Was that…gasoline?

Glancing down, he spotted a pool of liquid atop the ice, reflected in the ambient light from the night sky. An emergency flare lay beside the puddle. Puzzled, he bent to pick it up.

“Light it up,” a raspy voice growled in his ear.

Hope sparked inside Gordon, brighter than any flare. He knew that voice. It was the same one that had spoken to him in his hospital room, months ago, the voice that had first asked him to help clean up Gotham all those years ago.

He’s back, Gordon realized, overcome with relief. Finally.

As requested, he lit the flare by twisting off its cap and scratching the ignition button. A brilliant red flame shot from the business end and, trusting Batman with his life, Gordon thrust it into the puddle of gasoline.

The pool burst into flame, and a trail of fire raced across the ice until it reached one of the darkened buildings on the far side of the river. The bright orange flames spread up and across the face of the building, forming the silhouette of an enormous, flaming bat.

Gordon’s heart surged at the sight. Now everybody in Gotham would know the truth:

The Dark Knight had risen.

“Dad! Check it out!”

Deputy Commissioner Foley’s kids called him to the back window, the one that looked out over the river. Jennifer was already there, staring out in wonder.

“Honey, take a look!” she said. The excitement in their voices jolted him from his guilty torpor. He stumbled across the brownstone to the window. His jaw dropped at the sight of the flaming sign.

His conscience stirred.

Maybe there was still hope after all.

Bane strode the streets of Gotham, heading back from the courtroom to his headquarters in City Hall. This was the last time he ever expected to walk this route. Everything was in readiness.

After so many months, the culmination of his plans was less than a day away. Soon Gotham would see its last dawn—and the legacy of Rā’s al Ghūl would be fulfilled at last. He hoped that Wayne was enjoying the show.

“Sir?”

Barsad approached from behind. Bane detected nervousness in the mercenary’s tone. He turned to see what the matter was, and beheld the sign of the Bat burning brightly on the other side of the river.

“You think it’s really him?” the lieutenant asked.

Bane’s mask concealed his surprise. He had broken the Batman, and left him in the pit to languish in despair. There was no way Wayne could have arisen from that hell.

“Impossible…”

The burning symbol sparked a fire inside Foley, as well. Racing to the bedroom, he yanked up the floorboards to expose a hidden cubbyhole. His dress blues, neatly folded and ironed, were tucked inside the hole. Despite everything, he had never been able to bring himself to dispose of them.

He took the uniform out of hiding.

Distracted by the blazing sign, the guards at the river’s edge were easy prey. Batman quickly neutralized them before they even realized what was happening.