"Gentlemen, this is ridiculous." Paxton Powers snaps over the table. It
seems like he calls these meetings at least twice a day, and every meeting
he might as well be talking to himself. The old executives barely listen.
And I don't listen at all.
"Look at these figures! Company stock is dangerously close to losing some of its prime investors." I sigh and toss the paper on the table.
"Mr. Powers, where exactly are you getting all these figures? We do an analysis once a month, not once every twelve hours." He probably makes them up, hoping that one of these days, someone will agree with him.
But no one has yet. I swivel around in my chair, looking both juvenile and confident at the same time.
"Mr. McGinnis," Powers says as calmly as he can through his red face of anger and desperation, "If you looked at the figures or used that crackerjack box degree of yours once in a while, you would realize that I have a much firmer grasp on this company then you seem to." One executive, tired of hearing it, gets up to leave.
"Mr. Jacobs?" Powers calls after him. Jacobs turns.
"Paxton, I've had enough. You interrupt our lives; call us away from our families and our friends for this? To listen to you rant and rave about what a horrible job Mr. McGinnis is doing when he's pumping out the best deals since the days of Mr. Wayne? Go home, Paxton. Give it a rest." Powers stands tall, holding his head high with dignity.
"I will put the best interests of this company above my own interests, Mr. Jacobs, as I hope every man here would as well." He glances at me, as if to imply that I spend too much time at home and not enough time here.
Hah. I can just see Lydia's face turning red, tears rolling down her cheeks as she holds her sides in uncontrollable laughter.
Too much time at home. That's a laugh.
The rest of the executives follow Mr. Jacobs' example and exit the room. I sit in the chair a minute longer, feeling just a tiny bit sorry for Powers.
But not much.
"Cheer up Paxton. With any luck they won't fire you." He glares up at me. I'm pretty much asking for it.
"My father would have never allowed this to happen. To let some punk teenager take the helm of his company-" Powers trails off, his hatred for me unable to be expressed in words any longer. In a way I can relate to him. He wants to be just like his father.
"Mr. Wayne had the final say in what went on in HIS company, Mr. Powers. I thought you'd have realized that by now." Powers gets up and walks over to me. Leaning over my chair, he scrunches his face into something that is supposed to be a menacing look.
"You've been a thorn in my side too long, Terry." Paxton Powers is threatening me? I laugh up at him.
"How are you going to fix it, Paxton? Going to try and have me killed again?" It's not like he hasn't tried. He's done it a hundred times- clumsily and harmlessly.
He'll never be the demon his father was.
I get up and exit the room, leaving Powers still standing there, glaring at the chair as if I'm still sitting in it.
****************************************************************
I glance at the clock. 11 pm. About time to sneak down to the cave and get to work. I lean over the bed. Lydia's out. She's one of those people who fall asleep right on the dot every night, and then wake up in the morning with insane levels of energy. I walk out of the bedroom and glance up and down the hall before continuing down it.
There's never any sound from Ben's room. Even when he was a baby he never cried. If there was a nuclear explosion, Ben would probably keep on sleeping.
But I feel strange. Like someone's watching me.
I know no one else is in the house. But it still puts me on edge, and I creep down to the cave looking over my shoulder the whole time. I've been doing this for 12 years- no one knows that from 11 till god-knows-when I'm out being Batman.
I put on the suit and fly out to Gotham. It's a reasonably routine night.
After a while anything can become routine. I spend one more hour checking things over, then fly back to the cave. It's 1:30 am.
With any luck I'll get more than 5 hours worth of sleep. And that's on a good night, like tonight.
Any night that Batman is needed is never a good night. Wayne used to say that to me when I'd make some dumb remark like "tonight was easy" or "I'm never going out there again". What the hell did I know? I was only 17. I pull off the mask.
I rub my eyes. I must have been a bit too tired tonight. No one was following me. Who could? I've become too good at covering my own tracks.
"Dad?" I open my eyes.
Ben?
I turn. Sure enough, Ben stands there, staring in half disbelief and half elation at me. I suddenly realize I'm still wearing the suit, still standing in the cave.
Ben knows.
And I don't listen at all.
"Look at these figures! Company stock is dangerously close to losing some of its prime investors." I sigh and toss the paper on the table.
"Mr. Powers, where exactly are you getting all these figures? We do an analysis once a month, not once every twelve hours." He probably makes them up, hoping that one of these days, someone will agree with him.
But no one has yet. I swivel around in my chair, looking both juvenile and confident at the same time.
"Mr. McGinnis," Powers says as calmly as he can through his red face of anger and desperation, "If you looked at the figures or used that crackerjack box degree of yours once in a while, you would realize that I have a much firmer grasp on this company then you seem to." One executive, tired of hearing it, gets up to leave.
"Mr. Jacobs?" Powers calls after him. Jacobs turns.
"Paxton, I've had enough. You interrupt our lives; call us away from our families and our friends for this? To listen to you rant and rave about what a horrible job Mr. McGinnis is doing when he's pumping out the best deals since the days of Mr. Wayne? Go home, Paxton. Give it a rest." Powers stands tall, holding his head high with dignity.
"I will put the best interests of this company above my own interests, Mr. Jacobs, as I hope every man here would as well." He glances at me, as if to imply that I spend too much time at home and not enough time here.
Hah. I can just see Lydia's face turning red, tears rolling down her cheeks as she holds her sides in uncontrollable laughter.
Too much time at home. That's a laugh.
The rest of the executives follow Mr. Jacobs' example and exit the room. I sit in the chair a minute longer, feeling just a tiny bit sorry for Powers.
But not much.
"Cheer up Paxton. With any luck they won't fire you." He glares up at me. I'm pretty much asking for it.
"My father would have never allowed this to happen. To let some punk teenager take the helm of his company-" Powers trails off, his hatred for me unable to be expressed in words any longer. In a way I can relate to him. He wants to be just like his father.
"Mr. Wayne had the final say in what went on in HIS company, Mr. Powers. I thought you'd have realized that by now." Powers gets up and walks over to me. Leaning over my chair, he scrunches his face into something that is supposed to be a menacing look.
"You've been a thorn in my side too long, Terry." Paxton Powers is threatening me? I laugh up at him.
"How are you going to fix it, Paxton? Going to try and have me killed again?" It's not like he hasn't tried. He's done it a hundred times- clumsily and harmlessly.
He'll never be the demon his father was.
I get up and exit the room, leaving Powers still standing there, glaring at the chair as if I'm still sitting in it.
****************************************************************
I glance at the clock. 11 pm. About time to sneak down to the cave and get to work. I lean over the bed. Lydia's out. She's one of those people who fall asleep right on the dot every night, and then wake up in the morning with insane levels of energy. I walk out of the bedroom and glance up and down the hall before continuing down it.
There's never any sound from Ben's room. Even when he was a baby he never cried. If there was a nuclear explosion, Ben would probably keep on sleeping.
But I feel strange. Like someone's watching me.
I know no one else is in the house. But it still puts me on edge, and I creep down to the cave looking over my shoulder the whole time. I've been doing this for 12 years- no one knows that from 11 till god-knows-when I'm out being Batman.
I put on the suit and fly out to Gotham. It's a reasonably routine night.
After a while anything can become routine. I spend one more hour checking things over, then fly back to the cave. It's 1:30 am.
With any luck I'll get more than 5 hours worth of sleep. And that's on a good night, like tonight.
Any night that Batman is needed is never a good night. Wayne used to say that to me when I'd make some dumb remark like "tonight was easy" or "I'm never going out there again". What the hell did I know? I was only 17. I pull off the mask.
I rub my eyes. I must have been a bit too tired tonight. No one was following me. Who could? I've become too good at covering my own tracks.
"Dad?" I open my eyes.
Ben?
I turn. Sure enough, Ben stands there, staring in half disbelief and half elation at me. I suddenly realize I'm still wearing the suit, still standing in the cave.
Ben knows.