Wayne Manor - The Morning After Bane's Attack
The morning light slipped through the gaps in Wayne Manor's curtains, painting strips of gold across Bruce's bedroom floor. He'd been awake for nearly an hour, lying still in that space between sleep and full consciousness, mentally assessing the damage from his battle with Bane. Three cracked ribs. A recently popped shoulder that still complained whenever he moved it wrong. Cuts layered on bruises across his torso.
But he was alive. And that was always a victory.
The memories of last night remained vivid, Bane standing in the Batcave like some nightmare made flesh, Alfred crumpled against equipment racks, Dick staring down a monster that had nearly broken Batman himself. Their sanctuary violated, their equipment destroyed, their security shattered. The physical damage could be repaired, but something more fundamental had been lost, that feeling of having one place in the world that was truly safe.
Bruce opened his eyes, blinking as the sunlight hit them. The Lazarus water had finally worked its way out of his system overnight. The bizarre hallucinations were gone, and with them the unnatural healing and strength they'd provided. What remained was ordinary pain, familiar, honest, and in its own way, clarifying.
A gentle knock interrupted his thoughts. Alfred entered without waiting for a response, moving somewhat stiffly but with dignity intact despite the white bandage wrapped around his head that stood out starkly against his silver hair. He carried a breakfast tray, compensating for whatever damage Bane had done to his right side with the grace of long practice.
"Morning, Alfred," Bruce said, voice still rough from sleep.
"Good morning, sir," Alfred replied, somehow managing to sound perfectly composed despite the bruising visible along his jaw. "I've taken the liberty of preparing something more substantial than your usual toast and coffee. Dr. Thompkins was rather adamant about proper nutrition supporting recovery."
Bruce pushed himself up against the headboard, hiding a wince as his ribs complained. "You should be in bed yourself."
"As should you, Master Bruce." Alfred set the tray down with the same precision he brought to everything. "Yet here we are, both ignoring medical advice. Some things never change."
Bruce's mouth quirked up slightly. "How's Dick doing?"
"Master Richard is downstairs having what appears to be his third bowl of cereal. He's commandeered several napkins and colored pens to sketch costume designs." Something softened in Alfred's expression. "The boy's resilience is quite remarkable. Though he's refusing painkillers despite what must be considerable discomfort from his ribs."
"He doesn't want to look weak," Bruce said, reaching for the coffee mug. The warmth against his palms felt grounding, bringing him fully into the moment. "Not after what happened with Bane."
"Indeed. I can't imagine where he might have learned such behavior," Alfred remarked dryly.
Bruce ignored the jab. "What about our guest?"
"Delivered to Commissioner Gordon as arranged. The Tumbler's modifications performed admirably, and the handoff proceeded without incident." Alfred shifted his weight, subtly adjusting for what Bruce suspected was significant bruising along his torso. "The commissioner sends his gratitude, along with some rather colorful observations about Mr. Bane's character."
"Did Gordon mention GCPD headquarters?"
"Emergency operations have been established at the East End precinct, as expected. The official story attributes the collapse to structural failure during the storm - no mention of sabotage in public reports."
Bruce nodded and took a long drink of coffee. Politics as usual. At least Gordon knew the truth, and that was what mattered.
"And our security situation?"
"I've implemented the emergency protocols, sir. Master Fox is personally overseeing the installation of the upgraded system." Alfred's expression remained neutral, but something in his voice shifted slightly. "He was... rather taken aback by the extent of the damage below."
"I bet he was," Bruce said, setting down his mug. "The cave's a total loss. We'll need to rebuild everything from scratch. New systems, new equipment, new vehicles."
"Indeed. And perhaps we might consider addressing certain architectural weaknesses that allowed our uninvited guest entry in the first place?"
Bruce met Alfred's gaze. "Already on it. I've started drafting plans for a complete redesign - multiple chambers, redundant security systems, separate entry points. Nobody gets in without our knowing again."
"A wise decision, sir." Alfred gestured toward the breakfast tray. "Your meal awaits. Master Fox indicated he'd arrive with the materials you requested by ten o'clock, which gives you approximately forty-seven minutes to make yourself presentable."
Bruce glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was nearly nine-fifteen - practically midday by his standards. The fight with Bane had taken more out of him than he'd realized.
As Alfred turned to leave, Bruce called after him. "Alfred."
The butler paused in the doorway, eyebrow raised.
"Thank you," Bruce said quietly. "For the shotgun. For not hesitating."
Something flickered in Alfred's eyes - a glimpse of the soldier he'd once been, perhaps. "One does what one must to protect family, Master Bruce."
The simple declaration hung in the air between them - family, not employer. Bruce could only nod, momentarily beyond words.
After Alfred left, Bruce forced himself to eat despite his lack of appetite. His body needed fuel to heal, and there was too much work ahead to indulge weakness. Every bite was a conscious step toward recovery, toward being ready for whatever came next.
Because there was always a next. Gotham made sure of that.
Forty-five minutes later, showered and dressed in clothes that concealed the worst of his injuries, Bruce made his way down to the kitchen. He could hear animated conversation before he even entered - Dick's excited voice bouncing off the walls, punctuated by Lucius Fox's measured responses.
"—and then I was like WHAM with the bo staff right in his eye!" Dick was saying, hands gesturing wildly to illustrate his point. "He never saw it coming! I mean, who expects a kid to go for the eyeball, right?"
"Indeed, Master Richard," Alfred replied, refreshing the boy's orange juice. "The element of surprise remains an invaluable tactical advantage."
"You should have seen Bruce though, Mr. Fox," Dick continued, seemingly oblivious to the pain his enthusiastic movements must have caused his injured ribs. "When Bane broke into the cave, Bruce just—he threw himself between that monster and us like—"
Dick stopped mid-sentence as Bruce entered the kitchen. In the bright morning light, last night's battle was written clearly across the boy's face - an angry purple bruise spread across his left cheek, a split in his bottom lip, butterfly bandages closing a gash above his eyebrow.
"Morning," Bruce said casually.
The kitchen held its breath for a moment. Then Dick grinned, the expression transforming his battered face. "Hey, partner."
That single word hung between them, charged with meaning after their agreement in the aftermath of battle.
Lucius Fox, ever the diplomat, merely raised an eyebrow as he rose from his seat at the kitchen island. "I see the Dynamic Duo has survived to fight another day."
"Just barely," Bruce admitted, accepting Lucius's firm handshake. "Thanks for coming on such short notice."
"When Alfred Pennyworth calls at 3 AM saying the Batcave has been 'somewhat compromised,' one learns to read between the lines." Lucius glanced meaningfully at their collective injuries. "Though I must admit the reality exceeds even my vivid imagination."
Bruce moved to the coffee pot, refilling the mug Alfred had already set out for him. "It was... educational."
"That's one word for it," Dick muttered, rubbing his ribs absently.
Lucius studied them both with the shrewd assessment that had made him one of Bruce's most valued allies. "Well, I've brought the materials you requested. And a few additional items I thought might prove useful given your current... predicament."
Bruce nodded gratefully. "Let's move to the study. We have a lot to cover."
The east wing study had become their de facto command center since the cave's destruction. Maps and papers covered the antique desk, computer equipment hummed on a side table, and various prototype gadgets lay scattered across every available surface. Alfred had efficiently transformed the dignified space into a working headquarters that balanced functionality with the need to maintain appearances should any unexpected visitors arrive.
Lucius set his briefcase on the desk and opened it with practiced efficiency. "First, the biological analysis you requested on the sample from our muscular friend." He handed Bruce a sealed folder. "Fascinating compound. Similar to the military stimulant from the Perseus program, but significantly modified. Enhances cellular regeneration, increases bone density, and amplifies strength beyond normal human limitations."
Bruce skimmed the report, his expression darkening. "Side effects?"
"Catastrophic in the long term. Liver failure, neurological degradation, cardiovascular collapse. Nobody should survive more than two years of regular use." Lucius looked up. "Though I understand our friend has been using it considerably longer."
"Since his time in Peña Duro," Bruce confirmed. "The mask regulated the dosage, kept the worst effects at bay. When I damaged it..." He trailed off, the memory of Bane's transformation still vivid - flesh splitting as muscles expanded beyond human capacity, veins glowing toxic green.
"You triggered an overdose that would have killed an ordinary man," Lucius finished. "The fact he survived at all suggests physiological adaptations we don't fully understand."
"He mentioned a pit," Dick said, carefully examining a prototype batarang. "Some place under the prison called 'the devil's cradle.' Said it changed him even before the Venom."
Bruce nodded, filing the information away for later investigation. "What about the data drive?"
"Partially decrypted," Lucius replied, retrieving a tablet from his case. "Enough to confirm your suspicions about the contract on Harvey Dent. Lady Shiva arrived in Gotham six days ago with the others. The contract specifically calls for assassination before Dent can testify at the Falcone trial."
"Which is meaningless now that Bane's team destroyed the evidence," Bruce noted.
"Not entirely," Dick interjected. "Gordon's people saved some digital backups. Not enough for the full RICO case, but still enough to cause problems for Carmine. They'd want Dent gone just to be safe."
Bruce gave Dick an appraising look, impressed by the boy's analysis. "Exactly. And there's more to it than silencing a witness. Harvey's been building his political base for a mayoral run next year. Taking him out now eliminates a potential threat to their interests in city government."
"So we protect Dent," Dick said with the simplicity of youth.
"It's not that straightforward," Bruce replied, pacing the length of the study. "Lady Shiva isn't like the other assassins. She's practically invisible until she strikes. No pattern, no warning. Just a perfectly executed kill."
"I take it you have some history with this woman?" Lucius inquired, eyebrow raised.
Bruce's expression closed slightly. "We trained under the same master for a time. She was... exceptional."
"Better than you?" Dick asked, eyes widening.
Bruce met his gaze directly. "Yes."
The simple admission hung in the air, its implications clear. If Lady Shiva was targeting Harvey Dent, they faced an opponent beyond anything they'd encountered so far.
"Well then," Lucius said, breaking the tension with practiced ease, "I suppose it's fortunate I brought these." He removed several cases from his briefcase, revealing an array of specialized equipment. "New comms with encrypted frequencies that should resist even military-grade jamming. Lightweight body armor capable of stopping most conventional weapons. And these—" he held up what appeared to be ordinary glasses "—provide real-time facial recognition against global databases."
"Cool," Dick breathed, examining the glasses with undisguised fascination.
"And for our young associate," Lucius continued, producing a final case, "something special."
He opened it to reveal a sleek, black bodysuit unlike anything in Bruce's arsenal. Instead of the heavy Kevlar plates that defined the Batsuit, this costume featured a more flexible design with strategic reinforcement at vital points.
"Cutting-edge impact-absorbing polymer," Lucius explained as Dick stared in awe. "Lightweight enough for acrobatics but capable of distributing kinetic energy across the entire surface area. The cape contains memory fabric that can shift from flexible to rigid on command – useful for controlled gliding. And the mask incorporates the same night-vision technology as the cowl, just in a more compact package."
Dick reached out hesitantly, fingers brushing the material with reverence. "This is amazing, Mr. Fox."
"This is just the base," Lucius clarified. "It can be customized according to your specifications."
Dick looked up at Bruce, uncertainty clear in his expression. "We talked about colors already, right? The red and green, like we discussed yesterday? Different from my blue circus costume? And the yellow cape?"
Bruce studied the prototype, considering the possibilities. Dick was right – Batman's shadow worked because it inspired fear. But a partner needed to represent something else – hope, perhaps. A reminder of why they fought.
"Bright colors would make him a target," Bruce observed, not quite dismissing the idea.
"I'm already a target," Dick countered. "Might as well be one on my terms."
Bruce's mouth tightened, but he couldn't argue with the logic. The boy had already faced Deathstroke, Kraven the Hunter, and Bane. Hiding in shadows wouldn't make him any safer now.
"Red torso," he confirmed. "Green sleeves. Black armored sections for vital areas. Yellow cape, lined with black for stealth operations. Just like we discussed."
Dick's face lit up. "And you think it could be ready for tonight?"
"With protective protocols," Bruce added firmly. "The suit integrates with mine, vitals monitoring, location tracking, emergency extraction capabilities."
"I can have a prototype ready by this evening if I start immediately," Lucius said, already making notes on his tablet. "Though I'd strongly suggest more thorough field testing before actual deployment."
"We don't have that luxury," Bruce replied. "Lady Shiva won't wait for us to complete proper testing cycles."
Dick's eyes widened. "You mean I'd get to wear it tonight? For real?"
"In an observation capacity only," Bruce cautioned, raising a hand before Dick's enthusiasm could spiral. "You'll monitor from a secure location with direct visual of the main ballroom. No engagement unless absolutely necessary."
"But I'd be there. As Robin." Dick's voice carried a mix of awe and determination.
Bruce nodded once. "As Robin."
"Then I'd better get started right away," Lucius said, reaching for his tablet. "Red torso, green sleeves, yellow cape with black lining, as discussed. I'll need precise measurements, though."
"Alfred took them yesterday," Bruce said. "For the tuxedo."
"Of course he did," Lucius chuckled. "Always three steps ahead, that man."
Alfred appeared in the doorway, as if summoned by the mention of his name. "The measurements have already been sent to your secure server, Master Fox. Along with Master Richard's latest sketches of his preferred design elements."
Dick looked surprised. "You scanned my napkin drawings?"
"I took the liberty of improving them slightly," Alfred replied with the faintest hint of amusement. "While your artistic enthusiasm is commendable, certain anatomical proportions required adjustment for manufacturing purposes."
"Gala events tend to attract trouble in this city," Bruce said, resuming his pacing across the study. "Perfect hunting ground for an assassin of Shiva's caliber. Multiple access points, predictable security layouts, and plenty of civilian cover."
"Not to mention Harvey will be completely exposed," Dick added, setting down the prototype batarang he'd been examining. "Especially if he's working the room to raise campaign funds."
"Exactly," Bruce nodded. "Which means we need to be there. All of us, in different capacities."
Lucius leaned against the desk, arms crossed as he observed this new dynamic between Bruce and the boy. "I assume you'll be making an appearance as Bruce Wayne, generous donor and Gotham socialite?"
"It maintains the cover while putting me in position to monitor threats," Bruce confirmed. "The Wayne name still opens doors that Batman can't access. And Gordon will already have officers stationed throughout the venue – I can coordinate with him directly."
"And what about me?" Dick asked eagerly. "I can't exactly show up in my circus costume." His hand unconsciously touched the tear in his sleeve where the blue fabric of his family's performance suit had given way during the fight with Bane.
Lucius glanced at his phone, nodding as he confirmed receipt of the files. "These will do nicely. I'll head back to the lab immediately. With any luck, we'll have a functional prototype ready for final adjustments by early evening."
"I'm really going to be Robin," Dick said softly, almost to himself. Then, with more confidence: "We're really doing this. Batman and Robin."
"Tonight's operation is still purely surveillance," Bruce reminded him, though his tone had softened. "Lady Shiva won't be easily identified – she's a master of disguise and infiltration. Our priority is to locate her before she can make a move on Dent."
"Which brings us back to our basic problem," Lucius noted. "How do you intend to identify someone who specializes in being invisible until the moment of attack?"
Bruce's expression grew more focused. "Everyone has patterns, even assassins like Shiva. She prefers methods that appear natural or accidental, leaving no evidence of foul play. Given Dent's public profile, she'll likely aim for something that looks like sudden medical emergency."
"Like what?" Dick asked, frowning. "Poison?"
"Possibly," Bruce nodded. "But poisons leave trace evidence, and the high-profile nature of the target means an autopsy would be thorough. More likely she'll use a precisely delivered strike to induce cardiac arrest or cerebral hemorrhage – something that can be attributed to natural causes."
Dick winced. "That sounds... terrifying. Can we even stop something like that?"
"By preventing her from getting close enough to execute it," Bruce said firmly. "The new facial recognition tech Lucius brought will help. We'll monitor everyone who approaches Dent, looking for subtle inconsistencies in movement patterns or social interactions."
"I'll also incorporate several medical scanners into both suits," Lucius added. "Configured to detect unusual spikes in heart rate, blood pressure, and other vital signs that might indicate the onset of an induced medical event."
"Won't be easy with a room full of Gotham's elite," Alfred observed dryly. "Half the attendees will be experiencing elevated blood pressure simply from the sight of their ex-spouses accompanied by younger partners."
Despite the gravity of the situation, Dick snorted with surprised laughter. Bruce's mouth twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile.
"Focus on people who maintain direct contact with Dent for more than a few seconds," Bruce instructed, turning back to Dick. "Shiva will need physical proximity to execute her technique – a handshake, a congratulatory embrace, anything that allows momentary contact with vulnerable areas."
Dick nodded, his expression turning serious as he absorbed the information. "So I'll be watching from above while you circulate among the guests?"
"Exactly. You'll have a better vantage point to observe overall patterns – who approaches Dent, who lingers nearby, who seems out of place. I'll be on the ground, intercepting anyone who registers as suspicious."
"And what if we identify her?" Dick asked the question they'd been circling around. "What then?"
Bruce's expression hardened. "We alert Gordon immediately. The goal is prevention, not confrontation. Under no circumstances are you to engage directly."
"But what if—"
"No direct engagement," Bruce repeated, his tone making it clear this wasn't negotiable. "Lady Shiva is beyond your current capabilities. Beyond most people's capabilities."
Dick looked like he wanted to argue but seemed to think better of it. "Understood. Observation only."
As Lucius gathered his belongings, Dick couldn't contain his excitement. "So we're basically going on a stakeout," he said, a grin spreading across his face despite his split lip. "But fancy."
"A stakeout that requires formal attire and impeccable manners," Alfred added, appearing in the doorway with a stack of freshly pressed clothes. "I've already seen to your tuxedo, Master Bruce. As for young Master Richard..."
"I have a suit," Dick cut in quickly. "From when my family performed for some European royalty. It might be a little tight now, but—"
"We'll get you something new," Bruce said, his tone gentle but final. "Consider it essential equipment for tonight's operation."
Something flickered across Dick's face—gratitude mixed with the grief that never quite disappeared when his parents were mentioned. "Thanks," he said simply.
Bruce nodded once before turning back to Lucius. "What about the communications? We'll need something temporary until the new systems are ready. Something untraceable."
"Already handled," Lucius replied, producing two small earpieces from a hidden compartment in his briefcase. "These operate on rotating frequencies with military-grade encryption. Even NSA would have trouble pinning them down."
Bruce examined the devices with an expert eye before nodding his approval. "And the cave reconstruction?"
Lucius activated a holographic display from his tablet, revealing detailed schematics for a completely redesigned Batcave. "Multiple chambers, redundant security measures, electromagnetic shielding throughout. We can expand into the eastern section without compromising structural integrity."
"Timeline?" Bruce asked, studying the plans.
"Basic functionality within seventy-two hours. Complete restoration in about two weeks." Lucius deactivated the display. "Assuming, of course, no more unexpected visits from enhanced mercenaries."
"That reminds me," Dick said, grabbing a notebook from the desk. "I've been thinking about how Bane found the cave. He must have tracked the Batmobile somehow, right? So I've been working on some countermeasures."
He flipped open the notebook, revealing pages of surprisingly sophisticated designs. Bruce leaned in, genuinely intrigued as Dick explained.
"What if we added a false signal emitter? Something that looks like the Batmobile's signature but actually leads to a decoy location? And maybe a stealth mode that masks the real vehicle's electromagnetic signature?"
Bruce studied the diagrams with growing interest. The ideas were rough but innovative, approaching the problem from angles he hadn't considered.
"These have real potential," he said, tapping one sketch showing a distributed sensor network. "Especially this one. We could integrate it with Gotham's traffic monitoring systems."
Dick straightened slightly, unable to hide his pride at the praise. "I was thinking about circus misdirection—how we'd make the audience look where we wanted while setting up the real trick somewhere else."
"Smart thinking," Bruce said, genuinely impressed. "Work with Lucius on implementing these into the new vehicle designs."
"I'd be delighted to," Lucius agreed, examining Dick's notes with professional interest. "You've got quite the technical mind, young man. Ever considered engineering as a potential career?"
Dick shrugged, but couldn't hide his pleased expression. "Still figuring that out. Mom thought I might be a scientist someday. Dad always said I'd run away to join another circus as soon as I was old enough."
A shadow crossed his face at the mention of his parents, but it passed almost as quickly as it appeared. Bruce recognized that momentary pain—the grief that never truly healed, just became something you learned to carry.
"Speaking of family traditions," Bruce said, changing the subject, "when we rebuild the cave, I want to include a proper training area for both of us. Something that combines my combat methods with your acrobatic approach."
Dick's eyes widened. "Really? Like, with a flying trapeze and everything?"
"If that's what you need to develop your skills, yes," Bruce confirmed. "Your movement in three-dimensional space is a tactical advantage we should maximize."
"That would be amazing!" Dick's excitement was almost palpable, his injuries temporarily forgotten. "I could teach you some of the sequences my parents developed—they're perfect for combat applications. And maybe you could show me that nerve strike thing you used on Bane?"
"One step at a time," Bruce cautioned, though he couldn't completely suppress a small smile at the boy's enthusiasm. "First, we need to get through tonight's operation."
"Right," Dick nodded, instantly refocusing. "Protect Dent, identify Shiva's potential moves, gather intel for the real confrontation later."
"Precisely," Bruce agreed, impressed by how quickly Dick had assimilated the mission parameters. "Alfred will brief you on proper society etiquette while I speak with Commissioner Gordon about our mutual concerns."
"Society etiquette?" Dick repeated, his enthusiasm visibly deflating. "Like, which fork to use and stuff?"
"Among other essential skills," Alfred confirmed with the faintest hint of amusement. "Such as how to effectively observe a room without appearing to do so, how to extract oneself from unwanted conversations, and how to maintain cover when recognizing potential threats."
Dick immediately perked up. "Oh. Spy stuff. I can do that."
"Indeed, Master Richard. Though I prefer to think of it as the proper education of a young gentleman," Alfred replied. "After all, the most effective disguise is often the one hiding in plain sight."
"Just like at the circus," Dick said with dawning comprehension. "The whole show is misdirection—making the impossible look easy while hiding all the hard work behind the scenes."
"Precisely," Alfred nodded approvingly. "Now, shall we begin with the basics of formal table settings? I find it helps to conceptualize it as a tactical arrangement rather than mere tradition."
As Alfred led Dick away for his crash course in high society infiltration, Bruce turned to the window, gazing out at the grounds of Wayne Manor. Morning sunlight bathed the manicured lawns in golden light, creating an illusion of peace that stood in stark contrast to their reality.
Lady Shiva was in Gotham. Harvey Dent was marked for death. The Batcave lay in ruins. And Bruce Wayne had just officially taken a ten-year-old boy as his partner in the most dangerous mission imaginable.
"You realize what you've done," Lucius said quietly, coming to stand beside him. "Taking the boy as a partner changes everything."
"I know," Bruce acknowledged, watching their reflections in the window glass. "But after what happened with Bane... he earned it, Lucius. He saved my life. Alfred's too."
"I'm not questioning his capability," Lucius clarified. "Merely observing that partners require a different approach than solo operations. Different protocols. Different priorities."
Bruce's jaw tightened slightly. "I can adapt."
"Can you?" Lucius asked, his tone measured but pointed. "Eight years of operating alone, making split-second decisions without considering anyone but yourself. That's a difficult pattern to break, Bruce."
"I don't have a choice," Bruce replied, turning to face his friend directly. "Bane proved that. I can't do this alone anymore, not against the kind of threats that are emerging."
Lucius studied him for a long moment, as if searching for something in Bruce's expression. Whatever he found seemed to satisfy him.
"Then perhaps this partnership is exactly what Batman needs," he said finally. "And what Bruce Wayne needs as well."
Before Bruce could respond, his secure phone buzzed. Gordon's direct line. He answered immediately, putting it on speaker.
"Commissioner."
"We've got a problem," Gordon's voice came through, tense with urgency. "Bane's gone."
Bruce felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. "What do you mean, gone?"
"Exactly what I said. The transport taking him to supermax never arrived. We found it abandoned on the eastern highway, guards dead, prisoner missing. Someone hit it hard and fast with military-grade equipment."
"Signs of Bane's condition?" Bruce asked, mind already calculating possibilities.
"Medical supplies were stolen from the transport. Looks like whoever took him knew exactly what he needed." Gordon's frustration was palpable even through the phone connection. "This wasn't some random jailbreak, Batman. This was a precision extraction."
"Pierce," Bruce said grimly, meeting Lucius's concerned gaze. "The same organization backing Alberto Falcone."
"That's my assessment too," Gordon agreed. "We're looking at something bigger than just the Falcones now. Something with resources beyond anything we've dealt with before."
"Keep me updated on any developments. I'll work my own angles." Bruce paused, then added, "And Gordon? Watch your back. If they're cleaning house, you might be on their list."
"Always do," Gordon replied before ending the call.
Bruce pocketed the phone, his mind already racing through implications and countermeasures. "Lucius—"
"I'll accelerate the cave reconstruction," Lucius said immediately. "And prioritize the new suit for young Mr. Grayson. I assume tonight's plans remain in effect?"
"More critical than ever," Bruce confirmed. "Lady Shiva, Bane, Alberto Falcone, Alexander Pierce – they're all connected. The key is figuring out how, and Dent might be our best lead."
As Lucius gathered his materials to depart, Bruce found himself staring at the photograph of his parents on the mantelpiece. The weight of responsibility seemed to increase with each passing day – not just for Gotham now, but for Dick, for the future they were building together.
From the next room, he could hear Dick's animated voice as Alfred explained the finer points of navigating a formal reception. The boy's resilience was remarkable – facing monsters one night, learning proper tie knots the next.
"Partners," Bruce murmured to himself, testing the unfamiliar concept.
In the photograph, his father's eyes seemed to regard him with knowing approval. Thomas Wayne had never worked alone either, he'd built networks, formed alliances, understood that true strength came through connection rather than isolation.
Maybe, Bruce thought as he moved to join Dick and Alfred, it was time for Batman to learn the same lesson.