It proved that Batman being DC editorial's golden child was beyond dispute. No matter the environment, no matter the circumstances, Batman always found a way out.
After tossing all the finished fish traps to Arthur, Bruce began using the remaining fiber rope and wooden sticks to make a rope ladder. The ladder could be lowered from the cave platform, so they would not have to inch their way down along the protrusions in the cliff face.
Once he finished the rope ladder, Bruce made a set of metal tools. They were far superior to the metal scraps Arthur had hammered out with stones. The metal edges were ground extremely sharp, with just the right shapes and sizes. The wooden handles had been carefully measured to suit the proper force-bearing motions, and the wood had been polished smooth for a comfortable grip.
With the tools complete, it was naturally time to consider using them to improve the living conditions here. Hal watched Bruce busying himself and walked over to ask, "How did you get here? By plane? Where is your plane?"
"What are you trying to do?" Bruce looked up at Hal with considerable wariness. "The crash log for the Batjet I lent you says you crashed my plane..."
"How could that be?! Schiller was the one who pressed the button!" Hal raised his voice, only to see the look on Bruce's face that said, Just as I thought. Hal shook his head in frustration, realizing he had been tricked into talking again.
"So you really did come by plane. Then why are you staying here?" Hal asked.
"Then why are you staying here?" Bruce countered.
Hal glanced at Schiller, who was still tending to Oliver's wounds, and sighed. "If I said I don't want to stay here, would you take