I wait until the sounds fade, sensing already that this is another of many issues that I'll need to address upon my return. Not twelve hours in another dimension, and the only recurring theme seems to be the one and the same that I've carried on my shoulders for years. Fighting crime is a straightforward task, a matter of an observant eye and ear, and a willingness to press forward even in the most dire of circumstances. If anything, it's too simple to get lost in such a goal, to lose sense of perspective as one's aim narrows to pair of unrepentant eyes. It's those who help to shape my perspective who fade black and white into shades of gray. Alfred would make things clearer for me, were he around.

But he's not.

So I wait, until the last sound brush of leaves falls quiet under the evening wind, before I turn on my heel to return to the place I came from.

Wondering if, in trying to correct one mistake, I'll only make countless more in turn.