February 4, 1989. Eleven PM, the next day was just an hour away.
After lunch, as planned, Barbara had taken James Jr. to the clinic. At the clinic itself, they were held up due to crowds of junkies wondering why everything hurt after their latest dose, which was why they were only now returning home, currently crossing the Aparo Bridge. Gordon, at that moment, was still on duty in Robinson Park, in the eastern part of Central Gotham.
A bit about the geography of Gotham City. The city was, in fact, three islands, separated by the Gotham River from the mainland to the south and west, spanned by three bridges: the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge in the northwest heading in that direction, the Trigate Bridge in the south between the West and Central districts heading south, and the Vincefiskel Bridge in the southeast, also heading south.
There were three islands in total. East, Central, and West.
First was the East island, the first to be settled and where Gotham City originated. Though its history was the richest among the islands, it seemed like a slum compared to its neighbors. This was due to the times during the industrial era when the Gotham government began developing the city westward en masse, causing the Eastern district to be reshaped into a residential area. But when the West island began developing massively, it lost even that designation. The East island remains, to this day, the most underdeveloped, both in terms of infrastructure (lack of proper schools, colleges, hospitals, decent roads, sidewalks, and environmental quality) and architecture (small five-story buildings whose condition, inside and out, left much to be desired), as well as quality of life (37% of the district's residents are unemployed) and its inhabitants (where one in every one or two people is a junkie). The only positive thing to be known about this place is that the Gotham City Police Department Building is located at its center, and Adams Port is to the north.
Next was the Central island, the most corporately and industrially developed. Its golden age came during the industrial era, and the island long remained packed with factories and plants of all kinds. It was here that absolutely all of Gotham's major corporations were headquartered, including Wayne Enterprises. Although the Central District was the most developed in its time (when the East was a residential area and the West was covered in agrarian society), it never gained much popularity with ordinary residents, all due, of course, to the accumulation of all those environmental problems from the factories. Though after the Great Depression, two-thirds of the factories closed and were either completely dismantled or relocated outside the city, and by the '40s the district was quite habitable, it was mainly people working for those very corporations headquartered there who moved in.
Last was the West island, which was built to all the highest modern standards, and even beyond. It used to be the center of the city's agricultural production, but that was until the turn of the 20th century, when the district began to follow the fate of its Central neighbor, though on a noticeably smaller scale. After the Great Depression, all factories left the city, and in their place first came small five-story buildings, similar to the East Island's, causing a large part of the East island's population to move there during the times. But in the early '50s, when the impact of the Great Depression was almost imperceptible, the island began to be built up with the most modern apartment complexes and high-rises, not corporate ones like in the Central district, but livable ones. It was here that both the most expensive and luxurious apartments and homes on the island were located, as well as all the main places where the wealthy spent their leisure time. Because most of the city's police force was concentrated in the East, its West became a gathering place for all the elites of the criminal world to gather, for which Gotham was sadly famous.
The islands were separated from each other by rivers.
The Sprang River flowed between the West and Central islands, splitting into two streams in the southern half, between which was a small island with a closed psychiatric hospital. The Sprang Bridge spanned its northern part, while in the south, two highways from the West and Central converged into one, that very Trigate Bridge.
The Finger River was between the Central and Eastern islands, formed from Miller Harbor on its northern stretch. Between them, besides a few highways, ran the Aparo Expressway, to the north of Miller Harbor, named for the railway running beneath it. Though the distance between them was noticeably less than between West and Central, so for a moment it could even seem like the Central and East islands were one big landmass.
Because of this, in Gotham, besides the four known directions, there was also a fifth, Center, so.
In Robinson Park, Gordon was thinking about how he regretted allowing his wife to take their son to the hospital alone. At this hour, even far from the squalid South-East End districts, it was still obviously not completely safe. Because of the hunt for Bat-Man, the number of patrolling police officers across the city had noticeably increased over the past few hours.
Captain Branden: "Yeah? We're on our way." Not far away, he heard their supervisor, Captain Branden, talking to someone on the radio.
Captain Branden, giving the order to Gordon and all the cops in the park: "Everyone to your cars! Fire on the Aparo Expressway, possible arson. Everyone, quickly, move!"
Hearing this, Gordon joined his colleagues in the car. On that same bridge right now were his wife and son. The problem was, Gordon had no idea about this, as he could assume they were already home, and even if he knew they were still en route, he had no idea their path led across that very bridge.
Reaching the bridge within two to three minutes—they were lucky the Central District on-ramp was quite close to them—they were stopped by the scene on the bridge. It was littered with cars; after all, Gotham was a city that woke up closer to night, and on top of that, there was real chaos on the bridge, making driving impossible and forcing the cops to abandon their cars and continue on foot. Roughly in the center of the bridge, a wall of fire was visible, slowly turning into a field of flames that divided the bridge into two parts. Only by getting closer could you make out the figure of a man flying through the sky, which from a distance could be mistaken for an unusually tall tongue of flame due to the visible yellow parts on its body. He wore something like a jetpack, which also seemed to run on fire, and in his hand was a flamethrower, roughly standard-sized, but judging by its effect on the bridge, it was many times more powerful than it appeared.
In the middle of the bridge was a huge gap, with the remains of someone's cars in the water below, whose gasoline, mixing with the fire, had created this hole. Although the bridge still held due to the fortunate placement of its support beams, the asphalt on the bridge noticeably crumbled into the water under the weight of the vehicles. Almost all the drivers were essentially trapped; their cars couldn't be moved away from the gap, and getting out and walking was nearly impossible due to the raging flames and smoke, which more resembled fog. The police still had to find a way through the fire; some cops helped people get out of their cars and walk to a place where neither fire nor smoke could reach them, while others continued toward the epicenter of the flames, simultaneously firing at the flying figure on the bridge, though this was futile due to the latter's mobility.
Gordon was among the latter, getting closer and closer to the source of the fire. But it only took a second for him to join the ranks of the former. The moment his squad descended onto the railway passing under the bridge—where there was noticeably less fire and the smoke didn't reach due to the wind, offering a better view, but the risk of collapse for both the railway and the bridge above them was still great—the first thing Gordon saw on the other side of the bridge was a blue Daewoo Nexia with the license plate W17-SLU, with a woman and a newborn baby inside.
Of course, Gordon's first instinct was to get to the other side by any means necessary, but that was obviously impossible under the current exposed conditions, as a couple more chunks of asphalt crumbling near him clearly indicated. Of course, that wouldn't have stopped him, but seeing how the railway tracks themselves were barely supporting his weight, and hearing his colleagues shouting his name, Gordon understood he had no choice at the moment.
When almost all the cops who were at the scene were now a bit further along the railway tracks, listening to instructions from Captain Branden on the next steps, Gordon had just now moved out of his wife's line of sight and was heading to join the others. But he had only managed about three more steps when he felt what he least expected—an incredibly strong, almost superhuman, choking grip from behind on his neck. He only needed to see the black cape behind the legs he glimpsed behind him to understand who it was, which became even clearer upon hearing the deep, low, slightly hoarse, and measured voice behind him.
Bat-Man: "Be aware, I don't like hurting cops, but for you, I'll make an exception."
James Gordon, slightly gasping from the grip: "Wha-what do you want?"
Bat-Man: "Take down the lookout."
James Gordon: "Lo-lookout? I-I don't understand what you're talking about."
Bat-Man: "Don't play dumb. Now you tell me everything about Captain Branden's plan."
James Gordon: "Listen! I-I really don't know what you mean. I know nothing about it."
Bat-Man: "You were ordered to stand watch so Captain Branden could lay out his plan on capturing me. I overheard only the last few words. Clear enough to remember?"
James Gordon: "I-I don't know anything about that. Truly, nothing! I swear to God!"
Bat-Man: "God won't hear you, He's not interested in helping you."
James Gordon: "I swear to you, I really know nothing."
Bat-Man: "You're lying. You're scared of me."
James Gordon: "L-l-listen, there on the bridge, on the other side… a blue Nexia, W17-SLU. My wife and son are in that car. Help them, I beg you, I'm scared for them."
Bat-Man: "I'll help them. Because they're in danger, not because you told me to."
James Gordon: "I-I don't care. Just so long as they're safe. And I swear to you, I know nothing about Captain Branden's plan. I'm not lying, honestly!" After which he feels the pressure on his neck ease, and within a second, he sees the Bat-man already at the edge of the gap, having landed with his grapple, then tries to catch his breath. "I'm not lying to you, I swear."
Bat-Man: "Doesn't matter to me, if you yourself don't believe your own lie."
James Gordon: "And thank you for your mercy."
Bat-Man: "It wasn't one. I just heard your friends coming."
The second he says it, the other cops rushed through the closed door into Gordon and the Bat-Man location, their guns prepared, but to their surprise, and to Gordon's too, the Bat-Man seemed to disappear in the thin air. Watching the scene in front of him, Gordon's thoughts, even if for a second, switched from his family's safety - maybe this Bat-Man wasn't their enemy.
As soon as the cops realized the Bat-Man was already on the bridge surface, the first order Captain Branden gave his squad was to retreat there. To avoid arousing suspicion, Gordon was forced to follow his colleagues. Back on the bridge, the target of their fire also shifted from the flying figure with the flamethrower to the Bat-Man.
Total chaos reigned on the bridge in every sense of the word—the bridge was cut into two parts, both engulfed in fire and smoke, and the police were firing at two targets simultaneously, who weren't just staring at each other either.
Realizing he might not get another chance, taking advantage of the pandemonium, Gordon approached Captain Branden from behind, who was standing some distance from the rest of his squad, grabbed him in a chokehold, and they both fell to the ground. With the noise of explosions, gunfire, and screams, they couldn't be heard at all, especially from that distance.
Captain Branden, slightly panting from the hold: "Gordon, have you lost your goddamn mind!"
James Gordon, slightly panting too, but from the exertion: "Why… why aren't you told me about you're here for the Bat-Man?"
Captain Branden: "What, you want in on the action too? Listen, let me go, and you'll get a cut!"
James Gordon: "Yeah, like I'd believe you."
Seeing words wouldn't work, Branden elbows Gordon hard in the side a couple of times, forcing him to lose his grip. While Branden was still getting up from the ground and drawing his pistol, Gordon had already managed to scramble behind the nearest car, so Branden's two shots hit nothing.
Gordon also drew his pistol, though he knew his opponent currently had the advantage.
Captain Branden, slowly approaching the car Gordon was hiding behind: "Listen, we still have a chance to work this out."
James Gordon, from behind the car: "You understand I'll turn you in to Commissioner Grogan?"
Captain Branden: "Yeah, I know. You know I'll have to kill you if you refuse."
James Gordon: "And what makes you so sure you won't kill me even if I agree?"
Captain Branden: "I don't know; it's your call."
By that time, Branden was almost right next to the car Gordon was hiding behind the trunk of. He decides to attack anyway, but circling the car from the hood, he sees no one there. Not a second passes before Gordon, who had managed to crawl and hide behind the car's rear bumper, emerges from cover and fires one precise shot into the upper left side of Branden's chest. In the same instant, Captain Branden's body collapsed to the ground, the sound of his fall lost in the bridge's chaos. Gordon didn't even approach the body, merely taking the pistol that had fallen from his hand.
Meanwhile, at the edge of the bridge's gap, the Bat-Man was trying to line up the right angle to throw one of his bat-shaped throwing weapons. His target was the jetpack on the back of the yellow-and-black figure with the flamethrower. Understanding the police were already firing at him, he couldn't risk descending to ground level and stayed on the bridge's high support beams.
The firebug perfectly understood the Bat-Man's plan, so his goal now was to move the fight to the ground immediately. His best idea was to fly to the edge of the bridge on the other side of the gap, where there was still a crowd of cars with drivers trapped inside by fire and smoke, and unleash another fiery blast at the vehicles.
Seizing the moment when the firebug turned his back to him, the Bat-Man makes one, precise throw of his throwing weapon, and it hits its mark, striking the right wing of the firebug's jetpack. While the hit wasn't enough to make him lose altitude, his equilibrium and balance in the air were noticeably weakened.
The Bat-Man immediately drew a second throwing weapon to similarly disable the left wing, but he was stopped by the visible situation of the cars ahead of him. Knowing his opponent was weakened, the Bat-Man, using a single grapple-assisted jump, was now on the other side of the bridge gap. He still held the same throwing weapon he hadn't thrown yet, but it took him only a second to find another use for it.
Although the police were still trying to hit him from the other half of the gap, the fire, smoke, and the Bat-Man's own speed made it literally impossible. He was slicing open car roofs with the blade of the throwing weapon, then with one grip pulled all the people inside the vehicles and carried them a few dozen meters away, where there was no more fire (he extinguished what remained with his cape) and the smoke was almost imperceptible. Of course, those inside that blue Nexia were also among the people rescued.
Knowing nothing was holding him back now, the Bat-Man drew his grapple, stood on the nearest support beam of the bridge, and fired one precise shot at the same spot his throwing weapon had hit—the right wing of the firebug's jetpack. Since his grapple line was fire-resistant, and with only one of the jetpack's two engines working, limiting its thrust, the Bat-Man applied a considerable amount of raw strength to pull the firebug down to the ground. To maximize his effort, the Bat-Man descended from the beam to the ground and applied raw force once more, causing the firebug, who was already struggling to stay airborne, to crash onto the bridge on the other side of the gap. He landed on his stomach; his mask with the attached gas canister was knocked off his face by the impact. A second later, he felt someone's very strong grip stomp down on his left hand, where the jetpack's control button was. Seeing the firebug's face under the mask—the same firefighter he'd saved a couple of days ago—the Bat-Man merely uttered "pity" without a trace of sympathy.
While the Bat-Man stood on the ground, the cops on the bridge surrounded him in a semicircle, aiming their pistols at him (Gordon wasn't among them). the Bat-Man didn't say a word to them, even though they clearly intended to take him to the station or, if necessary, open fire. Instead of words, the Bat-Man merely did a backflip and then a jump into the air, dodging the police bullets, then descended under the bridge to the railway. Even when the cops approached the edge of the gap to see where he'd gone, they saw he had vanished without a trace, as if he'd never been there.
Seeing his chance, Lynns, who believed the Bat-Man was surely a corpse by now (obviously, the smoke and dizziness from the jetpack had seriously clouded his mind at that moment), and with all the cops behind him, restarted his jetpack and, before the cops could open fire while he was still vulnerable, flew under the bridge and grabbed something resembling a horned human head before it could fall into the water.
Even with only one working engine, Lynns still managed to escape police pursuit and reach his destination. There, as last time, he allowed himself to be searched, then placed the bag with the goods on the table.
Garfield Lynns: "You can sleep in peace now."
Carmine Falcone, barely glancing at the bag: "Still came for the reward."
Garfield Lynns, insisting: "How about you give me my one and a half million before we part ways."
Carmine Falcone: "Watch your tone. Don't like it when some two-bit punk raises it in my direction."
Garfield Lynns: "Give me the money, and another one of your problems will disap—" Before he could finish, two bullets entered the back of his head. Behind him stood two of Falcone's bodyguards, who had only been waiting for his silent signal.
Carmine Falcone, looking at Lynns's corpse from across the table without even getting up from his chair: "Tell anyone you meet over there—if Jesse James asked you to take out the trash, doesn't mean you can start giving him orders now."
Falcone took out the contents of the bag Lynns had brought him, seeing inside only an obvious fake the Bat-Man head. In Lynns's smoke-fogged, jetpack-addled vision on the bridge, it had seemed quite real to him. Falcone merely tossed the fake to one of his nearby henchmen.
Carmine Falcone: "Clean this up. Dump the body and this crap. Keep the thing on his back; I have a couple of fellows who could make use of it." He says, sitting back down at his desk.
By around 7:30 AM, that police squad was still on the bridge, helping clear the aftermath of the night and examining the crime scene. By then, they had found Captain Branden's body, which was completely charred and lying on the railroad tracks under the bridge—surprising Gordon, as he'd shot him on the bridge, not under it, though he was already anticipating the consequences of killing his colleague. Gordon had also managed to see his wife and son again. Though he most wanted to leave with them for home on the bus, due to the need to stay at the crime scene, he was only allowed to walk them to the bus stop. Looking at the scene before him, Gordon didn't much want to dwell on it and merely took a cigarette from his winter coat, lit it in his mouth, leaned on the bridge railing a bit away from his colleagues, and waited for sunrise.
Bat-Man: "You killed Captain Branden."
That voice, coming from a lamppost near him, was the last thing he expected to hear at that moment.
James Gordon: "How do you know?" Gordon knew trying to lie that it wasn't him was pointless.
Bat-Man: "The support beams here give a good view."
James Gordon: "Well, what's done is done."
Bat-Man: "You're lucky. The bullet went clean through."
James Gordon, after a slight pause: "So it's you took him under the bridge and burned him?"
Bat-Man: "Didn't burn him. Just dropped him into the last fire. They have no evidence it was specifically you who killed him now. All the cops use the same caliber, the bullet hole in his body could have been made by any of your friends."
James Gordon: "Thanks for that. And for saving my family too. Sorry that I have nothing to repay you with."
Bat-Man: "I have nothing to ask from you in return. You won't give me what I needed anyway."
James Gordon: "Thanks for that too." A slight pause followed. "Listen, how did you know Captain Branden was here for your head?"
Bat-Man: "I heard him briefing the other cops on what to do when I showed up."
James Gordon, accepting this: "I see."
Bat-Man: "And I also monitored the police radio traffic from the moment you were first dispatched to the bridge. He never received a fire call from dispatch; he came here on his own. Plus, only people from his squad were on the bridge. His target was me from the start."
James Gordon: "And why do you think?"
Bat-Man: "To turn me down for Falcone's money. The firebug was trying to do the same."
James Gordon: "Hmm. That's… kind of sad, you know… Listen, what should I call you? Do you have a name?"
Bat-Man: "Those like me have no name. Only a byname to be known among people."
James Gordon: "Then I'll keep calling you Bat-Man, okay?"
Bat-Man: "Call me whatever you like. It's not important to me."
James Gordon: "Fair enough." He says, continuing to smoke his cigarette, leaning on the bridge railing, facing the water.
By then, the sun was beginning to rise bit by bit. Though the sunrise was barely visible, blocked by the buildings, since the bridge ran east-west, the angle still allowed a glimpse of the shining sun's edge over the small houses of the East Island.
James Gordon: "Listen, maybe you, ah, I don't know, need a lift, or…?" He turns again toward the lamppost, but no trace of his interlocutor remained.
James Gordon: "First rays of light appear, and the bat returns to its cave." Gordon said to no one, chuckling slightly into himself.
At that moment, despite the tobacco noticeably dulling his thoughts, something was still on his mind, starting from the very moment he had approached Gotham on the train.
Back then, he did ask himself—what sin had he committed to end up in this hell called Gotham? And maybe now he understood something else. Is sin really the only reason a person can end up in hell? Maybe there's another reason? Like, to help an angel already there turn that hell into a better place?
February 5, 1989. Already 1:26 PM on the clock.
This morning, just like five days ago, all the news and papers were blaring about how Bat-Man had once again turned the night upside down. But if five days ago that news caused near chaos, this time it was more like acceptance.
In the manor twelve miles west of Gotham, Bruce had returned just a couple of minutes ago and therefore hadn't yet had time to read the morning paper.
Alfred Pennyworth: "Read the morning paper yet? You won't believe it, Bat-Man is on the front page, and Bruce Wayne is only on the sixth."
Bruce Wayne: "I'm not interested in fame, Alfred, we've discussed this."
Alfred Pennyworth: "For a man who landed in the paper with the headline 'Billionaire Corporate Raider Rigging Votes for Company Presidency,' you're not trying very hard to avoid fame. And besides, it's illegal."
Bruce Wayne: "Alfred, everything we've been doing in this city for over a week now is illegal."
Alfred Pennyworth: "Don't generalize, Master Bruce."
Bruce Wayne: "And besides, Earle has no proof it was me. The votes are anonymous, and anyone who wanted to could have rigged them for me. Maybe all the employees of Wayne Enterprises suddenly decided to vote for me."
Alfred Pennyworth: "Well, I suppose that means a double celebration today. We should mark the occasion. You know, your father had a very good friend he never got a chance to introduce you to." By 'friend,' Alfred meant the bottle of thirty-year-old red wine he'd preemptively hidden behind the side table.
Bruce Wayne: "Red?"
Alfred Pennyworth: "Well but we didn't happen to have any black wine in the cellar. Was out of your father's tastes." He then pours the wine into one of the three glasses on a tray on the side table next to Bruce's chair.
Bruce Wayne: "If it was me who suggested we celebrate like this, you'd be the first one grumbling that my father wouldn't have approved."
Alfred Pennyworth: "Quite the contrary, Master Bruce. Your father would have approved," he says, opening the bottle.
Bruce Wayne: "And why didn't we celebrate five days ago when Bat-Man was also in the papers?"
Alfred Pennyworth: "No one celebrates the start of a war, Master Bruce, only its end."
Bruce Wayne: "Wrong there, Alfred. The war started long before we both were here, and neither of us will be there to see its end."
Alfred Pennyworth: "Then let's at least celebrate the end of a battle." He pours wine into a glass for Bruce.
Bruce Wayne: "Hardly call it was even a battle. Closer to a bar fight." He then looks at his filled glass. "Don't stay still, Alfred, pour one for yourself too."
Alfred Pennyworth: "Hmm, appreciate it." He said as if he knew Bruce would say exactly that, and then pours himself a glass of wine as well.
Bruce had already taken his glass and brought it to his lips, but before taking the first sip, he paused.
Bruce Wayne: "Listen, what are we drinking to? Any ideas for the toast?"
Alfred Pennyworth, thinking for a moment: "For… for… for the success and well-being of the Wayne family in all their endeavors."
Bruce Wayne, not much impressed by Alfred's toast: "Fine, that'll do." They then clink glasses and both take the first sip of wine.
Bruce then gets up from the chair and simply starts walking around the room, as he generally doesn't like sitting in one place. Alfred remained standing by the side table next to the chair Bruce had just vacated. Both of them were sipping the contents of their glasses very slowly all the while.
Alfred Pennyworth: "So. Was that firefly on the bridge the same fireman you saved five days ago?"
Bruce Wayne: "Firefly?"
Alfred Pennyworth: "That's what they're calling the firebug in the papers."
Bruce Wayne: "He was a man who lived his whole life in hell, and then got a chance to get out."
Alfred Pennyworth: "Yes, he made rather poor use of your chance."
Bruce Wayne: "I gave him a second chance at life when I saved him that day, the city was ready to take him even then. It was him who chose how to use it."
Alfred Pennyworth, lightly teasing Bruce: "Glad you understand him."
Bruce Wayne: "I just get it what he wanted and why. That doesn't mean I pity him."
Alfred Pennyworth, still lightly teasing: "Alright, your alibi is accepted. And I've read about the fake Batman head in the news. Surprised it was with you that moment."
Bruce Wayne: "I made it up for police right after that ambush. Need to be sure on contingencies. Though I'm not glad how its usage turned out."
Alfred Pennyworth: "Yeah, you would better use it against police then some fellow that threatened to harm plenty of Gotham's people." He says, taking another sip. "And what about that Lieutenant Gordon? I heard you saved his family, it was in the paper."
Bruce Wayne: "His family was among those caught in danger on the bridge, that's all. I would have saved them without his asking. Though you know, Alfred. He's different from the other cops."
Alfred Pennyworth: "I'm almost afraid to hear now why."
Bruce Wayne: "I watched over his bio back when they put him in charge of hunting me down. He moved here from Chicago just over a week ago. He's not a Gotham cop, not one of them."
Alfred Pennyworth: "I think you should welcome him him to a bar sometime later then."
Bruce Wayne: "I can't speak about bars for sure, but I sure I can say that he's a cop not afraid to be trusted. He was the only one involved in the hunt for me because of the law, not because of money."
Alfred Pennyworth: "Let's hope it stays that way."
Bruce Wayne: "Even if it doesn't, I won't be too upset. The police's stance in my work doesn't matter to me much."
Alfred Pennyworth: "Unless that 'police' is Lieutenant Gordon."
Bruce just gave Alfred an unimpressed look, then took another sip of his wine. After that, he acted as if he suddenly remembered something.
Bruce Wayne: "Damn, completely forgot. Need to tell Lucius know he's returning to the company. Do you think should I callor write him?"
Before Alfred could answer, Bruce had already opened the drawer of the table by the sofa in the room and saw the last thing he expected to find there—an envelope with a letter, signed 'Alfred Pennyworth,' addressed to 'Bruce Wayne.'
Alfred did nothing to stop Bruce from opening the letter and merely watched as Bruce read its contents.
"Dear Master Bruce. It is with regret that I must inform you of my decision to leave the service of the Wayne household after twenty-two years. The reason is your… backyard hobbies, or more precisely, the reasons behind your hobbies. My decision became final when you stated your intention to go to the South-East End of Gotham. I believe your goals, however you might try to dress them up, will only harm the reputation of the Wayne household, particularly your father's. I do not wish to offend you, nor to decide for you, but you must understand what I mean, Master Bruce. I can only wish you all the best in your new endeavors and, I hope, in your subsequent successes in them."
After that, Bruce puts the letter back in the envelope, then points at it.
Bruce Wayne: "And what's this?"
Alfred Pennyworth, after a pause: "I wrote that letter the same night you first went on what you called your 'patrol,' even before the suit."
Bruce Wayne, first glancing at the letter, then at Alfred: "Alfred, you know you're not a prisoner here. You're free to leave at any time."
Alfred Pennyworth: "When I was going to give it to you, I saw you returning home with a knife in your side. That's when I realized what could happen to you in my absence."
Bruce Wayne: "So you just didn't want the guilt if something happened to me?"
Alfred Pennyworth: "Know that I still don't approve of your nocturnal outings, Master Bruce. But I can't fail your father like that, by not being there for his son when needed."
Bruce Wayne, after a slight pause, then puts the letter back in the drawer: "You know, you'll need to take a vacation sometime."
Alfred Pennyworth: "Hmm, only after you, Master Bruce."
That same expression appears on Bruce's face as the moment he first descended into the cave beneath the house. As if it were a smile, but it was only in Bruce's head, and only he knew about. After that, he decides to change the tone.
Bruce Wayne: "Alright, get ready. We're going shopping."
Alfred Pennyworth: "As if we're short on groceries."
Bruce Wayne: "We're going to a furniture one. Need to start setting up the cave under the house with stuff."
Alfred Pennyworth: "So the bat cave has been waiting long enough for a makeover."
Bruce Wayne: "Don't call it that, Alfred, we're not in a childish's comics."