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Part Fifteen: Chapter 109: Venting

Bruce knew that Penguin's annual Halloween party would be a gathering of his rogues gallery. He couldn't resist getting dressed up so he could discreetly have a look around to see if any wanted felons attended. Afterwards Batman would make an appearance and apprehend who needed to be. However, there was but one criminal that Bruce was actually looking for. He knew that the Joker wouldn't turn down the chance to go to a party with his fellow business associates and peers.

Bruce stood in front of a renaissance era suit of armor. It wasn't a dull pewter grey like the other eleven armor suits that lined the hall. This one was solid black and had an intricate coat of arms painted in red on the chest. It had supposedly belonged to Lancelot when he was a Knight of the Round Table in King Arthur's Court. It wasn't exactly priceless, but rest assured that it cost more than anyone but a billionaire could affort.

Alfred approached him, carrying a twelfth century jousting lance. "Master Bruce, I do wish you wouldn't wear priceless relics as Halloween costumes."

Bruce cracks a half smile, "All things considered, I don't think Lancelot will mind."

Alfred sighs, "Have you any idea how much your father spent on this? It took him seven years just to track it down, then an additional two years trying to convince the owner to part with it," Alfred tells him.

"Well, it's my collection now," Bruce simply says, still admiring the armor. "It looks heavy."

"I'm sure it is master Bruce," Alfred says as he scratched his head.

"It certainly isn't functional or practical in the twenty first century," Bruce says as he starts to remove the arm piece from the stand. That one piece alone must have weighed close to fifteen pounds. Alfred helped Bruce remove the rest of the armor from the stand, piece by piece.

It took Bruce and Alfred over an hour to try to get all the pieces of the suit on and secured. Alfred held the helmet in his hands as Bruce took a step. He staggered, not expecting how incredibly difficult it would be. "I think I understand how these actually saved lives. They couldn't move around to attack each other. The chain mail alone weighs so much you wouldn't believe it. Can you see Batman trying to work with this?" He asks looking down at himself.

"Only if the criminals sported swords and not guns," Alfred tells him as he stands in a chair to lower the helmet down on Bruce's head.

Bruce flips down the visor on it. "How do I look he asks, his voice now quite muffled.

"I don't suppose Lancelot himself could have worn it any better sir," he says, taking a step back for a more complete look.

"Thank God I have a driver tonight," Bruce mumbles and starts to move slowly towards the door and tried to get a feel for the armor.

He couldn't look so awkward at the party. He didn't need the unwanted extra attention. If it wasn't for the possibility of the Joker being present, Bruce could attend the party as himself. The Joker knowing Bruce and Batman were one in the same sort of put him between a rock and a hard place. He could let everyone except the Joker see him.

When Bruce arrived at the Iceberg Lounge he tried to move as quietly as he could to keep the clanking of the metal to a minimum. He identified several of the party goers on his way in. Once inside he could identify even more. He was making his way around the outer edge of the club when he stopped dead in his tracks.