The balcony doors opened almost silently as Talia al Ghul exited the room. The night welcomed her with a chill breeze, and the thin nightgown of black silk she wore did little to resist it. She ignored the cold, resting her hands on the granite railing and scanning the horizon with her dark eyes.

Her husband, Bruce Wayne, awoke; noticing Talia's absence, he threw back the covers and joined her on the balcony, cinching his robe tight in the process.

"Trouble sleeping?" he asked, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. The gold of his wedding ring was a shard of ice against her skin.

She shook her head in denial, the moonlight reflecting off her raven hair in silver highlights.

Bruce sighed and moved to stand beside her.

"I met you when I was fifteen and first came here for training with your father," Bruce recalled while staring ahead at the distant mountains. "I married you five years later, and I've been your loving husband for the last twenty. You can deny it as much as you want, but I know you well enough to tell when something's bothering you."

"I'm thinking about our return to Gotham and what it will mean for our family," Talia said without looking toward her husband.

"Damien," Bruce concluded.

"You've been training our son, so I assume you'll want him involved with your work," Talia said.

"Your father had a hand in his training as well," Bruce reminded. "Damien's been prepared by me and the leader of the League of Assassins. He's had more training than I did when I started as Batman."

"Gotham was a different place then," Talia reminded. "You and I both know, despite your best efforts, it's only gotten worse."

"I've been doing this job for years, why the sudden concern?" Bruce questioned.

"When Damien was born, I relaxed a little because I knew if anything happened, I'd still have a piece of you living in him," Talia explained. "Now, both of you are going out into that crime-ridden city. A wife and mother can't help but worry."

Bruce moved his hand to cover hers.

"It will be alright," Bruce promised.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Beloved," Talia cautioned. "But, I'm certain you said the same thing to Jason and Barbara."

Bruce's hand stiffened slightly at the mention of those names and the painful memories they dredged up.

"Gotham City destroys lives; it always has," Talia lamented. "Friends, family, and good people either killed or so badly torn up they never recover. I just don't want the next headstones carved by that hateful city to belong to you and Damien."

Talia closed her eyes as tears fled from them. Bruce put his arms around her, holding her close against his muscular chest.

"I've always been better at fighting criminals than expressing how I feel," Bruce admitted. "As bad as it is in Gotham for us, we've had training. Can you imagine what life is like for those without our abilities? How many people live in fear of what the criminals are going to do? Batman gives innocent people hope they'll see another sunrise. I don't know what problems may be waiting for us in Gotham, but I can't turn my back on people who need help."

"I know," Talia sniffed. "I just wish the price of their peace of mind wasn't so high."

"I can afford to pay high prices; I'm a billionaire," Bruce joked to lighten the mood.

Talia laughed slightly before pulling away enough to look Bruce in the eyes.

"This is our last night here before we go back to Gotham," Talia told him. "Who knows if it may be our last night in this world?"

"Then, let us make the most of it," Bruce suggested. He put one arm around her slender waist while his other swept under her legs to lift her off the ground. Carrying her back into their room, Bruce kicked the door closed behind him to shut out the rest of the world.

***

Even when it wasn't raining, Gotham was cold and gray, a collection of multistory grave makers composing the skyline.

The private jet cruised in for a landing on the airport runway. Once its speed diminished, the aircraft taxied to the designated hangar where a limousine was waiting.

The front door of the shiny black car opened and a man in formal attire stepped out. The hair atop his head had long ago turned white and what was left of it resided only on the sides and in back of his scalp. The man took long strides in haste to reach the rear door, but before he got there, it opened.

Exiting the back of the limousine was a tall youth with a crop of unruly hair as dark as the car he climbed out of.

"Master Damien," said the driver in a British accent. "I do wish you would wait for me."

"Patience isn't one of my virtues, Alfred," Damien replied.

"Perhaps, you should consider adding it," Alfred suggested. "It might serve you well in your nightly endeavors."

"I'll keep it in mind," Damien reluctantly accepted. "No promises."

"From you, sir?" Alfred questioned. "Perish the thought."

The side hatch of the jet, right behind the cockpit, folded down to allow the protrusions on the interior side to become steps leading down to the floor of the hangar.

Talia exited the plane first. Attired in dark slacks and a white dress shirt with the top button undone and the cuffs rolled slightly back, she looked slightly formal and casual at the same time. Bruce followed her out. The necktie of his black pinstripe suit was absent, and it made his clothing match the relaxed style of his wife.

"Welcome home," Damien greeted his parents. "Have a good trip?"

"Yes, we did," Talia confirmed. She hugged her son before shaking hands with Alfred. "Nice to see you both."

"How's Gotham?" Bruce inquired.

"About like you'd expect after a week of Batman being absent," Damien answered grimly. "Crime rate's up almost twenty percent. I could've filled in for you."

"Your training is good, but I want to supervise you in action before you go solo," Bruce responded.

"How about tonight?" Damien asked eagerly.

Bruce glanced toward Talia for her input.

"I suppose there isn't any way to put this off," Talia sighed. "Be safe and look out after each other."

***

Night transformed Gotham into a different realm entirely. Puddles of rainwater remained in the streets because trash and old newspapers clogging the nearby drains. The orange tinted streetlights reflected in the puddles and created the visual illusion of pools of molten rock around the base of each building as if the city had risen from the depths of the underworld.

The gargoyles hanging from various buildings were ordinary carvings of stone during the day, but at night, illuminated by flashing neon signs, they were transformed. A collection of brightly colored highlights and deep shadows, the gargoyles seemed to move in the momentary dark between flashes, only to reposition themselves so no one would notice. The optical illusion caused many citizens to walk faster in attempt to get home before dark. Crouching on rooftops and eaves, the gargoyles were a demonic army laying claim to the city and all the souls it contained.

Two figures atop a tall building abruptly moved, shifting position before becoming motionless again. Unless someone saw them change position, no one would know the two figures weren't part of the constructed landscape of the city.

Batman looked down from his perch, his gloved hands gripping tightly to the stone edge of the roof. His entirely black attire made him one with the night.

Crouched beside him was Damien. Since taking over as Robin, Damien had made some changes to the standard costume, reducing the green of the vest to almost black. The red of his shirt and pants had also been darkened until it resembled blood. The brightly colored outfit had been fine for Dick Grayson in the circus, but crime fighting required more stealth than the former colors had allowed. Since becoming the new Robin, Damien had been determined to redefine the heroic persona to match his own personal style.

"What's with you?" Robin asked in a whisper. When Batman didn't answer, he questioned him further. "Ever since you got back, you've been on edge. What's wrong?"

"It's your mother," Batman replied in a low growl.

"Is that why you've got us following her when there are so many other things we could be doing?" Damien inquired.

On the street below their vantage point, Talia stepped out from the driver's seat of a gray luxury car and entered an old warehouse.

"Something's bothering her more than ever before, and I don't think it's just you going out on these nightly errands with me," Batman explained. "I've seen her try to hide tears from me, and before I left tonight, she kissed me goodbye like she never expected to see me again."

"Now that you mention it," Damien recalled. "She did seem more emotional when she said goodbye to me too."

"Combine that with her late night meeting with unknown people in a shady part of town," Batman added.

"All of Gotham is a shady part of town," Robin pointed out.

"If she's not worried about us not coming back, then...," Batman trailed off as the horrifying thought solidified in his mind. He lunged off the rooftop and spread his specially designed cape to catch the air and glide down to the street.

Robin didn't understand what had spurred his father into action, but he followed him instantly.

Batman and Robin landed and broke into a full sprint. They were ten feet from the front door when the entire building exploded. The expanding air pressure flung the two heroes backwards and pelted them with flaming debris.

Nearby buildings were set ablaze or collapsed from damage taken in the initial explosion. Smoke rose into the sky in billowing plumes.

Batman and Robin quickly got back to their feet, but there was nothing they could do. The warehouse Talia had entered was nothing more now than a burning crater resembling a gateway into the very center of Hell.