Streaking through the Sol system, a small unidentifiable object could be seen trailing through open space.

Strangely enough, its trajectory changed once it entered the system, curving in its path until it was set to collide with the Earth.

If one were to look closely, they'd see that the object was clearly unnatural in both shape and composition and seemed to be more like a pod than a meteor or comet, and its smooth cylindrical shape only made it more likely.

...

Meanwhile, in the city of sin where men never sleep, Bruce Wayne, one of the few Billionaires, Entrepreneurs, Philanthropists, and playboys of Earth, could be seen sitting in a small booth, looking over a woman wearing a rather...fitting outfit performing 'Magic' on stage before a rather large audience.

He watched her for hours and hours until it soon became too late in the night when she finally said her goodbyes to the audience and walked off stage.

Getting up from his chair, he left the VIP booth.

...

Meanwhile, in Gotham, a certain butler could be found cleaning a rather large mansion all by himself with far more grace and skill than any man could ever hope to achieve in his lifetime.

This butler was none other than Alfred, Wayne's personnel butler and closest friend.

It was Alfred who raised and taught Bruce after his parents passed away. It was Alfred who was always there for Bruce when he needed him.

While Alfred liked to think of himself as just a butler, he was not. He was something like a father to Bruce, and while Bruce could get distracted by his nightly activities, he always worried about the health of his closest friend, who was now in his late 60s.

With Bruce gone for the next few days, Alfred had nothing but time.

He easily cleaned the whole mansion, restocked the pantries, and left not even a single speck of dust or dirt.

He even went so far as to clean each and every one of the expensive cars Bruce had in his garage, and even then, he was done by the afternoon.

With nothing else to do, he walked into a seemingly average hallway where he pressed his hand against the wall.

The tile where he placed his hand seemed to sink before a rather loud sound echoed down the hall, revealing an elevator and a set of stairs.

Without any hesitation, Alfred chose the stairs, preferring the workout that he sorely needed for his age to stay fit.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he stepped into the infamous Bat Cave.

A location very few knew about, and even fewer could freely enter.

Not waiting for even a moment, Alfred began to clean all of the very expensive equipment, only to notice a blinking notification on one of the many computer screens that lined one of the walls.

Not recognizing the name flashing on the screen, he found his eyes drifting until they settled on another.

A young circus boy. Orphaned parents killed by Gangsters. Currently in Juevie.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Sighing, Alfred remarked, "Master Bruce, I hope you know what you are doing..."

That's when Alfred noticed a peculiar name and address.

"A Cafe? If he wanted coffee, all he did was have to ask," Alfred wondered out loud, growing curious as to why this cafe would catch his master's attention. Perhaps he would pay the Cafe a visit?

...

Meanwhile, in an abandoned factory, a man could be seen tinkering with a round device with clear antennas sticking out from the top and back of the machine that was all directed to face behind the machine.

The front had a metal grating where a large camera, loudspeaker, and strange nozzle were placed.

Connecting a few wires to some hidden ports, the man pushed away from the table with their rolling chair and stopped at a strange box computer that appeared far older than anything that was available these days.

The green screen flickered to life as the man got to work, running diagnostics on the machine and running a last couple of tests.

Cursing about the battery levels and the fact that he had no 'Fusion Batteries, ' the man simply said, 'Fuck it,' and activated the machine.

The machine began to whirl to life before suddenly lifting off the table.

For seconds, it floated in the air before suddenly sparking and falling onto the table harshly.

Cursing, the man deactivated the machine and quickly got up to examine it for any damage.

Peeling off a few panels, he got a good look at its internals to find a few circuit boards and wires had burned and short-circuited.

Cursing, the man let go of the machine.

"Just great. Now I need to replace everything," The man cursed.

Walking back over to the terminal, the man began to note everything that had occurred and what he had observed.

"I need a better workshop and tools," The man stated with a frown as he looked upon the makeshift Eyebot on his workbench.

Putting the eyebot to the side, the man pulled out a strange futuristic gun with copper writing running along the outside of it.

Its appearance was more similar to a large and strange sidearm than anything else, with a large boxular barrel, a trigger guard that is attached to the front and bottom of the barrel that goes straight down where another bar is extended from the bottom of the grip.

It had simple iron sights, seemingly no magazine.

Disassembling it and examining everything inside of it, he began muttering, "Need to get a better battery...focusing crystal pattern needs to be improved...photonic focusing chamber seems good...won't know the wavelength, focus, and strength of the beam until I test it...but how am I going to get a better battery? A fusion battery at that...?"

Leaving the gun disassembled on the table, he pulled up some empty blueprints and began to think before working on a blueprint.

"Let's see...will need lead...copper, iron, titanium..." The man began to list out as he worked on making the blueprints of what could only be described as a literal nuclear fusion power generator.

...

In the sewers of Gotham, a certain Killer Croc could be seen in the middle dragging garbage and other materials into a large empty room.

Scouring through the trash, he picked out whatever electronics he could and began making a pile.

Whatever he found not to be valuable, like plastics, rotted wood, or whatever other trash of little worth that ended up in the sewer system, he bagged up and carried out of the sewers and proceeded to take it to a recycling plant he had a deal with, earning himself a bit of cash that he used to get other things he needed.

Within hours, that large open room hidden within the sewers had a functioning Terminal, space heaters, and a very inefficient gas generator.

For now, the Terminal would not be of much use, but once he connects with some sort of antenna or network, then the homeless he built this shelter for would gain access to the internet.

Though Killer Croc was contemplating adding other defensive natures to these homeless shelters, he was building from the trash discarded by the residents of Gotham City as there were many dangers that lurked within the shadows of Gotham's streets, and the sewers proved to be far safer for the Homeless than the communities they made on the surface.

The question was, what kind of defensive measures could he take?

Sentry Turrets?

No. Bullets would be too expensive. No, it didn't have to be bullets. All he needed was some kind of method to propel objects to lethal speeds; bullets were not required, and even small bits of metal could be dangerous if launched fast enough.

As Killer Croc got lost in thought while he moved fourteen of the homeless into their new home, he considered making some kind of...Homeless Alliance.

There are thousands of homeless people living in Gotham, and Gotham has one of the highest homeless populations.

If he had help, perhaps he could provide homes for all of them. Provide protection, food, and shelter?

He may be hated, but he considered the homeless family...kin. Why shouldn't he help those who had helped him when he needed it? Even if it could sometimes be thankless...