Bruce entered the workshop to find Alfred seated behind a grinder. A shower of white sparks flew from the grinder as Alfred honed the edge of a piece of metal he held in his gloved hands.

"Alfred?" Bruce called out to get his attention.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said in pleased surprise. He shut off the grinder, lifted his goggles from his eyes, and leaned back from the machine before handing Bruce the item he'd been working on. "What do you think?"

Bruce took the offered item carefully, holding the still warm metal up and letting the light glint off its polished edge. A flat disc rested against the fingers of his right hand, but the metal extending out to the left gave the impression of a misshapen axe head or mining tool. The furthermost edge on the left was beveled and sharp.

"It looks deadly," Bruce observed as he carefully turned the object over. "What's this for?"

"It's only half of the total unit," Alfred explained. "Here's an unsharpened version of the completed piece."

Bruce took the assembled unit, and when he compared it to the one he held, he realized the sharpened piece he'd been holding was only the left side. On the assembled unit, the right side was a mirror reflection of the left with the two pieces joined in the middle where their attached discs stacked on top of each other. The completed pattern created a representation of sharp edged bat wings spread wide.

"I installed a pair of spring-loaded pins inside the central disc," Alfred explained. "They're designed to fold for easier storage when you carry them, but with a simple flick of the wrist, they snap open and lock. Press the center to release the pins."

Bruce pressed an embossed bat symbol on the central disc, identical to the shape of the metal wings. A soft click triggered, and the wings folded in the middle, swiveling around the central disc to become more compact. Hanging on to one end, Bruce flicked his wrist and snapped the wings open again.

"A bat boomerang," Bruce marveled.

"A batarang?" Alfred suggested.

"Why not? It's an impressive design, and I like the folding ability," Bruce complimented. "I'm not sure about the sharp edges."

"It's not for throwing at people," Alfred denied. "The unsharpened one is for them. It's heavier but dull. It won't cut, stab, or lacerate. The sharpened ones are for use on the tires of getaway cars so they won't get away. Just don't get them mixed up."

"I'll try to remember that," Bruce promised.

                                                                                                  ***

Three Months Later...

"Master Bruce," Alfred called out as he exited the elevator into the cave. "Are the expenditures I've seen absolutely necessary?"

"Which expenditures?" Bruce questioned in return as he emerged from a side passage.

"You're now sponsoring a racecar?" Alfred inquired. "What possible purpose does supporting a racing team have to do with helping Gotham, besides increasing tourist trade?"

"Come with me," Bruce answered. He ushered Alfred into a different chamber of the cave and pulled a white sheet off an object he had sitting in the center of a large platform.

As the white fabric was pulled away, the skeletal frame of a powerful car was revealed. Gleaming steel and polished chrome, the vehicle didn't have an exterior covering, but the large engine and complicated driver's seat were in place. The front of the car was long and flat, leaving the driver near the rear of the vehicle.

"My word," Alfred breathed in amazement.

"Your comment about puncturing the tires on a getaway car reminded me not all criminals will be on foot," Bruce explained. "My previous support of the hospital covered my purchasing of medical supplies, and sponsoring a racecar hides my acquisition of high end engine parts. Additionally, I'll need an excuse to do some racing myself and learn how to win a car chase."

"What about your recent upgrades to the Gotham airport?" Alfred prompted.

Bruce motioned Alfred around to the back of the car where the circular vent of a jet afterburner was located.

"I need to be the fastest car on the road," Bruce explained. "It took quite some time studying online material before I figured out how to put this thing together. Aerodynamics, fuel to weight ratios, drag coefficients, just to name a few are what I had to learn about to get the car to this stage. I have two gas tanks on this thing because I can't have the jet fuel ending up in the front engine. The car is nowhere near being finished, but I should be able to complete it within the next year or so, maybe."

"I think your donations to the airport are rather extensive to cover just this one project, Master Bruce," Alfred observed.

"Quite right," Bruce confirmed. "I've also got a type of jet in the works, but it's not as far along as this. It's still just an idea on paper, but I got a few parts in preparation. I'll need to know how to fly the aircraft when I get it built, so my new jet, sitting in my private hanger, is waiting for me when I'm ready to start taking flying lessons."

"While you've been working down here, I've had a project of my own," Alfred told him, holding out a small box he was carrying.

Bruce took the box and opened it. The device lying inside the padded interior had a handle grip and trigger similar to a gun, but the barrel was square. Seated atop the handle, and housed in the same black casing, was a finger sized cartridge and miniature pressure gauge. A small reel was attached to the side of the entire assembly.

"Is this what I think it is?" Bruce asked, lifting the device out of the box.

"Your grappling gun, Master Bruce," Alfred confirmed. "I've tested it with different levels of weight, and it can support up to three people. Hopefully, you won't need that much, but it's there if you need it."

"Where have you been working on this?" Bruce asked while turning the grappler over in his hands.

"I've been testing it in the back yard," Alfred explained.

"How is it possible neither of us knew what the other has been doing for almost three months?" Bruce questioned.

"I believe the technical term is strategic division of labor, Master Bruce," Alfred clarified. "We have both been rather focused on our own projects; we weren't paying close enough attention to the other."

"I'd like to test the grapnel," Bruce stated. "However, I'm going to need a safety line in case something goes wrong. I don't want to get trapped on the roof or partway up."

"Of course, Sir," Alfred agreed. "I'll get your climbing gear."

                                                                                            ***

Bruce and Alfred stood on the back terrace. A safety line had been secured on the third floor balcony in case of trouble. Bruce aimed the grappler toward the balcony and pulled the trigger. The pressurized canister above the handle grip fired a burst of air with a slight bang, releasing from the square shaped barrel a four hooked claw trailing a line of strong but thin cable. The instant the claw moved beyond the confines of the barrel, the hooks flared outward on springs, opening up like the talons of a bird of prey. When the claws hit the balcony railing, the release switch between the hooks was struck, causing them to contract and snare the railing in a steel grip.

Pressing a secondary button on the side of the grapple with his thumb, Bruce activated the reel to retract the cable. The pull on his arms was very strong, yanking Bruce off his feet and dragging him up into the air and toward the third floor balcony. When he arrived, Bruce slammed into the railing harder than he expected, bruising his chest and nearly knocking the wind out of him, but he grabbed hold and pulled himself over and onto the balcony.

"It works!" Bruce shouted down to Alfred while massaging the soreness in his chest. "I think I'll practice on softer targets until I get the hang of it."

Because the powered reel only worked for taking the cable in, it wasn't capable of lowering Bruce back to the ground, forcing him to enter the house and take the stairs.

"I'm going to need a way to get back down on future attempts," Bruce told Alfred when he returned to the terrace.

"I could attach a reverse reel for the descent," Alfred suggested.

"No," Bruce denied. "I'm considering something different, possibly a little out there. What about the stuff used for parasailing or hang gliding? If I had something similar, but portable, I could deploy it as needed."

"What do you have in mind, Master Bruce?" Alfred queried.

"I think my crime fighting persona should have a cape," Bruce told him.

                                                                                            ***

Bruce's heart was racing. He'd done some risky and life threatening things, but jumping out of a functioning airplane wasn't one of them, until today.

"You ready?" asked the skydiving instructor, and Bruce responded with a thumbs up gesture. "Stay calm and you'll do fine."

A green light switched on over the exterior doorway. The door itself was missing, letting the wind scream past. The instructor motioned for Bruce to jump, and Bruce summoned all the courage he could, along with an unhealthy dose of recklessness for good measure. It was still barely enough to make him jump, but once he was out the door, gravity took over.

The height of the jump let Bruce see most of Gotham. The sky piercing towers vanished out of sight behind the smudged gray of the obscuring clouds, but the numerous buildings sticking up above the clouds still let him see the general area covered by the city. The drop site was outside the city limits where there was no chance of wind currents slamming either Bruce or his instructor into one of the buildings.

As Bruce plummeted in free fall, he felt a mixture of exhilaration and terror. It was exciting to see the world from such a lofty height and to feel the wind rushing past him, but the realization he was plunging toward certain death if he hit the ground kept him from entirely enjoying the descent. He was wearing a parachute, but such devices weren't infallible and accidents did happen.

The instructor had dived after Bruce, but his own descent was at a sharper angle, allowing him to catch up with Bruce. Following the instructor's example, Bruce spread his arms and legs to give himself a larger profile and catch more of the passing air. The two of them continued to fall in tandem until the instructor tapped the release for his parachute to signal it was time. Bruce pulled the release and was jerked hard as the parachute deployed and immediately slowed his fall. The instructor had waited until after Bruce's chute opened in case there was a problem he needed to fix. Certain Bruce was fine, the instructor pulled his own chute and began to glide.

Like feathers on the wind, Bruce and his instructor sailed across the sky and gently came down for a landing in an open field of a small airport.

"Nice," the instructor congratulated.

"Some of it was," Bruce replied with nervous laughter. "I'm not sure I want to make a habit of it."

"The fear goes away with practice," the instructor told him. "Once you get used to the routine, your mind will adjust."

"I'll be piloting a plane back to Gotham," Bruce said. "Need a lift?"

"I jump with rookies," the instructor answered. "I don't fly with them."

Bruce laughed. "Fair enough. Thanks for the lesson."

"Take care, Mr. Wayne," the instructor offered as he shook Bruce's hand in parting.

                                                                                                  ***

After his skydiving and flying lessons, Bruce returned to Wayne Manor. He found Alfred waiting for him in the main entryway.

"Happy landings, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked.

"I'm still alive," Bruce confirmed. "How's the design of the cape coming along?"

"Bad news on that front, Sir," Alfred regretfully reported.

"What's wrong?" Bruce asked.

"The technology required to make a flexible cape able to also serve as a glider is a bit beyond me," Alfred informed him. "We might need help on this one."

Bruce paced the perimeter of the circular entryway. He absently rubbed his index finger across his upper lip while supporting his elbow with his opposing hand. He made the circuit around the room twice before he came to a decision.

"There is one person we might be able to trust," Bruce suggested. "I need to change into a suit; would you get the car ready?"

"Certainly, Master Bruce," Alfred agreed.