Bruce shoved his feet into the armored boots. He secured a utility belt around his waist before putting away in the specialized pockets all the equipment he'd be carrying, the sharpened and unsharpened batarangs, a few smoke bombs, the grappler gun, a set of lock picks, wire cutters, a few tools for bypassing security systems, a reel of cable, and the explosive gel dispenser.

His hands were encased in protective gloves, and protruding from the exterior of each forearm were three metal hooks, angled backwards toward his elbows. Combined with the ablative armor of his sleeves, the hooks would allow him to deflect or snare blades in close combat without risking his hands.  The black fabric was deceptively simple in appearance, but it had been crafted from the specialized material at Wayne Enterprises, making it more than up to the job of protecting Bruce from harm.

Lucius had also come through with the gliding cape, and Bruce draped it from his shoulders. The bottom edge of the material narrowed in several locations to a point, so when the cape flared outward, the scalloped edge better resembled the shape of bat wings.

Attached to the top of the cape was a cowl. As Bruce pulled it up over his head, it covered everything on the upper half of his face except his eyes. The top portion of the cowl had been molded and was rigid, giving Bruce's facial features a more defined and fearsome appearance. A pair of pointed bat ears rose from the top of the cowl on either side of his head; hidden inside them were enhanced microphones for eavesdropping on criminals as well as a complex communication system to allow Bruce contact with either Alfred or Lucius without needing the microphone and earpiece he'd been using.

Bruce had asked for the cowl to be scary as the criminals he attacked from the shadows would only get the briefest of looks before he took them down, and the glimpse needed to be the stuff of nightmares. The way Alfred involuntarily flinched when Bruce turned around and revealed the completed costume told Bruce Lucius had hit the mark Bruce wanted. The entire suit was solid black with the exception of a gray bat symbol across his muscular chest. The symbol matched perfectly the design of the batarangs Alfred had put together.

"Do you have that list of targets?" Bruce asked.  A small device resting against his throat altered his voice, making it sound robotic.

"Yes sir," Alfred said after a momentary hesitation as he collected himself.

"Transmit it to me when I get out there," Bruce instructed.

He fired the grapple up to a support beam he'd installed horizontally near the top of the crevice providing the transition between the cave and the outside world. He was dragged upward and was able to easily pull himself onto the beam. He released the grapple in passing and put it away, his intensive practice made it look effortless.

Taking hold of the edges of his cape, Bruce used the miniature electrodes in his gloves to activate the special ability of the fabric. The cape was constructed from memory cloth. It was indistinguishable from ordinary material until electrically charged, making certain portions become more rigid and form the frame of his glider.

Jumping off the beam, Bruce soared out of the cave, diving then swooping upward to gain height and momentum. His lengthy hours practicing in a wind tunnel were paying off. Banking to the right, he adjusted the angle of his glide across the night sky and headed for the nearest bridge. On his augmented reality display of his optical lenses, a scrolling window of incoming data appeared in transparent green, hovering in front of him on the left and listing off the various criminal locations Alfred had selected as possible candidates for Bruce to take down.

When he approached the bridge, Bruce tightened the cape around him to dive down. The wind whipped past him as he plummeted toward the dark waters. Spreading his arms wide, he flared out his cape to catch the wind, soaring upward and gaining height. His momentum gradually faded as gravity worked against him. As he neared the end of his flight path, an instant before he entered free fall, Bruce let go of the cape and pulled out his grappler, firing a quick shot toward the top of the bridge. Without the cape to support him, Bruce started to fall, but the grappler hooked on the bridge and dragged him back up. He found a perch atop a steel girder, the wind causing his cape to billow out behind him.

"I got your list," Bruce told Alfred through the communicator built into the cowl. "I think I'll tackle the chop shop run by the Ninth Street Stalkers."

Neither Bruce nor Alfred used their proper names over the communication frequency. Although it was encrypted, there was always a chance someone might be listening in, and Bruce didn't want his identity being revealed by a stray comment.

"The list recommends taking out one of their heist teams, not the shop itself," Alfred reminded.

"The police file says their numbers are limited," Bruce replied. "A major bust took a good portion of them off the streets. After I bring down their heist team, I can hit the shop with limited risk."

"It's your choice," Alfred said in resignation. "Do be careful, Sir."

"Don't worry," Bruce assured him. "This will be a slow progression. I'll take them down a little at a time until they're done. Keep tabs on my location and be ready to call it in to the police when I clear each area."

"Understood, Sir," Alfred acknowledged.

Bruce dived off the bridge, flaring out his cape and gliding toward the location marked on the holographic compass hovering near the top of his vision.

                                                                                            ***

The three thugs looked up and down the street, checking to be sure no one was watching. One of the trio placed a square device on the hood of the car before nodding to another of the thieves. Using a metal pipe, the one closest to the driver's seat shattered the window. No alarm sounded, and two of the criminals climbed in the car and popped the hood while the third went to work on the engine.

Bruce was perched on a gargoyle overlooking the street, watching everything. He switched on the enhanced vision of his optics, turning his world blue and making every person on the street appear as a living skeleton. He didn't see anyone else around, waiting in ambush, but he did notice the magnetic coils inside the box the thieves had set on the hood. Combined with their current replacement of the car battery, Bruce concluded the device shorted out the electrical system in order to prevent the alarm from going off.

Having seen enough, and not wanting to further damage the car by having to blow the tires, Bruce lunged off the gargoyle. He'd stop the criminals now before the theft escalated into a car chase. When he was a few feet from the ground, Bruce dropped a smoke grenade before he landed in the street in front of the car. The criminals inside could only see a silhouette as Bruce slammed the car hood down on the thief in front. The impact dropped the man to the ground, groaning loudly.

Wasting no time, Bruce moved around the car and grabbed the driver as he tried to get out, taking hold of him and smashing his head into the top of the car before reversing directions and tossing the thief into the street on his back. Gripping the top of the doorframe, Bruce dived through the car feet first to catch the last thief with both boots to the chest, kicking the criminal up against the brick wall of the nearby apartment building.

The smoke cloud was starting to disperse. Taking a spool of cable from his belt, Bruce quickly secured the criminals, tying them together and throwing the line over a streetlight to suspend the bundle of captured thieves in front of the car they'd tried to steal.

"Done here; alert the cops," Bruce instructed as he tied off the line to the car's bumper.

"They're on their way," Alfred reported.

Bruce fired his grapnel and took to the sky. He ran across the rooftops where the buildings were either too high or too close together for him to dive and build up sufficient speed to glide. He closed the distance to the abandoned garage where the gang had their chop shop. Readying a smoke grenade in both hands, Bruce jumped from a taller building next door and crashed through the skylight. The shattering glass got the attention of the five criminals inside, all of them looking up from their illegal work to see Bruce descending on them, cape spread wide. The grenades hit the ground, throwing up clouds of obscuring smoke. Switching on his enhanced vision to be able to see through the smoke, Bruce began his assault.

                                                                                           ***

"You want to tell me why I'm on this roof?" Lieutenant Gordon asked to the empty air atop the GCPD building. He'd received a phone call asking him to go to the roof. The caller only said it was important before hanging up. Gordon's curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he now stood in the cold, wanting answers.

"I know you want to help Gotham," Bruce said from the shadows.  "I can help you in this task."

"And, exactly who are you?" Gordon questioned. One hand reached into his pocket for a flashlight, the other rested on the grip of his gun.

Bruce moved silently, changing positions. "I'm a friend."

The voice coming unexpectedly from behind him caused Gordon to spin around, gun drawn and flashlight out, but no one was there.

"Where are you?" Gordon demanded, losing patience with the game of hide and seek.

"Put away the flashlight and gun," Bruce said from Gordon's left before he shifted around to the right. "Your department is too corrupt for me to operate openly."

Gordon hesitated a moment before clicking off the flashlight. He returned it to his pocket before holstering his gun.

"I've been trying to clean out the bad apples in the department, but it isn't easy," Gordon related to the darkness.

"I can help," Bruce informed him. "We can make Gotham safe again. I've already begun."

"I take it you're the one leaving us the tied bundles of criminals," Gordon assumed.

"I can catch them, but I'll need honest cops and an impartial justice system to put them away," Bruce explained. "I need your help."

"I can't have someone running around Gotham beating up suspects," Gordon answered.

"When the police have confidential informants, they often turn a blind eye to the offenses they are doing because of the assistance they offer in bringing down bigger targets," Bruce reminded. "Consider me a confidential informant who will bring down the worst criminals in Gotham."

"If anyone finds out we're working together, it could be my life on the line," Gordon pointed out.

"You live in Gotham," Bruce replied. "Your life is already at risk, it's doubled by you carrying a badge."

"I'll think about it," Gordon said at length.

"While you're considering the offer, have a look at the King Motel, room four," Bruce suggested. "You've been looking for a fugitive name Salomar. He's waiting for you there."

"No one could find Salomar," Gordon objected.

"I did," Bruce answered simply. "Criminals don't fear the law in Gotham, but they will. They will fear me."

"Who are you?" Gordon asked again insistently.

Bruce took a step forward, moving just far enough into the light for his fearsome visage to be seen. Gordon flinched in spite of himself.

"I'm Batman," Bruce told him. In a swirl of his cape, he dived off the roof and glided away. It would be hours until dawn, and much work remained to do. Batman was only getting started.