Help Me, Mr Batman

Currently editing the entirety of Help Me, Mr. Batman. I wrote it when I was like 14 and now I'm in my 20s. Please be patient with the construction. I'll label the edited chapters with an asterisk so you know what's completed and where to stop.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bruce Wayne, DC comics or the lovely Chris Nolan trilogy. I do however own a lot of the plot and Kaine because they came from me.

                                                   Chapter 1

                                                        Bruce

Exhaustion sunk deep into his bones as he leaned heavily against the elevator wall. The elevator creaked harshly as it shook itself up to the first floor of Wayne Manor. With each inch going up, the elevator left behind the horrid night Bruce left behind. His body ached physically and mentally. It felt like every criminal in Gotham had escaped Arkham and decided to prowl last night.

He huffs with annoyance when he admits to himself that this in fact was the case. A year ago today the Joker released what felt like every hard caught criminal from Arkham. Bruce rubs his sunken eyes with his thumb and pointer finger as lays his head back against the elevator wall.

Hopefully, he thinks to himself, he can get much earned sleep. Insomnia and nightmares fought him every morning but at this point he was perfectly okay drugging himself to sleep. Maybe he can keep his talk with Alfred quick, he pondered. Bruce had already cleaned up any bruises and cuts that Alfred could possibly fuss over.

He blinked his eyes into focus as the elevator settled to a stop and prepped to open the doors. His thoughts were eating away at him. Something was happening in Gotham behind the scenes. He knew something was happening. The crime was becoming too organized. It wasn't just petty thefts, drug deals, and robberies. Whispers and talks were going around Gotham. The thugs were getting bigger it felt like. One hit him with a block of concrete last night.

He shook the migraine building in his head. With a wince, he reminded himself to get some pain killers for that. Can't feel it when I'm knocked out, Bruce contemplates with another wishful thought towards sleep.

The old elevator shaft doors slide open to reveal a stern faced Alfred. Bruce freezes before taking a step out of the elevator. He knew that face. He had been avoiding his business side for a week now and it looked like Alfred was not going to let him go this time.

"Yes, Alfred?" Bruce asks while trying to side step around him. Alfred was not budging.

"Sir, I have been trying to talk to you for weeks about this meeting. It's rather important." Alfred says, "This cannot wait any longer."

Bruce was quick to dismiss him, "Whatever it is can wait until after I've slept away this migraine. I've been busy with the entirety of Gotham's criminal system."

The Dark Knight managed to slip past Alfred and start down the hall to his room. Alfred followed close behind as the grandfather clock closed over the secret passage. "Sir, I need you to listen to me this instant. I've pushed back every meeting I can but unfortunately today is the day you meet her. I've already prepared her room but as her foster father you-"

Bruce froze for the second time. He turned to face Alfred with sleep all but forgotten in his mind. "Alfred, what are you talking about? Who is 'her' and why are you referring to me as a foster father?"

Alfred stops just in front of Bruce's towering figure. Shock blooms across Alfred's face. "Oh dear, you don't remember, do you?"

Bruce takes a step forward towards Alfred. "Alfred, what don't I remember? Who is her?" Bruce demands to know, starting to like where this conversation was going. He narrows his eyes when Alfred looks away from him to look at the manor's entryway clock that hung below them.