of it than his breath."

Leslie nodded in surrender of the point before saying, "What's your excuse for not drinking any water on a day like today especially if you're going to spend it outside?"

"I've ... been rather down lately ..."

Leslie sighed, then she straightened and said "Let's get you to a cool back room and give you what my last patient's having to re-hydrate you and give your body whatever else it lost while you were still sweating. Rest now, we'll check in on you again later. Can you see to all this, Joseph?"

Joseph nodded and helped the man up. As he escorted him away, the man looked back over his shoulder at Bruce. Leslie then cast her own gaze upon her godson, but hers was a glare. Bruce pursed his lips, but met her gaze. "Bruce, you left the clinic?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Without telling anyone?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Why?"

"I didn't think this place needed me."

"Uh-huh, well, in that case ..." She pointed to the men's room. "That place needs a good cleaning. Get to it."

Bruce grimaced, but then hung his head and muttered. "Yes ma'am."

"And you'll explain yourself to Alfred when he comes out get you as well."

"Yes, ma'am."

Highly Restricted Area in the Basement of Wayne Tower: Eleven Years after the Death of the Waynes

Bruce drove the damaged Batmobile into a highly restricted area of the basement of Wayne Tower. As he pulled into the light Lucius Fox, standing by, whistled. As the Caped Crusader got out, his old friend and fellow inventor asked, "What ammunition do you think did this?"

After Batman gave a few possibilities, Lucius whistled. "She looks pretty good considering."

"She does …"

"We both deserve to be proud of ourselves. Best I still give her a full diagnostic before you take her out again, though. Go get into her twin for now."

Batman nodded and walked past his fellow engineer toward the other vehicle parked in the room and exact replica. He believed in having backups, so you didn't have to leave a job unfinished.

Gotham South Side Free Clinic: Two Years After the Death of the Waynes

"Is the bathroom clean?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Alfred will look it over later."

"I know. Where's John?"

Leslie turned and blinked at him. "He's in the back. I just checked on him. He seems to be recovering well.

"Can Alfred and I take him home with us?"

Leslie's eyes flew open. "There are a dozen homeless shelters closer and better equipped to help him than Wayne Manor is Bruce."

"If he wanted to be 'in' a shelter, he would be. If he's afraid to be indoors, at least there are sprinklers on my lawn to cool him off."

"I don't think Alfred …"

"Can I just ask him? You didn't see any signs of drug use or alcoholism when you examined John, did you?"

"No, but I have yet to do a psychiatric examination."

"Could you?"

"Bruce ..."

"Alfred can keep me safe from him at home if things go badly. Who's going to keep John safe on the streets?"

Leslie put the heel of her hand to her forehead and sighed again. "I'll give him the psychiatric examination, and then we can 'both' talk to Alfred."

Office of the head of the South Side Cartel: Eleven Years After Waynes' Deaths

"Tell me why we didn't get him at the dump again, Zeke." The boss of the South Side Cartel chomped the end of his cigarette while glaring at the highest appointed member of the group cowering before him. They were in charge of 'enforcement' over his more legit businesses. He'd had high hopes when informed their man at the Landfill let them know the Bat was there. That optimism hadn't lasted long.

Zeke held up placating hands. "Well, Bat had already put the dead girl Samson was burying in his car …'"

The boss' head jerked up and eyes widened. "One of Samson's remaining girls is dead?"

Jake and Zeke looked to each other and then back to their boss. Zeke answered again. "Uh, yeah?"

The boss growled, removed the cigarette from his mouth, and put the heel of his hand to his forehead. "With the Bat protecting them, too many are getting big heads. Some of them are asking clients to give them rides to places and then not showing back up to work."

Marco Muscle's eyes widened. He'd given his favorite girl such a ride that weekend and not seen her since. He started sweating as he asked, "Where are they going?"

The boss glared at him. "To the bus stops idiot! From there they get rides out of Gotham with their rent money. I don't care what happens after that! They're leaving our town, so 'we' can't make another dime off them!"

"Do you need extra help stopping them boss?" As the first to be attacked by the Bat and failure to keep him back, Jake was eager to put in extra work.

The boss shook his head. "Bats knows the bus schedules and apparently watches em at night. I've sent men to catch and bring back girls trying to get away. He stops the men to let the girls go. That's where a lot of our recruiters work too. He's interfered in that as well. It's gotten so I just have men work there during the day. The girls know that, so now they strut around at night. That's why I told Russo to get one big apartment building close enough to the clubs ready to house them "all." "And" I got a few buses being fixed up to drop em off there. We'll have big fellows like 'you' Marco escort them out, on, off, and in again from work to home and bring em whatever they need. And if the Bat tries to interfere, we shoot him. At least that kept him down a for a little while 'once!' But don't bother shooting at his car. A couple guys said bullets bouncing off grazed em and someone just called to say he's still driving it around!"

A Bus Stop of Gotham City's South Side: Eleven Years After the Death of the Waynes

A young black woman with an hourglass figure and a tall thin-faced man in a hat and trench coat stepped off the bus onto the sidewalk. A man leaning against the wall of the pawn shop raised and turned his head to watch the woman cross the street. He noticed she was heading to a diner with a "help wanted" sign in its window. He got in her way and held up a hand. "Wait a minute!" He whistled looking her up and down. "If you want work, I got an offer for ya!"

He held a card out to her. The woman glanced at it. Her eyes widened. She took it. "This starting salary right?"

"Sure is."

The woman pressed her lips together. "I don't know … I don't really … I'm not familiar with working in clubs."

The young man with dark eyes and hair, as well as a roguish smile with a dimpled chin and cheeks shrugged. "It's not that hard, beautiful …"

The shadow of the man who'd stepped off the bus with her covered her and the younger man with the just risen sun behind him. His deep, grim voice seemed to reverberate through them both as well. "At first perhaps … but the money gets less, the conditions get worse, and you are not allowed to leave."

The woman threw the card at the young man's feet, turned, and walked toward and then into the diner. The young man scowled as the stranger a foot taller, but obviously older with his wrinkles and mostly gray hair walked away. He followed and shoved him up against an alley wall.

The tall man went mostly limp and stared back into the furious face growling up at him. The young man's hand dove into the pocket of his jacket. It came out with a switchblade he flicked open and held up to the new arrival's face. "You'll pay what she didn't make for us in blood old man!"

The wrinkled face lifted an eyebrow. "Indeed?" The eyes in the wrinkled face became two red glowing orbs.

The young man's eyes went blank. The rest of his face became slack. The hand fell to his side and then the knife dropped from its limp fingers.

The tall figure reached up to grab hold of the collar of the young man's jacket as he slumped completely into a faint. The deep-voiced stranger picked up the knife, flicked the blade back inside, put it back in the pocket, and gently laid the man atop of a few garbage bags before stepping back out onto the sidewalk and continuing on his way.

What do you think now?

God bless

ScribeofHeroes