Gotham's morning fog was as thick as molten lead that refused to disperse.
But today, there were no gunshots or sirens over the ruins of Lake Street. Brand-new walls of dark red brick rose from the ground, and the enormous Dome Library shimmered in the morning light.
The gold-lettered gates of Gotham Hope Academy stood open. Outside, countless media cameras flashed in a white sea.
Parents from the slums led their children by the hand, stepping gingerly onto the smooth asphalt, their eyes filled with an almost reverent apprehension. To them, this wasn't a school. It was heaven.
Dick Grayson walked between his parents with a new backpack on his shoulders.
John and Mary gazed at the spacious rubber-surfaced sports ground in the distance, repeating Bruce Wayne's name over and over. Dick said nothing. He breathed in air free of engine oil and animal dung, his blue eyes darting around.
No tightropes. No tattered tents. Studying here might not be so bad.
Screeech-
A piercing squeal of brakes abruptly tore through the commotion at the school gates.
A black stretch Lincoln brazenly rolled through a puddle at the intersection and stopped squarely in front of the gates. Several reporters taking pictures scrambled backward in fright. Once they recognized the license plate, the crowd erupted.
The door swung open, and Mr. Drake stepped out with a grim expression, followed by Mrs. Drake. Finally, Tim Drake emerged calmly, dressed in understated but impeccably tailored casual clothes, a shoulder bag slung over him.
The camera flashes instantly went wild.
"My God! That's Jack Drake! The CEO of Drake Industries!"
"Has he lost his mind? Sending his only son to school in the East End slums?!"
"What did Wayne Enterprises offer him?"
The impoverished parents around them backed away, avoiding the family as though