There were ten of them, mostly large, but Batman wasn't concerned. In fact, he was enjoying the physical exertion of the the fight, moving fluidly from one opponent to another in a 'mind no mind' state that gave him blessed relief from his increasingly troubled thoughts. This was rhythm and instinct; boot to solar plexus, elbow to throat, fist to face. For a few minutes, he didn't have to worry about Dinah, about their tardy son, about Jason, or anything but the poetry of movement.
Until Alfred's voice came, crisply and with obvious agitation, into his ear. "Master Bruce... it's time."
There was no confusion as to what 'time' it was, not even for an instant did Batman believe that anything other than death, severe injury, or the birth of his son, would put Alfred into such a state that he would address him as Bruce while in the suit. A lightning bolt of anxiety shot into his gut, but he didn't break stride, swinging from the ceiling light fixture to plant both boots into the chest of a very large man named Bruno, who was in charge of the money laundering operation.
"She's alright?" He asked.
"No, I'm not alright!" Bruno whined. "I think you broke a rib!"
"Quite well, but asking for you, sir."
"Alright." He'd have to make this quick. The bolo snagged the ankles of two men, taking them down. A third reaching for his gun had it knocked from his hands by a batarang that caused injury in the process. "Take her to the hospital. I'll catch up."
'Who's he talking to?" One of the men on his feet asked before they were swept out from under him by the chair to his right, grabbed and swung into the face of the man fast approaching on the follow-through.
"Sir, she refuses to go anywhere without you. I suggest you come home immediately."
It was as close to an order as Alfred would get. Bruce grit his teeth. He knew there was no use arguing with Dinah. With them, even if it was completely asinine that they wait for him to finish up, go home, and change before even leaving for Gotham Memorial. "Fine. I'm on my way." Batman looked at the remaining three men, trying to pin him in. "Gentlemen, I'm afraid we'll have to cut this short. I have another engagement." As they stared at him in confusion, a concussion grenade dropped at their feet, throwing them to the sides, dazed if not unconscious.
It was a matter of minutes tying them all up and sending a message to Gordon, but it felt like an eternity.
He broke every speed law on the way home, almost entirely unnoticed in the darkness of the early morning. The Batmobile skidded to a stop on the platform and he barely bothered to turn it off. Pieces of the suit trailed behind him as he ran up the stairs. Bruce started to head upstairs to change, but changed his mind. It was too far and he didn't want to take the time. Unable to remember the last time he'd been in the laundry room, he was relieved to find a pair of pants - jeans - and a blue sweater.
"Alfred, I need shoes. Do we have everything we need?" he asked once he found them, eyes on Dinah, filled with concern. "How are you doing?" he asked her.