“Sorry, Lucius,” Bruce murmured—then threw an elbow at the glass and shattered the panel. Glass rained down around them. Bruce gingerly took the outfit off its hanger, then continued down the aisles.
“This is your plan?” Alfred said incredulously as Bruce stopped before another row, where a series of laser-trained darts were arranged. “To take a whole host of your own corporation’s top-secret experimental gear and head to the concert hall? On your own?”
“That’s the plan,” Bruce replied. He grabbed several of the metal darts from their holsters and carefully arranged them inside his backpack. “If you have a better idea, Alfred, I’m happy to hearit.”
Alfred sighed as Bruce moved down the row, picking out a miniature cable launcher and what looked like a small, round sphere. Both items went into the backpack, too. “Master Wayne,” Alfred finally replied as they moved on down the rows. “You might want to consider how you’re going to get past the hacked drones around the concert hall. I have seen the footage. Lucius ordered enough stationed there that they can hold off nearly all of Gotham City’s police force. Experimental chain mail and a few smoke bombs won’t get you close enough.”
Bruce nodded. “I know—I’ve been thinking about that. But look.”
They reached the end of the block of rows. Across a path in the floor were the rest of the Ada drones, sitting dormant and awaiting commands. “Lucius told me that the drones are designed to not attack each other.” He walked up to the machines. “I can use one to get past the rest.Thesearen’t infected with whatever the Nightwalkers did to the others.”
Alfred did not look pleased at the thought, but he didn’t argue, either. Instead, he stepped closer to a drone and studied it. “How do you activate them?”
Bruce pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and brought up the app that Lucius had installed. “Give me your phone, Alfred.” When his guardian handed it over, Bruce added the same app to it and tapped a button. The eyes on the nearest Ada drone lit up immediately with a blue glow and swiveled in their direction, focusing on Bruce.
“Hello, Bruce Wayne,”it said. Then it moved into a steady crouch, awaiting more orders.
“Now I need a way into the building,” Bruce muttered.
Alfred frowned. “Master Wayne…”
“You’ve gotten me this far, Alfred.”
Alfred shook his head, but when he spoke again, he said, “The Seco Financial Building, near the concert hall. Wayne Industries is funding the construction on the building’s basement level, which connects into Gotham City’s downtown network of linked halls. It’s unfinished, but probably passable.”
Bruce nodded. “Perfect. That’ll do.”
“And then what, Master Wayne?” Alfred said as they watched the drone turn its head and follow their slightest movements. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m not sure about anything,” Bruce admitted. He hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders. “But I’m not about to let Madeleine get away with this. And the only way I can stop her is if I go theremyself.”
On the night Bruce’s parents were gunned down in the alley, Bruce had sat on the curb beside an officer and repeatedly counted the eight police cars and two ambulances on the scene. Now, as they drove as close to the edge of the concert hall blockade as they could, Bruce counted more than two dozen sets of flashing police lights, a cluster that could be seen from as far as four blocks away. A crowd of people had gathered on the outskirts of the blockade; beyond that, the streets were eerily empty as everyone holed away in their homes.
“A ransom note has come in,” Alfred said. He nodded at Bruce as he brought up the news on the car’s screen. “Look.”
Bruce read the top headline:NIGHTWALKERS DEMAND $500 MILLION RANSOM, RESIGNATIONS OF CITY OFFICIALS, RELEASE OF ALL PRISONERS FROM GOTHAM CITY PENITENTIARY AND ARKHAM ASYLUM.
“That’s absurd.” Bruce looked away, feeling ill.And they must know it.It was a political statement, to try to force their twisted justice.They must know the city cannot possibly release all their inmates, and they will use it as justification for killing everyone inside that building.His heart seized at the thought.Dianne would be among the casualties.
Alfred pulled the car around the corner into an alley and looked at Bruce. “Still there?” he asked.
Bruce looked down at his phone. The Ada drone had followed them on a different route through the streets and was now stopped a block away from them. Already, Bruce could see it gathering data and details about the standoff up ahead, its shields raised in defense mode and ready for possible assailants. As Bruce shifted, he could feel the cold smoothness of the protective mesh he wore, the suit of fitted black armor that secured him from head to toe. He picked up the opaque black helmet that came with the armor. In it, he could see the reflection of his face staring back at him, pale and uncertain. He took a deep breath and pulled it on.
To his surprise, sounds immediately magnified inside the helmet, and through the visor, the world looked sharper, the colors brighter and more vivid. It would be easier to distinguish people in the darkness.
“I’ll go on foot from here,” he said. His voice came out muffled and slightly different. “Alfred, keep an eye on our drone. Make sure it watches my back. If anything goes wrong with it, power it down immediately.” He revealed a small tracker on the skin of his waist. “You’ll know where I am inside the concert hall.”
Alfred looked ready to argue with him one last time, to tell him how ridiculous this entire plan sounded. And it wasn’t much of a plan at all.Steal a bunch of equipment and force my way in.What would he do if he could actually get inside? What then? How would he ever get close enough to find and rescue Dianne? Or Lucius? Or any of the others?
Bruce hesitated, heart pounding. A part of him wished that Alfred would tell him not to go. When he met his guardian’s gaze, he realized that the light he saw in those eyes was not disapproval, incredulity, or skepticism. It was fear. Fear of losing him.
“I’ll keep an eye on you,” Alfred said. “Get Dianne and Lucius—and getyourselfout of there safely. Do you understand me, Master Wayne?”
Bruce swallowed hard. “Yes, Alfred. I promise.” He lingered for a moment, wondering if he would make it out of this alive, if this was the last time they’d get to speak.
Alfred gave him a single, steady nod. “You can do this.”
Bruce found himself nodding back, trying to believe the words, feeling small again. He thought of the night when Alfred held an umbrella over him and escorted him back to the mansion, led him away from the alley and his parents and the blood and the rain.
