“With all due respect, Master Wayne,” Alfred said politely, “hell if I’ll let your parents’ legacy end up in the hands of a bloody criminal mastermind.”
Bruce swallowed hard and tried to channel his rage into action. Focus. Think. His thoughts went to Lucius, who was currently sitting among those held hostage at the gala. Didn’t he rig up a new security system for my new accounts? Bruce thought. Then he straightened.
The security system placed on his new accounts. No wonder Madeleine hadn’t touched those yet; maybe she was having trouble breaking past the shields Lucius had put up. Maybe she…
An idea began to brew in his head.
“I’m going to need some more help, Alfred,” he said. “And from you, too, Harvey.”
He half expected Harvey to hesitate, but his friend didn’t even flinch. “Tell me what you need me to do. Do you have a plan?”
Bruce nodded grimly. “The start of one, at least. Harvey—I need you to alert the police. Tell them not to open fire on the drones. Tell them to stay back. I don’t know what Madeleine and the Nightwalkers will do to the hostages if the police try to move forward. Stall them, okay?”
“I’ll throw myself at them if I have to,” Harvey said, leaning forward to grip Bruce’s headrest. “Just be careful, got it?”
“You too.” Bruce exchanged a smile with his friend. As Alfred pulled up to the side of a street, Harvey got out of the car and, without a backward glance, headed toward the flashing lights.
Bruce watched his friend go. Then he glanced at Alfred. “We need to make a pit stop.”
“Where?”
“WayneTech.”
Alfred shot him a wary glance. “Lucius would warn you none of those prototypes are ready for use.”
“Says the man driving this car. Lucius is currently being held at gunpoint at the concert hall,” Bruce replied. “I think he’ll forgive us.”
“Not if you don’t make it out of there alive.”
“Come on, Alfred.” Bruce cast his guardian a fleeting smile. “What’s the point of being a billionaire if I can’t have a little fun?” At the withering look on Alfred’s face, he added, “I have to do this. I will do it with or without your help. But with your help, I’ll have a better chance.”
Alfred shook his head. “I first realized you’d be a handful when you accidentally set that old garden toolshed on fire with a blowtorch,” he replied. “Do you remember that? You were thirteen. Five years later, here we are, aiding and abetting you as a fugitive.” His voice lowered. “My job is to keep you safe, Master Wayne. But if that means making sure you don’t try something absurd behind my back, then so be it.”
—
This time, there was no one to greet Bruce as they pulled up to the back entrance of WayneTech—only two streetlights illuminating the road.
Bruce hopped out of the car first. As Alfred followed, Bruce reached the door and put his palm down on the security pad. Please open, he begged it silently. It beeped once, then glowed green, and the door slid open. Bruce let out a breath in relief. Inside, slivers of moonlight sliced the floor into stripes, leaving the rest of the dome-roofed interior bathed in deep blue.
They reached the end of the hall, where a final set of sliding doors waited. Bruce placed his hand on the palm pad again—but this time the pad flashed red. The doors stayed shut.
“It’s not working,” Bruce muttered.
“Allow me,” Alfred said as he came up beside Bruce. He put his own hand out and pressed it against the pad. “Lucius must not have put you in the system yet for this room.”
The pad flashed green, and the doors opened, letting them in. Bruce ran down the halls, eyes scanning each row—until he finally slowed in front of a glass panel displaying the metallic silk outfit inside. With reinforced links like microscopic chain mail, Lucius had said. Not ready for prime time yet, he’d also said—but it was functional, and better than nothing. Bruce glanced at Alfred, who gave him a nod.
“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 hear it.”
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. These aren’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 there myself.”