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The Revelation	By : HeyBats Category: DC Verse Cartoons > Justice League Views: 17695 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 2 – Contingencies

Batman materialized in the transporter pad in the Batcave. While the transporter on the Watchtower could beam anybody to any location on Earth, J’onn had found it minimized the Watchtower’s power consumption to pre-position receiving units in frequented locations (the Cave, a warehouse in Metropolis, etc). Batman stepped out of the pad, took a moment to weigh his next action, then strode up the staircase to the Manor. Having been alerted as to the transporter’s activation, Alfred was waiting for him at the grandfather clock, phone in hand. Despite his long-standing policy to maintain a stiff-upper lip, the white pallor over Alfred’s face betrayed the fear and dread he was obviously experiencing. While the valet had known this day was likely to come since the day Bruce donned the cap and cowl, he’d feared it nonetheless. Now that it had come to pass, Alfred could literally feel the dread manifesting itself like a cold lump of lead in his stomach.

Bruce raised his eyebrow behind the cowl, asking who was on the private line.

“It’s Lucius, Master Bruce, wanting to know if there’s any truth to the rumors the Greek Witch broadcast earlier today.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce muttered, taking the phone. He allowed himself the luxury of a deep breath to settle his thoughts, then as an afterthought, pulled the cowl off his head. He trudged a few steps towards the portrait of his parents hanging in the Great Hall, simultaneously collapsing into an armchair across from his parent’s portrait while moving the receiver up to his ear.

“Lucius, how are you?” he asked in the voice of the Bat. There was a moment of silence on the other end but Bruce could tell by the sound of the man’s breathing that the news had put Lucius somewhat out of sorts. Long accustomed to the airy voice of the playboy, Bruce’s sudden, chilling new tone wasn’t helping calm Lucius’ nerves.

“Bruce? Or should I say Batman?” Lucius chuckled nervously. “Today has been… interesting to say the least. Can you give me something to tell the employees and the shareholders? People are a little worried.”

“Lucius, are you sitting down?” Bruce asked, wincing as he could picture the enormous strain his long-time friend was suddenly undergoing.

“I’m at my desk.” Lucius responded. Bruce could almost feel the dawn of realization flood through his friend’s mind. “It’s true, isn’t it?” Lucius asked in a hushed whisper.

“I wish I could lie and tell you things weren’t as they appear,” Bruce admitted. “But in this case, Circe was dead-on.”

“May I ask why?” Lucius groaned. “Why would you put yourself through all of this?”

“Thomas and Martha Wayne,” Bruce responded in a monotone that made Lucius wince on the other end of the line. “I made a vow to honor their memory the night they died.”

“A little extreme, don’t you think?” Lucius retorted, a sense of gallow’s humor pervading through his tone.

Bruce decided to change the subject. “Lucius, do me a favor while we’re on the phone. Access the Level 5 security screen on your computer.”

He heard the sounds of the keyboard being activated and the response. “I’m in.”

“Type Project Phoenix for the user name, 91939 for the passcode.” Bruce instructed.

The line remained silent for a few seconds, then Bruce heard a low whistle of amazement from the other man. “Bruce, is this what I think it is?”

“The documents should be pretty easy to follow,” Bruce allowed, “But I’ll give you the abbreviated version so that you know my desires. You’re being appointed interim Chairman of Wayne Enterprises. 95% of my holdings are being placed in a charitable trust as we speak. My estate lawyer, Harry Carson, will be calling you in a few minutes. You’ll get to use your discretion of course, but the trust is intended for the benefit of Gotham’s poor, sick, hungry… you get the idea. The other five percent will pay dividends into a blind trust that will pay for my…expenses. There’s a press release that I’ve already signed which explains my version of things. Hopefully it will help but you’re obviously going to be the focus of attention for awhile. The press will obviously have a field day for a year or two, but after that, things will hopefully return to a dull roar.”

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line. “What are you going to do with the Manor?” Lucius asked. “It’s been in your family for five generations.”

“Assuming it’s still standing tomorrow, along with Dr. Leslie Tompkins, you’ll be appointed as the Trustee for an orphanage to be established here at the Manor. Alfred may or may not stay on to help. He’s taken care of me long enough as it is. It’s time for him to do something with a little more…future.”

Bruce’s tone was almost morose with regret when he mentioned Alfred’s name. Lucius caught it. “We’re never going to speak again, are we?”

“I doubt it.” Bruce admitted, pulling the cowl back over his eyes. “After today, Bruce Wayne as you knew him will cease to exist. You’ve always been a good friend, Lucius. I’m sorry to have to surprise you like this, but the exigencies of the position sometimes require additional…responsibilities.”

“That they do.” Lucius chuckled. “Good luck, Bruce.” The line went dead.

Batman placed the phone on the coffee table, then rose out of the chair. He approached his parent’s portrait with grim determination and produced a knife-edge batarang from his belt. Alfred walked into the room and gasped when he saw the result of the action: an empty frame above the mantle. Batman was just finishing tying a small piece of jump-line around the rolled-up portrait when Alfred cleared his throat to signify his presence.

“There is a …gentleman here to see Batman, sir.” Alfred announced. “He said something about a security detail as well as some moving vans.”

“Show him into the observatory, Alfred.” Batman replied.

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Thirty minutes later a large contingent of television stations equipped with satellite relay systems had established a camp in front of the Manor’s iron gates. Curious onlookers had also started to congregate, peering through slots in the ironworks or climbing onto their friend’s shoulders for a better view. Two younger men had already been pushed off the stone parapets on either side of the gates by the security guards that had appeared out of nowhere. Despite their presence, Alfred was worried that a mob mentality would soon overwhelm the guards unless lethal force was authorized.

From his vantage point in the study, Alfred guessed that there were at least 500 people outside the grounds already and that number would probably double within the hour. The sound of footfalls interrupted his observations as Batman escorted the security manager out the front door. He motioned for Alfred to remain in the study as they passed, then returned a minute after the door had closed with a bang.

“Sorry for the interruption...” Batman began.

“What are your plans, Master Bruce?” Alfred inquired, cutting him off.

“There isn’t going to be much need for that… appellation any more, is there?” Batman muttered darkly, trying to find the right term.

“So you intend to be Batman on a full-time basis, I take it?” Alfred replied coldly. “Forgive my impertinence but I’ve never addressed you as Batman in the past nor do I intend to do so in the future. You don’t get to stop being the son of Thomas and Martha simply because your identity has been exposed.”

Batman digested the information, then dismissed the thought with a curt shrug. “We don’t have a lot of time to worry about that. I’m assuming by nightfall, most of the gangs in Gotham will manage to make their way out here looking for me. I don’t intend to be here but I don’t want any innocent bystanders getting hurt. I just gave that man the access codes for the perimeter defense and fire suppression systems. He’ll coordinate things from the computer station in the stables until we’re gone. His people have already established a perimeter outside. I’m hoping their presence will serve as an interim deterrent. Some moving vans and transports should arrive soon at the stable entrance. They’re going to transport most of the cars and furniture to a warehouse for interim storage. I don’t think the press knows about that entrance. There’s a good chance we can donate most of it to orphanages around Gotham. Hopefully the Manor will still be standing in the morning to move the rest. In the interim, it would be a great help if you can put a sheet of paper or something to mark the most valuable things. I’ll let you handle it.”

“What happens if the mob breaks in while we’re packing?” Alfred interrupted.

“I honestly have no idea. They’ll probably burn it to the ground like a Salem witch trial if they’re given a chance. If they do, the Wayne Foundation can rebuild an orphanage later on this site. I think my parents would have liked that.”

Alfred nodded in approval at the plan, then detected a flaw. “You’re not allowing the guards use of the Cave computers?” Alfred asked, eyebrow raised in surprise.

“In a few hours, the Cave will self-destruct.” Batman replied. “I don’t want to take the chance that if somebody finds it in the future it could be turned into some kind of amusement park.”

“What about the equipment? The Batmobiles?” Alfred asked with concern. “The museum?”

“I’ve already backed up all of my files on the Watchtower mainframe.” Batman replied dryly. “The rest is replaceable.”

“Won’t the Manor collapse into the hole you’re going to create if you implode the Cave?” Alfred asked dubiously.

“I’m assuming 100 feet of granite will hold.” Batman replied with a shrug. “If not, the Manor will help fill the hole.”

“What about Barbara and Tim? Have you thought about them? Your son is also going to have to face a number of questions over in Bludhaven. After all, your adoption of Dick Grayson is a matter of public record. It won’t be hard for people to draw a line between him and the original Robin.”

“Barbara and Tim have no connection to Bruce Wayne. We’ll decide later whether they attempt to carry on the mission here in Gotham. In the meantime, they’re in no immediate danger.” Bruce took a deep breath. “As for Dick, he’s my next call. I’m hoping he’ll join the League on a full-time basis. His career in Bludhaven is over.”

“As usual, Batman has thought of everything.” Alfred observed dryly. “I’m assuming you’ve developed a contingency plan for me as well?”

“There’s a chalet in Switzerland in your name as well as a numbered account with twenty million dollars already in it.” Batman replied, reaching behind his desk. He handed over a card inscribed with the account information as well as a copy of the deed for the Swiss estate. “The chalet is yours to do with as you please. For your safety, I’d prefer you that you and Leslie transport to the Watchtower with me. If you prefer, stay at Leslie’s house tonight, help her pack, then come to the Watchtower first thing in the morning. If the press finds either of you, you don’t have enough plausible deniability to say that you didn’t know of my… nighttime activities. Worse than the press, you’ll be a target for all of my enemies. If you’re not out of Gotham by the morning, the two of you will be dead.”

“With all due respect, I have no desire to be a prisoner of circumstance for the rest of my life.” Alfred protested.

Batman laid a hand sympathetically on the man’s shoulder. “Humor me, Alfred, this one last time. Come to the Watchtower for a few days until another news story supplants this one in the headlines. The public has a pretty short attention span. Soon they’ll worry about something else. After that you’re free to travel the world or do anything else you would like. Please don’t force me to take…protective measures to ensure your safety.”

“You wouldn’t?” Alfred whispered furiously, emphatically poking the larger man in the chest to show his determination.

“I can and I will.” Batman replied with a snarl. He leaned in to intimidate the smaller man in a manner similar to the way Batman had intimidated all of Gotham’s thugs for the past decade. Realizing he’d overstepped his bounds, he dropped his head in resignation. “Please, Alfred. Do me this one last favor…”

Alfred weighed the gravity of the Dark Knight’s expression for a few moments. Realizing any further dispute was pointless, he backed down. “Give me a few minutes to pack some things, then I’ll start prioritizing the furniture.”

“Don’t take anything bigger than I can put on the transporter or in the Batwing,” the cowled figure growled. “We don’t have big closets on the Watchtower.”

“I’ll meet you in the Cave in a few moments.” The butler replied loftily, then spun on his heels to head upstairs.

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During the initial improvements to the Cave, Batman had installed a number of security devices including motion, pressure and infra-red sensors, all of which were keyed into the Cray mainframe which served as the Cave’s primary operating system. Unable to hire a security firm to aid with the installation, he’d performed most of the work himself, occasionally enlisting Alfred or the Bat-family members to help with the odd job. For defense, Batman initially installed a number of non-lethal devices including grappling nets as well as low-voltage taser systems designed to stun trespassers. He’d even researched habits of the Cave’s original denizens, designing a batarang which emitted an ultra-sonic frequency in the same range as their favorite food groups: moths. Even his League teammates were shocked when Batman had enlisted the help of the bats in the Cave to attack the Thanagarians.

As Gotham’s criminals became more powerful and more sophisticated, Batman realized he needed a fail-safe to back-up all of the non-lethal systems. His solution was simple yet elegant: 1,000 pounds of C-4 plastique explosive pre-set in strategic locations throughout the Cave. Only a fail-safe code delivered directly to the mainframe or a back-up signal activated from his belt could activate the fail-safe.

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In the Manor, Batman turned and tucked his parent’s portrait under his arm. He pulled open the glass case then moved the clock hands to 10:47, opening the door behind the grandfather clock. It took a few moments to navigate the dark passage downstairs then he arrived at the computer station. Settling into his chair, he activated the Cray mainframe with a simple voice command. The time on the monitor indicated it was already 5:30 in the evening, about 45 minutes away from EET (End of Evening Twilight) where human eyes could no longer see without assistance. It was also the most likely moment for his enemies to initiate an attack.

His hands flew over the keyboard at lightning speed, pulling up a contingency plan he’d developed years before in case this event ever occurred. The print-out confirmed he’d followed his protocol so far, then he picked up the hot-line when it buzzed next to him.

“Dick.”

“How did you know it was me?” Dick chortled. “There are others who have this number, you know.”

“Lucky guess. See the news?”

“Yeah, hard to miss. Captain of my squad called me into his office at lunch, then asked me if I wanted to tell him anything. He had ‘The Look’, you know?

“I know.” Batman replied, wincing as he imagined the discomfort Dick must have felt.

“Anyway, he turned on the news,” Dick continued, “and there was Circe, babbling on about who you were. Captain was nice enough to escort me to the door before it got out, told me to thank Nightwing for looking after Bludhaven for the past few years, then told me to take a few sick days, no questions asked.”

“The press will probably track you down within the hour,” Batman replied. “Want a pickup from a ‘Wing or straight transport to the Watchtower?”

“I’ll just meet you at the Tower’.” Dick muttered. “I’ll cover my tracks here then call J’onn for transport.”

“See you there.” Bruce replied, then thought better before he hung up. “Hey, Dick.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry…about all this.”

“It was inevitable.” Dick replied cheerily. “We had a good run while it lasted. Besides, Bludhaven was getting on my nerves...the weather sucked.”

The phone clicked off in Batman’s ear. Wearily, he sat back in his chair then raised the list to inspect the next item on the agenda. He could feel a kink of tension developing in his neck. Groaning with discomfort, he started lolling his head from side to side to relieve the stress. Suddenly, a pair of hands appeared around his neck. Instinctively, he reached behind him, twisting one of the attacker’s wrists in order to gain leverage when Diana shouted,“Bruce, it’s me!”

“Diana!” he stammered in surprise. Releasing his wrist lock, he scrambled out of his chair. “How did you get in here?”

“YOU gave me the access code when I lived here a year ago...” She replied angrily. Cradling her wrist, she winced in amazement that a man with no extraphysical powers had managed to cause such pain, temporary or not. “Remember, after you kamikazed the first Watchtower?”

He looked at her warily. “Must have forgotten to change the codes.”

“Doesn’t sound like the Batman I know.” She retorted. “Why did you try to break my arm?”

“Thought you were an intruder.” He replied defensively. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a lynch mob waiting outside.”

“I HAD noticed.” She replied with a frown. “I… I should say WE, are here to help.”

“Who is WE?” he asked doubtfully.

Lantern and Superman strode out of the darkness of the Cave and revealed themselves under a floodlight. “What can we do to help?” John Stewart asked.

“Can your ring dig a trench through one hundred feet of granite then lift the Manor and the Cave out of the trench?”

“How long do I have?” Lantern replied, mentally calculating the power such an operation would require.

“Hour, maybe less.”

“No way.” John replied. “That is, not if you want it intact.”

“It doesn’t do me much good in pieces now, does it?” Batman replied testily.

“Now hold on, Batman.” Superman interrupted. “We’re just trying to help.”

“Then help me by getting out of my way.” Batman replied. “I’m going to blow up the Cave, so unless you want to help Alfred catalog the furniture and cars upstairs, then you’re no good to me.”

“What kind of cars?” John and Superman asked simultaneously.

“Classics,” Batman replied with a dismissive wave. “Take your pick. I won’t be needing them.” He stole a glance at Superman for a moment. “It would look kind of odd though if Lois saw you driving a 57 Bentley Roadster around Metropolis on a reporter’s salary.”

“How did you know that’s the one I wanted?” Superman asked in surprise.

“Every farm boy’s dream to drive a car like that.” Batman observed wryly.

“I’ll probably put it in my parent’s barn or the Fortress.” Superman admitted sheepishly. He looked at Lantern, who answered him with an embarrassed shurg, then the two men then flew up the stairs to the Manor.

Diana watched them go with a smile appearing in the corner of her mouth. “You’re giving your teammates your car collection?”

“Do you want one?” Batman replied, settling back into the chair while scanning his list. “There’s an 61’ Mercedes convertible that I always thought suited you.”

“That’s very kind,” She replied dryly. “But in case you hadn’t notice, I don’t have many driving needs.”

“Batmobile, Batwing?”

“Stop it Bruce. You’re stalling.”

He paused, then a hollow laugh that felt like fingernails on the chalkboard to Diana’s ears escaped his mouth. “I guess I am. Computer, confirm auto-destruct sequence for the Cave.”

“Confirmed,” the mechanical voice crackled back. “Time to auto-destruct?”

“Two hours.” Batman replied wearily, then spun in his chair to face Diana. “Happy?”

“I’ve watched your whole world collapse around you today,” Diana replied, sorrow etched on her face. “I don’t think happy is the word I’d choose.”

“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered, rising from the chair. “Alfred probably needs some help upstairs.” He started trudging up the steps to the Manor, Diana at his side. He almost recoiled with shock when she slipped her hand into his. Pausing at a step, he managed to give hers a little squeeze before keying the door to open the Manor. Pausing to take one last sentimental look at the Cave, Diana blurted, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“Causing all of this.”

“I was Batman before we met, Princess.” He noted dryly. “You don’t get to take the blame for that.”

“I meant that I’m sorry Circe’s price was so high.” He looked at her sharply, as if stung, but Diana quickly continued before he could react. “Zatanna told me after you left the Watchtower. You shouldn’t have done it…the price was too high.”

“The important thing is you’re safe,” he replied with a weary shrug, then eased her through the door leading to the Manor.

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The Revelation