"Why did you not go to war with the men of the country Mister Wayne?" Connor Beach asked accusatively, tugging gently at the cuff of the right arm of his jacket as he spoke.
"Every man, women and child in our country must support the war Mister Beach, but they must not necessarily do it in the same way, if our country is to continue in any capacity then we need men fighting for our continued freedom at the fronts, and industries fighting for the advancement of our economy at home. Industry has brought our economy to the forefront of international trade, and our companies, companies like mine Mister Beach have helped turn our nation into a super power rivalling that of our enemies in Germany and our friends in Britain. I am helping this war Mister Beach, perhaps more than any one man on the fronts ever could" Wayne shot back angrily, it was not a journalists place to question his contribution to the war effort, "Wayne Industrial Technologies, Mister Beach has funded research and development of new more powerful weapons for the use of our men on the frontlines, our advancements in personal body armour has saved more lives during war than any innovation since doctors started washing their hands before surgeries."
"And what of your holiday next month, how pray tell will a month in Cuba help our war effort?"
Bruce Wayne faltered, he had not expected the journalist to know of his planned trip in the next month, he brought his hand down heavily on the plush padded edge of the desk in front of him and sighed.
"I put it to you Mr Wayne that the reason you are not on the front line is not because you feel you can do more good here, but because you are afraid, afraid of dying maybe, afraid of seeing your faceless employees face to face perhaps, afraid of leaving your cushy bubble and facing the real world." Connor's face broke into a wide grin, he had him here, it had taken a long time and a lot of effort to find out about Mr Wayne's trip, but he knew he had no counter argument, no way to worm his way out yet again.
"I think you should leave" Wayne said bitterly, he had been bested and he knew it, he did not think a mere cub reporter from a local inner city paper would have been so well prepared.
"But Mister Wayne our interview is not scheduled to finish for another twenty minutes"
"I think you misheard me, I said leave!" with this Bruce slammed his hand down on his desk, knocking over a neatly filed stack of paper as he did so.
"Very well Mr. Wayne I think I have more than enough for an interesting story here." And with that Connor took a step towards the door opposite the desk, before pausing a final time to take in the rich office he was standing in, firm carpet underfoot and beautiful expensive paintings on the wall, and stepping out the door.
Bruce Wayne slumped down into his large leather chair and put his head into his hands. He had not planned on anyone discovering the month long trip he had planned, Wayne Industrial Technologies was almost autonomous by now, no one but his closest friends would know he was missing, an excuse of sickness would be made up to avoid the rumouring of why he had not been seen around Gotham city. It was lucky, he thought to himself that the reporter had not found out the true reasons for his month long absence.
Bruce sat with his head in his hands, the reporter had a point. He was scared, not of dying, not of seeing his employee's faces and not of leaving his cushy life, but of seeing others die around him, his friends, his employees while he sat helpless, unable to save them, watching more die around him.