Two men in blue police uniforms climbed out of a van and hurriedly unloaded several bags of plastic explosives, timed devices, and detonators. These they passed to the men waiting in their prison white uniforms. As one massive working unit, they started placing the bombs on the walls surrounding the grounds and the massive iron gate at the entrance.

Inside Blackgate, an alarm sounded seconds before the cell doors opened. Slowly, the inmates crept out, many curious about what was going on, some wary about it being some sort of trap, and others simply delighted at someone springing them from their cages.

Deep in the bowels of the penitentiary, a man sat in his solitary cell, laughing a deep, throaty laugh as he realized the night wasn't gonna be as boring as he believed. Of course, the pleasure of that night's revelries belonged to someone else. Someone who possessed a little less pizazz and flare than him. Still gonna be a gas! He giggled as he grasped hold of the bars that covered his window and stared out at the city that didn't yet know its intended fate.

Oh, but they'd find out soon enough. Yes, they, along with his dear Dark Knight would discover what was in store for them. He almost wished he could see the looks on their faces when the cat was finally let outta the bag! His high-pitched cackle echoed through the prison, chilling all who heard it, and adding to the worry of the prison staff.

The inmates slowly made their way out into the exercise yard. Some stayed in tight little groups. Some chose to stand off to one side. Some chose to wait by the doors for the guards to come and return them to their cells. All of them looked around, wondering what was going to happen next, and dreading it. A few of the more daring made their way to the gates, anticipating being stopped at any minute by men in white uniforms with thick clubs, and thanking their lucky stars when nobody appeared.

A sudden, almost deafening explosion shattered the quiet less than a minute after they reached the gates. A chunk of the back wall spun across the yard and slammed against the side of the building, taking out those who unwittingly huddled against it. Dust and debris covered everyone and everything.

Visibility was non-existent for several moments. Many inmates rubbed at their eyes, trying to clear away the smoke and dirt so they could see while others checked themselves for small cuts and abrasions.

When the dust settled, they all saw the large hole blown into the wall. It was large enough that four average-sized men could easily pass through without having to scrunch together. A few, mostly those who made for the gates, ran for the hole and fled out into the dark street. The others followed at a much more sedate pace.

They stepped out onto the street with a great deal more trepidation, many of them believing their newly obtained freedom was going to come with a hefty price tag attached…

…

Police Commissioner James "Jim" Gordon was in the front entry of the GCPD and talking with his longtime partner, Harvey Bullock when a sound, like that of a bomb, shattered the relative peace and quiet of the evening. Through the front windows, he saw a burst of flame shoot high into the sky. Less than a second later it was followed by great, billowing clouds of thick smoke.

"What'n hell was that?" Bullock's tone was sharp with shock and dismay. "Did that come from Blackgate?"

Gordon called out orders as he raced for the exit.

"Someone call Blackgate and ask what the status is!"

"On it!" Someone shouted. "What else?"

"Go up to the roof and turn on the Batsignal! Have a feeling we are gonna need every hand tonight!"

"I'll do it, sir!" A detective by the name of Tate called as he raced up the stairs.

"Markinson, Davis, with me!" Gordon pointed at a dispatcher just arriving for their shift. "Smith, get all units out to Blackgate! Tell them full riot control!"

"Yes, Commissioner!"

"Jim!" Harvey shouted above the noise. "What about the sprocket?"

That got Gordon to pause. He turned towards his longtime partner.

"Can you take Raya to Wayne Towers?"

"The Wayne Foundation?" Bullock stared at him in bewilderment. "Why's the sprocket staying at Wayne Towers and not Wayne Manor?"

"Because Bruce Wayne is staying in his penthouse while repairs are being made to Wayne Manor." Gordon glanced back at Harvey, his hand on the doorknob. "Can you take her, Harvey?"

He only faintly heard Harvey's reply as he rushed out the door. "Of course, Jim."

…

What was that? Raya wondered as she turned her head to look out the dingy window of her uncle's cramped office in the GCPD. Police flashers tossed eerie shadows as squad cars screamed out of the underground parking garage and raced down the road towards Gotham Bay. She pushed away from her uncle's desk and slowly rose to walk over and stare out at the city. They're heading towards Blackgate, she thought, eyes narrowing behind the lenses of the silver framed glasses she wore. Gee, do I even need to guess why?

"Hey, sprocket," a gruff voice spoke behind her. "What're you doing?"

Raya turned to see Detective Harvey Bullock in the doorway, his tan trench coat over his left arm and his very faded, but much-loved brown fedora perched atop his head. She had grown suspicious and wary of those who served in her uncle's unit after her near kidnapping by a group of rogue detectives and officers led by Matthew Branson.

Harvey Bullock and a young detective named Ethan Tate were the only two in her uncle's command she trusted without a shadow of doubt. Both men were on the up and up. Each served the people of Gotham to the best of their abilities, sometimes pretending to do terrible things simply because that was how good a cop they both were.

"I heard the explosion." She nodded towards the window. "I was trying to see what happened."

"You already know what happened, kiddo."

"Yeah." Her lips twitched, curved. "Something went ka-boom."

"See?" He didn't smile, but there was a slight twinkle in his eyes that revealed his amusement. "You know what happened."

"Not like things blowing up is all that unusual in Gotham."

"When things ain't blowing up is when you need to start worrying, kiddo."

Raya couldn't disagree with his observation. Like others who lived in Gotham all their lives, she knew when the city was its most quiet was when it was its most dangerous. She learned that lesson when she was eight. Looks were deceiving in Gotham. And the people you thought you could trust, who you thought you could go to in your hour of need, well, they could be the very people you needed the most protection from.

She once told Dick Grayson that, "The bad guys are often the ones wearing the badges."

Dick hadn't believed her until he saw the crime and corruption infecting the GCPD for himself. All of Gotham was corrupt, though. There were an innumerable amount of shady deals and clandestine meetings going on in Gotham's seedy underbelly.

She'd wager that a half-dozen acts of violence were being perpetrated behind the closed doors of homes in the Bristol District, as well as in the shadier sections of Crime Alley, Park Row, and the Diamond District.

Nightclubs that hid their sleazy trade in human flesh were opening their doors to their exclusive clientele.

Munition deals were going down at the docks, drugs sold to corporate fat cats in various parking lots, and gang hits were being planned in dark alleys for turf.

The Falcone's and the Maroni's would be sliding envelopes stuffed full of cash to those cops on their payroll.

Two-Face would be holding court in whatever underground hovel the former poster boy of Gotham could find to preside over while the Penguin would be pouring drinks and serving up some feathered beauties in his Iceberg Lounge.

"So," she said as a helicopter flew by. "Did Uncle Jim ask you to stop in and make sure that I was actually doing my homework before you join him at Blackgate?"

"He ain't ever had to lecture you about doing your homework." He tightened his grip on his fedora. "No, he asked me to take you to Wayne Towers."

Raya had suspected home would be the Wayne Penthouse after her uncle told her to bring an overnight bag with her to the precinct. It made sense, though. Barbara was spending the night with friends so there would be nobody home with her. It wasn't like she minded the arrangement. Far from it. It gave her a chance to see her best friend and spend time with Alfred. I can also work on my science project while I'm there.

"C'mon, sprocket, get your stuff so I can get you home."

"Do you think it's a prison break?" she asked as she stepped over to the desk and slid her textbook into her backpack. "I saw a lot of police cruisers heading towards Blackgate."

Harvey heaved a heavy sigh.

"Yeah," he finally admitted with a nod. "It looks like a prison break"

"Shouldn't you get out there to help?"

"I will after I make sure you get home safe and sound."

"I can call Mr. Pennyworth." She fiddled with the strap of her bag. "He can always come and get me so you can get out to help Uncle Jim."

"Look, kiddo." Bullock pointed out the window to where the Batsignal shone against the night sky. "Batman's already been called to help deal with the situation. So, quit worrying."

"Okay." Raya nodded and slid the strap of her bag up her arm. "He's not gonna be out there alone then."

"Nope, he ain't." He pulled on his coat. "Ready?

"Yup."

"C'mon then."

...

In the bunker he recently had built beneath Wayne Towers, Bruce Wayne slowly transformed himself from the resident playboy he presented to the public into the costumed hero that struck terror into the hearts of Gotham's criminal sect. He was in no hurry since he trusted Gordon and his battalion of cops could keep whatever was happening out at Blackgate under control until he got there.

He pulled on his infamous suit of matte-black body armor made of reinforced Kevlar bi-weave fabric and fire-retardant Nomex, the black tights, gloves and arm gauntlets with the metal fins, and a cape he'd use to glide into the prison once he ejected from his chosen mode of transportation for that evening: the Batplane. He buckled the gold utility belt around his waist before he sat to pull on his steel-tipped black boots.

Then he reached for the last item needed to complete his transformation: the cowl that had become his trademark.

He regarded the mask for a moment, staring at the black pointy ears, the empty eye holes, the gaping area where his chin and mouth would be the only parts visible once he slid the mask into place. The focus of his study was not so much on the mask itself, but what it represented: secrets.

Inside this one piece of Batman's arsenal rest a million secrets.

Batman's secrets.

Bruce Wayne's secrets.

The cowl had become both the cloak and the dagger, and each had cut him deeply over the course of his extensive career as a crime fighter. If he regretted anything, it was that several the choices he had made had deeply affected the lives of his family and closest friends.

He scowled at the mask as dozens of memories surfaced and reminded him of nights where he failed to protect those he cared about. Again, he asked himself the question that had started plaguing him days ago: was Batman the solution to Gotham's problem or was it the problem?

He found he no longer knew the answer as he pulled the mask over his head.

"Are you sure that you don't want me tagging along tonight?" Dick Grayson asked as he loitered around the entrance to the changing area. "You could end up needing my help, yanno."

"You are helping by waiting here for Raya," he told him. "She will be home soon."

That got a sigh and a roll of the eyes.

"Raya's kinda used to me going out with you on calls now." A mischievous light danced in his blue eyes. "Yanno, she'd tell you that Batman needs Robin with him tonight. That it is his sworn and sacred duty to make sure that our silent guardian returns home safe and sound."

If not for the seriousness of the situation, he might have found himself amused at that subtle bit of manipulation.

"You can't go with me, chum."

"Why not?"

"Tonight's different," he explained as patiently as he could. "That's why."

"Why is tonight different from any other night?" One dark brow lifted. "Do you know something about what is happening at Blackgate that I don't?"

"No."

How was he to explain to Dick he had been plagued all evening by feelings of unease? A sort of anticipation that went deep down into his very bones? As if he could feel something bad was about to happen? He just didn't have any clue about what that something about to happen could be. And he didn't like it.

At all.

"Then why do you want me to stay here? Wouldn't it be better if I was out there and handling the small stuff?"

He should have known Dick wouldn't let the subject go easily. He had been questioning him about decisions and things a lot more lately. It made him a good Robin. Even if it annoys me to no end…

"I have a feeling that whatever is going on at Blackgate could really just be a prelude to a larger and far more catastrophic event."

"Sooooo..." One of Dick's trademark grins flashed. "That's different from any other night, how?"

It was a logical question. Mayhem and Gotham were synonymous with each other. However, just because it was a good point didn't mean he appreciated hearing it. Especially in that cheeky tone. He sent Dick a warning look that the teen ignored. As he always does.

"I want you and Raya here manning the computer and police bands with Alfred," he said. "We need to be ready for whatever else might happen tonight. And if Batman is unable to respond to whatever is going on..."

"Robin needs to be ready too." Dick sighed and nodded. "I got it. I'll keep an eye out and be ready for whatever else might happen."

"Thank you, chum."

Batman then strode over to where the Batplane hovered just a few inches above its landing platform. He climbed into the cockpit and took hold of the controls. Powerful engines roared to life as a steel canopy hissed shut above the cockpit. A few seconds later and the stealth aircraft thundered into the sky and headed towards Gotham Bay.

A/N: Hello, all and welcome!

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