APPROX. 1405 HOURS
"I respect you, Doctor. I really do. That's why I'm not opting to fix this problem like I fix my other problems."
Carmine Falcone's voice was deep, gravelly, and careful. This was an imposing man who knew exactly what to say, and exactly how to say it. He might not have been as tall as Thomas Wayne, but he knew how to make himself seem taller.
He was always well dressed, too. Whenever Falcone presented himself, it was always a designer suit, a tuxedo, or some other high-class, high-fashion piece of clothing. Everything about him was clean; The well-kept hair, the strong physique that accented his jawline, the tidy moustache he kept that put Thomas's to shame, owning his graying hair and embracing the salt and pepper on the sides. Everything about him screamed POWER.
Even for a hardened man like Thomas, it caused him to freeze and quit breathing when Falcone reached into his coat pocket.
"Do you care for cigars, Doctor?" Thomas quietly breathed out, relieved. Just a cigar case. An expensive looking one, to boot. The craftsmanship of the dark leather, the metal base that cleverly hid a cigar clipper, and the wrapped cigars themselves all looked like they cost more than Thomas's car. This, however, was still troubling.
Carmine was the current sitting head of the Falcone crime family. None of the organized crime in Gotham City went off without it going across Carmine's desk. Selling drugs, running guns, laundering money, all knowledge of this was privy to Carmine. He was a ruthless crime boss… allegedly, in the eyes of the law. He was crafty for certain, and it meant that Thomas too would need to be careful in a situation like this. There were many things that Carmine wanted from Thomas, all relating to using Waynetech as an additional front for his dubious activities. This conversation could easily make things much worse. If Thomas was going to navigate this, he would have to play Falcone's game, he figured. Looking at the cigars, he answered.
"While I don't smoke, I'd be happy to accept your generosity." Thomas said cautiously, taking and pocketing the cigar.
"Hm. I don't actually quite smoke myself," Carmine responded, a curious and stern look on his face. "but I do keep them around as the gentlemen I associate with happen to partake in them quite a lot."
Shit. Thomas thought. That look on his face. I can't read if that was a good thing or not.
"I do drink, however." Carmine continued. "I believe it is a good way to unwind- as well as break bread properly for negotiations. If we were not here at this…" He spun his hand trying to find the right word. "…holiday function, then perhaps I would offer you some."
Thomas looked around as Carmine gestured. They were at the same school that Bruce normally went to - Gotham Trinity Institute for Education. It was a large, ornate, and gorgeous building; more so than the other buildings near it. It had much more flora and greenery accenting it's brilliant architecture. The school's maintenance team must have cleared the snow off of the shrubbery.
Behind Carmine, a young boy was sitting in an obviously armored sedan with the door open. He was crying his bruised eyes out with a plum, soft-looking woman consoling him. The way her arm moved up and down his back was as delicate as her appearance. Soft "shhhhh"ing could be heard gently emanating from the back of the car, mixed between the boy's pained and slightly exaggerated sobs. In front and around the car were many brutish looking thugs in suits, staring down Thomas and company.
Behind Thomas was his own car. In it sat Alfred at the wheel, car started and ready to drive away at a moment's notice. In the backseat was Bruce, arms crossed, stewing, and staring out the window to keep a watchful eye on what was going down at the moment.
Jesus alive and on tour, this feels like a drug deal. Thomas thought. The air around Thomas felt like it was closing in slowly. He took a deep breath, and spoke back to Falcone.
"Mister Falcone…" Thomas made sure to pronounce it correctly- like 'cone'. He knew that others were subject to harsh treatment if they said anything else, especially if it sounded like you put a 'y' on the end.
"Please, Doctor, you may call me Carmine." He interrupted with another power play to frazzle Thomas.
"Hm, right. Carmine." He nodded his head and cleared his throat. "I think it would be best if we got back into the heart of the matter."
"I agree." Carmine nodded his head. Finally, Thomas said something right. "As I had said before, if you were any other man, I would have solved this issue already," Carmine put his gloved hands into his pants pockets. "But you and I are, obviously, not like other men. Therefore, knowing you like I believe I know you, I assume that you can explain just why your boy…" He took a hand out and simply gestured to Thomas's car where Bruce sat. "…decided to strike mine repeatedly." Then finished by nodding back to his own car.
"I…" Thomas had to be careful. A man like Falcone wouldn't be one to hear excuses or lies. Honesty would be the best solution here. "I haven't had a chance to hear Bruce's side of the story."
Falcone nodded his head slowly, groaning in contemplation. "Well, in that event, what do you think, Doctor? How would you diagnose this situation?" If Carmine was getting coy like that, it meant he was beginning to grow impatient.
"This time of year," Thomas began talking just to keep from any silence. Quickly, he thought of something that might just work. "is extremely difficult for my son and I. With what happened those years ago, Bruce has not been the same since. I believe he might have taken out his anger and frustration in an unfair way to your son… Alberto, yes?" Carmine nodded in affirmation. "Besides, with the age that our sons are, they tend to be especially rowdy and roughhouse with each other - but I think that the raw feelings that Bruce still has contributed to his spat of anger."
Carmine nodded his head again. "Now you say such a thing," his voice picked up in pace. "and I could see how one would say that this is a case of boys being boys, but I fail to see how what you say is any sort of valid reason for my son to be beaten."
Thomas was silent. He wasn't the type to stammer, so he tried thinking of any sort of good response to this. Falcone kept speaking.
"The way I see it, and from what Alberto tells me, this was an extremely disrespectful attack from your son to mine, unprompted and uncalled for." The fury was beginning to flicker in his eyes. "An attack on my son, is an attack on-"
Before he could finish his thought, another voice interjected.
"That's BULLSHIT!"
Thomas turned quickly to see that it was Bruce. He had gotten out of the car, and was standing there with his fists clenched. He began marching over to where the two adults were standing.
"Bruce, no, don't-!" Thomas tried to stop him. He tried.
"No, you want to talk about disrespect?" Bruce was livid. "Disrespect is making fun of the other kid's gifts. Disrespect is not apologizing when asked to. Disrespect is talking about my DEAD MOTHER and calling her a WHORE who crossed the wrong side of the street!" He was pointing furiously at where Alberto was with each thing he said. This was some of the most emotion that Thomas had seen from Bruce in years. Bruce had his moments, but nothing extreme like this. Tears were welled in his eyes. "Somebody had to do SOMETHING, he just wouldn't stop! He wouldn't sto-o-op!" Bruce began sobbing has he spoke. Thomas knelt down quickly to console him. He wrapped his arms around Bruce and hugged him tightly. He felt Bruce's arms wrap around back.
"Hey, hey it's okay son. It's okay." There was a familiar pain in Thomas's heart as he clenched his arms around his son. It always hurt deep to see his son cry over anything, let alone Martha.
After a brief moment of seeing Bruce sob, Carmine spoke up. "Young man. Bruce." He beckoned. Bruce looked up with a look of rage on his face. "Is what you're saying true?" There was a squinted look on Falcone's face, irritation ever present in how his lip curled slightly.
"If that's what he says, Carmine-" Thomas tried speaking up.
"No no. I'm not talking to you, Wayne." Carmine's gaze didn't leave Bruce as he held a hand up to Thomas. "I want to hear the boy speak. He made this decision, he can explain himself. Now talk."
"It's true." Bruce didn't hesitate. "Alberto was making fun of some kids. I told him to stop and to apologize 'cause it was mean, then he said all those awful things about my mother, and I just…" Sharply, he took a breath in. "I'm sorry, Mr. Falcone. I just couldn't help it."
Carmine was silent, mulling ideas around in his head. His jaw moved back and forth meticulously, as if to literally chew the thought around.
"Alberto!" He called out. Within moments, the young boy walked up with his mother behind him. He was nursing a busted lip by applying a few tissues with his left hand. When he locked eyes with Bruce for a moment, it took every ounce of restraint from both Bruce and Thomas to be held back. Alberto quickly and sheepishly looked up at Carmine.
"Y-yes, father?"
"This young man says you insulted his mother. His dead mother." He articulated that quite firmly. "Did you say such a thing?"
The look on his face spoke louder than he could have. Alberto shrunk back, visibly looking more uncomfortable. Many children were awful liars and Alberto was one of those children. Falcone sighed with his frustration shifting towards his son. Thomas counted his lucky stars. With all that talk of disrespect earlier, Falcone would have been a hypocrite if he chose to side with his son.
"Well, I can see now that there was a clear… misunderstanding." The tempo of his voice was back to the calm waves from before. "As such, it's only fair if we teach our boys proper manners, and to have them apologize for their foolhardy actions. Your son to mine for the attack, and my son to yours and his late mother for his… ungentlemanly words."
Thank. God. Crisis averted. The ball was now in Thomas's court. Alberto stepped forward meagerly and quickly uttered out. "I'm sorry for what I said." It was simple and childish. Alberto tried then to scurry back to the car, but a strong hand on his shoulder froze him in place.
"What else?" Carmine commanded another response from him.
"And to your mother, I'm sorry." He tried wriggling, but Carmine wasn't having it. He wanted one more thing. "I'm sure she was a very classy woman." His voice was mouse-like and rapid, like an unfitting clarinet in a string orchestra. Carmine nodded, and waited for Bruce's apology.
"I'm sorry I attacked you. I accept your apology." He lied through his teeth.
"Good enough." It seemed at that moment that Carmine too wanted to be done with this situation. "Back to the car." He ordered Alberto, who scurried off quickly. Carmine's attention then turned to Thomas. "I am glad we could resolve this like professionals, Doctor." He gave a wry smile. "I do also wish that you would continue to consider my offers for… a joint venture."
Thomas was about to decline again as he normally did. But a thought flashed in his mind. He - or rather, his alter ego- could take advantage of having a man like Carmine in a position like this. If there was information to be gained, now was the time to get it.
"Hm… I'm not sure, Carmine." Thomas responded, a hint of confidence surging in his voice. "Your offers have been generous, but recently a Mr. Cobblepot has come through with a more lucrative offer. I've been considering it." He looked at Falcone in the eyes, reading everything he could from it. But he wouldn't need to, for Carmine laughed. He reared his head back, and bellowed out a hearty laugh.
"That small fry? Giving you an offer?" His smile was mean-spirited and large. It was more impactful than his usual stoicism. "That penguin-looking-son-of-a-bitch wouldn't know how to give a good offer if his mama wrote out the instructions on how to do it." Some of the other thugs behind him could be heard laughing alongside Falcone.
Thomas nodded his head awkwardly, gauging Falcone's reaction. "So I take it you mean to say he's new to these types of things?"
"Oh-hoh, he is. But Doctor, you need to trust me when I say," He calmed down from his laughter to respond to Thomas. "Cobblepot is not to be taken seriously. He's nothing. Understand?"
"I think I understand perfectly, Carmine."
DECEMBER 23, 2003
APPROX. 2010 HOURS
"Um, Dad? Can I talk with you about today?"
Thomas heard Bruce pipe up from seemingly nowhere. When he looked behind him from his seat in the library, he noticed Bruce standing in the doorway. In his lap, Thomas was in the middle of reading about the procedure set for tomorrow, different ways to remove dead bone tissue from an arm, other things that would be best refreshed for his knowledge. Hearing Bruce, he put his book down and turned his attention fully.
"Alright… Where do you want to start?"
This had been especially surprising for Thomas. On the car ride back from Bruce's school, he had been completely silent. When Thomas tried to talk to him earlier, he got nothing. Alfred even tried coaxing something out of him, but it was just an awkward silence that was filled by the ambience of the radio. Just an hour of driving, radio, and silence from Bruce.
When they got home, Bruce immediately went to his room and shut himself inside. Soft sobs could be heard from beyond his door, but it was locked so Thomas and Alfred couldn't console him. Beyond that, nothing happened or could be done, so Thomas took to reading in the library.
The library itself almost matched the study. It was large, far larger than the simple study was. The books that lined the walls varied in size, genre, and color. It was a vibrant picture of knowledge that was painted, and Thomas hadn't even read a quarter of the books there. Many were old college and medical school textbooks that he put off into a corner as more of a keepsake than something to read again, but the vast majority of books were relics handed down from past generations. There were no windows in the library either, making it a somewhat effective shelter in the event of inclement weather. Not that Thomas would need it though, as the house had a dedicated weather shelter.
Bruce approached Thomas, and stood in front of him. He was still wearing his uniform. At this time of the night Thomas would normally have urged Bruce to change for bed, but tonight was certainly an exception.
"I… I'm sorry about what happened." Bruce muttered out. "I didn't want to cause problems between you and that scary guy."
"Are you okay, son?" Thomas had asked this in the car earlier. It was actually the first thing he had asked.
"Honestly? Not really." Bruce said. Thomas could tell that the words were difficult for Bruce to form. "I just feel empty inside. It's hard to really explain, but when I wake up my head and chest feel like there's nothing inside?" He sounded ashamed in a way.
"What you said to Falcone was pretty raw, Bruce." Thomas said. "You can tell me how you're feeling, it's okay."
Bruce took a deep breath. He was shaky. Thomas, quickly thinking, got a spare chair for him to sit down in. Bruce took the seat, and started speaking when Thomas sat back down.
"When I think about mom my eyes get all hot and… hearing Alberto say those nasty things about her, I just wanted to do the right thing for her." He sniffled, his breathing got a bit heavier. "I thought about what to do and I didn't want to let bad people win and hurt other people, so I just saw myself on top of him, and my fist was hitting his face."
Oh, Jesus Christ. Thomas thought, recoiling in his own thoughts. He didn't like where this conversation was about to go.
"Son, you know that violence isn't the answer." Thomas said sternly.
"But that's what the Gray Ghost would have done!" Bruce pleaded. Before Thomas could disagree with that, Bruce then added, "And it's also what Batman would have done!"
And there it was.
A dark, uncomfortable thought struck the back of Thomas's head. Part of him agreed with Bruce. It's what he would have done too! It's what he sort of already did. As Batman, he used many tactics that included violence and fear to strike at the hearts of those who would do evil unto others for their own sake. Alberto would not have stopped unless someone took a drastic measure. Thomas was glad that Bruce stood up not only for himself, but for that girl and his mother.
However, it didn't feel right. It just wasn't settling right in Thomas's mind. He was too young to act out like this, to resort to such a drastic measure without thinking of other options. Was the only takeaway that people were getting- that children like Bruce were getting- that Batman is about violently putting a stop to those criminals? That, and there was a clear difference between the criminals he went after and children. God forbid he condemn this and end up a hypocrite in the end. God forbid if Bruce ever found out.
In the end, Thomas decided to play it safe and keep his opinion in the middle of things. It would be better for Bruce, he reasoned.
"Bruce, while I don't agree with what that Batman fellow does… while I think he's too extreme for Gotham's own good… I think you did the only thing you could have done in your situation." He was very, very deliberate with his words. "To have anyone ask you to reel back your emotions and handle that in any other fashion would have been an outrageous notion. While I would have liked to see you take a different approach, I cannot for the life of me blame you. I'm not disappointed in you at all, son."
Bruce looked at him, eyes glazing with tears.
"You, you don't- I don't-"
Thomas didn't let Bruce finish his thought. He brought him in for as warm a hug as he could muster. The tears began to flow from Bruce's eyes as he threw his arms back around Thomas and gripped him tightly. Maybe it was time to speak a little more bluntly.
"Buddy, I probably would have done the same thing. It's okay. I'm not mad at you."
They shared a moment in each other's arms. It was warm, and it lasted for a while. Bruce's sobbing soon stopped, and they just sat there. Despite being wordless, the hug meant everything to each other in the moment.
After what felt like a while, a familiar throat-clearing came from one of the entrances to the library. Alfred was standing there, and next to him was another figure.
"Apologies for interrupting, Master Thomas. But I must introduce Master Lucius Fox."
Lucius stood with a broad smile on his face. He was leaning against the doorframe, scratching the beard that sat against his cool umber skin. He was about as tall as Alfred, yet only about a year older than Thomas. On the floor and at his side was a rather large messenger bag, full of what could only be assumedly paperwork or another one of Lucius's many trinkets he designs when he's bored.
Thomas stood up slowly, but before he could say anything Bruce stood up and ran towards Lucius.
"Uncle Lucius!" He just about hopped up into Lucius's arms, giving him a big, inviting hug. Lucius returned it, and put him back down on the ground.
"Good to see you, kiddo." His voice was smooth, slow, and suave. Like a delicately played orchestral drum, he spoke again. "Thought I'd pop in and talk shop with your dad." He patted Bruce on the head.
Thomas walked over and proceeded to shake Lucius's hand, before pulling him into a one-armed hug/handshake.
"Good to see you, Lucius." Thomas said before pulling away.
"Tonight's just a huggy kind of night, huh?" Lucius joked. He then turned to Alfred. "May as well then! Come here, you!"
Lucius then hugged his arms around Alfred, who simply stood there and accepted it without giving it back. It was unbecoming for the help to embrace guests in such a manner.
"Very good, Master Lucius." Alfred could only respond. Thomas, Bruce, and Lucius all got a good chuckle out of this.
"Bruce, why don't you get ready for bed while Lucius and I discuss work?" Thomas looked to his son, who then proceeded to groan.
"Aw, but I wanted to talk to Uncle Lucius!"
"Hey, kiddo?" Lucius knelt down to his bag as he spoke to Bruce. "How about tomorrow I show you some more of what I've been working on, but for now I… leave you…" he was rummaging around in his bag, pausing to try and look a bit harder. Thomas's eye caught a particular looking black box, but Bruce was just eager for whatever goodies Lucius could pull out.
"A-ha! Why don't I leave you with this?" Lucius pulled out a small gizmo, about the size of Bruce's palm. It was a rod-like object, completely black, and had small grooves on each end. Along the gizmo as well were small, almost unnoticeable grooves to match. Lucius handed it to him, and explained, "You see, it's a new type of reading light. You can press any of these here-" He pressed one of the grooves, and a tiny light turned on. Bruce went wide-eyed, impressed. "-and a light will come on in any of the spots. Plus," Lucius then found a metal surface - a small shelf that had a metal accent - and put the gizmo on it. "It's magnetic, for easy reading at night if you've got metal above your bed!"
"Wait, I do!" Bruce piped up excitedly. "My Gotham Knights Hockey poster frame is metal!"
Lucius handed the light back to Bruce and said, "Well, maybe now's a good time to go crawl into bed with a book and test it out, yeah?"
"Okay!" Bruce chirped. Heh, it worked. Thomas thought, as Bruce went over to a section of books that Martha had made for him long ago. Books that he could read as he grew older. It was something that Thomas could come to cherish as much as Bruce did. He picked out a well-read book that he hadn't finished yet, and went over to Alfred.
"Goodnight, dad! Goodnight, Uncle Lucius!" It was refreshing for Thomas to see Bruce beginning to spring back. He had moments like this on occasion, highs and lows coming in waves. Seeing Lucius was always a treat for Bruce. Mainly because he always had some simple gadget that he made effectively in his sleep. Where he got the free time to make these things, Thomas would never know.
As Alfred escorted Bruce to get ready for bed, Lucius and Thomas made their way to the study. Once the two were clear, they initiated the same old familiar process to enter the batcave and down the stairs they went.
"How's work going, Thomas?" Lucius asked while trailing behind. Lucius was more of a friend than he was a co-worker or any other member of the board at Waynetech, and had been on a first-name basis with Thomas for years now. Thomas had once said that Lucius was his equal more than anything. Lucius laughed and referred to the night before that, in which Batman had single-handedly stopped a drug operation in a warehouse, citing 'I wish I could kick as much ass as that.'
"I've got a few leads." Thomas replied. "I need to comb the records I copied last night, but the lead is 'Cobblepot'."
"The Cobblepot family's been clean as a whistle for a while now." Lucius said, recalling. "Someone new?"
"An 'Oswald' who purchased the patents for an 'Iceberg Lounge'. I've a feeling he's the one behind these icy thefts."
"Iceberg Lounge? Seems a bit on the nose."
"I've dealt with worse kinds of people."
Once they were both down, Thomas proceeded to begin armoring up as Lucius joined him at the table. He fished around in his bag, and pulled out that black box that Thomas saw earlier.
"Well for this guy, you made the right call to snatch this from Firefly." Lucius opened the box and pulled out the wrist-mounted flamethrower from the night before. It had been heavily modified since last Thomas saw it, though.
"I gotta say, that Lynns sure is one crazy hothead." Lucius said, shaking his head. "This thing would have melted brick from about 10 feet away with how he had it before, let alone your own skin. Now the distance is about arm's length, and it shouldn't be as strong. A more contained, narrow blast that should at least melt the ice you encounter."
Lucius took the initiative to strap the gadget to Batman's armor. It took less than a minute; Lucius had studied this thing extensively already. He ran a small gas line to a hidden fuel tank that sat on the underside of his left wrist. It would be difficult for anyone to puncture it, especially considering that it was much, much smaller than Firefly's.
Lucius handled the device like he had owned it all his life. The image that appeared in Thomas's mind was that of Lucius dropping all of his paperwork and giddily taking the liberated tool to his hidden workshop at Waynetech. He chuckled softly at the thought.
"All you need to do is tilt your wrist down, and press your thumb on the hidden switch. The safety will keep you from any accidental misfires."
"Thanks, Lucius." Thomas nodded, flexing his wrist around to get a feel for the contraption. "I take it you'll be assisting me tonight?"
"Figure I'd give Alfred a break to catch up on his sleep." Lucius had already taken a seat in front of the computer. "Besides, I wanna see if there's any way to make any improvements down here."
"In due time, Lucius." Thomas was geared up, face painted with eye-black and ready to go. He donned his balaclava and helmet and made sure all systems inside were running: the voice changer, the radio communicator to the cave, the UV and flashlight on the side, and directional microphone in the two bat-ears that were affixed on top of the helmet. If there was a time for anything to break down, it was certainly when the guy who made it was in the cave.
"Everything looks good on my end." Batman affirmed. He made sure his pistol was loaded and holstered it at his side.
"Bone breaking bullets still working as designed?" Lucius asked.
"Bone breakers still work just fine."
"Hell, if the board knew half the things I made for you, all of them would have the same kind of wealth that you do after trying to sell the patents to the army."
"It's a good thing they won't ever know." Batman began walking over to the car. Lucius and Thomas both shared the same sentiment, thankfully; these were tools for justice, not war. Not corrupt politicians or cops, for someone trying to make a difference.
Batman took his seat in the car, buckled in, then called over to Lucius on the radio. The distance was enough that yelling would be fruitless, hard to hear, and quite frankly a bit annoying. "The address for the Iceberg Lounge is 5809 Morand Drive, right?"
"5811, Morand." Lucius corrected.
"That's right." Batman remembered now. "I'll call you when I get there. The building is still under construction, so I'll need you looking over the blueprints."
"Already up." Thomas could hear the smile from Lucius. Maybe he was a bit too excited for this. "I'd wish you good luck, but you won't need it with what I gave you."
The car roared to life, and Batman sped off.