Chapter Three
To be normal.
For a moment, everything seems...bright, too bright. Pine, I smell it. Bitter. It's strange knowing I have time to notice things like this anymore.
Strange...the word that casts its shadow over me. Oh, the irony.
Where was I two days ago? I can still see the ashes. It's riveting. The image of petrified faces is still fresh. Oh, but his expression was the best, being that there wasn't a face to see.
Mister John Satchel, who was it that had to identify your corpse? Was it your son? I hope so, God I do. You should really be happy to know how ecstatic you've made me! How important are you now, without a mouth to spew disgusting lies? No more lonely Friday nights with your favorite whores, huh? That's all you ever were. Lonely. Depressed. Sound familiar? You had been feeling so low lately...but I lifted you up, up towards the sky! All that smoke...You don't need medication to feel that kind of high.
Your thoughts are in the clouds...You did it all for her.
It must have driven you positively insane that morning when you couldn't find your prescriptions. All those people would be looking up at you, hanging on to your every word. There's just no possible way you could deal with that kind of stress without your happy pills. Oh, come now Mister Satchel, you were only a few more suicide attempts away from ending it all anyway. Who was I, a gentleman, but to give you what you wanted. No, what everyone needed. One less degenerate in this world, right? I couldn't have taken any more of that babble you said on that stage. Laugh it off, chief. Let's not forget how popular I made you on T.V. last night. I remember seeing the news lady's face...
"Flames...they engulfed everything...Oh my God, I just received word that they may have found the body of Gotham City's previous councilman John Satchel. They're...They're saying they may not be able to get a positive I.D from dentals...The charred remains of a few citizens is still being discovered among the debris...God..."
God?
God had no part in this...it was just pure entertainment.
But now I'm here, sitting on this bench. Tranquil, but it's only an illusion. Just on the other side of this small patch of wilderness are skyscrapers and buildings tall enough to break clouds. What are they trying to play at? This is nothing but an dirty, grimy, sleaze infested city, and I'm in the middle of it all. Central Park may be nice, but it's a fake.
You're Fake. Are you real? What is reality anymore?
You know, New York City is almost close enough to Gotham that I could consider it home. But no, Gotham's more beautiful, there's more death in the streets. And let's not forget it's most prized citizen! I wonder how that old Bat is doing. I bet he misses me. I miss him.
It's been so boring...
When will he finally get the point of all this? How difficult could it be to understand? I'm not a complicated person and even I can unravel it all. You just have to commit yourself, forget morals, put a little effort into it. Unless he's just like the others, Batman is just as incompetent as the rest of them all...I would hope not. Where would that leave me?
Alone.
I'm not...
Insane.
We all have our quirks...
Outcast.
That's a bit harsh. How can I be alone when you are always there bothering me? Reminding me?
Message..
It's all about making a point...
Gotham...when will I come home to you?
New York City
8:19 A.M
Bruce Wayne cringed as he listened to the echo of his footsteps down the marble floored hall. He hated making noise, hated the shoes he had to wear, and most of all despised the chipper woman that was following him. Her name was Michelle, his new assistant. She read over a sum of what would be an absolute nightmare.
"Now, Mr. Wayne, we will be proceeding with one of World Industries branch unit presidents, discussing our newly appointed operations. First, they will ask for our charts and current sales with other company branch members, then, when we awe them with our oh-so massive numbers, we'll pull them in stating our newly designed Army Mission Tactic Devices, or A.M.T.D. Oh my gosh, this is so exciting to be working with..."
Bruce tried his absolute hardest to pay attention to the petite, blonde assistant as she bombarded him with information he honestly had no interest in. This whole 'branch meeting' was completely bogus. He planned to show them a business deal, capture their curiosity, and then deny them all privileges to the rights of ownership. How many times did he have to do this before they all got the point that he didn't need them? 'Calm down. This is who you are for now. I'll be back in Gotham by tomorrow...Deal with it, Bruce.'
"...-arter. He's been with W.I. since the beginning, starting with his father, Donald Carter..."
Nodding, Bruce hardly registered what she was saying. It was all just an act. Inside, Batman scowled. 'I tracked you down...I know you're in this city somewhere.' That was the only reason he came here. How long had he been searching? How long had he been hiding his other self? Bruce Wayne, famous bachelor, makes his way across the country to proceed with new company deals. But what was it all really for?
To find him. The psychopath who destroyed everything important to him.
Batman was number one on every wanted list in the nation for the murder of someone he had tried to save, a person who he had at one time considered a friend. And all this was happening while that murdering clown was on some type of disorganized killing spree! 'The F.B.I couldn't even manage to keep him in custody long enough to send him to Arkham Asylum.'
"...-ot much of a sense of humor. You may want to watch what you say around him..."
Another nod. 'You murdered him, didn't you? John Satchel, councilman for Gotham City...but why? What did you have against him?' Maybe there wasn't a why. What had the Joker been doing in Chicago? What did a cathedral have to do with anything? Perhaps he just wanted to watch the aftermath... All these questions...Batman wanted answers.
Bruce held in a sigh and ran a hand over his black hair. 'Just get it the hell over with.' Stopping in front of the double doors, he anxiously glanced at his watch. "I hope I can still make it to breakfast by the time this is over."
The assistant stared at him expectantly. "Um, Mr...Mr. Wayne? Do you want me to go in or..."
"Just stay here, Michelle. Keep a look out for me, will you?" He gave her a wink.
She giggled. "Okay."
Acknowledging the assistant's words of encouragement, Bruce opened the tinted glass door, plastering a smile to his face. He entered a meeting room with a glass ceiling and a large, oval table meticulously set in the center. It ran the length of almost the entire room. The windows, going from the floor to ceiling, held a spectacular view of N.Y.C, and on each side of the table were at least twelve chairs. Only one was occupied by an antsy looking man in a black suit. 'Where's his negotiations team?'
Bruce walked over, set down his briefcase and shook the man's hand. " "Sorry I'm late. You know how it is trying to get around this city at such an early hour, I'm sure."
He grasped the billionaire's hand firmly. "Of course. You don't even know the hassle I went through to get here. I'm James Carter, president and one of the founders of World Industries. It's good to finally meet the notorious Bruce Wayne."
Bruce tried to conceal his surprise. "Forgive me, I uh...I was expecting someone older than myself. You're the president of W.I?"
Mr. Carter grinned, tucking back a loose dark blonde strand of hair from his pulled back ponytail. Wayne noticed that there was something off about him. "It's more of a family operation. I'm sure you can understand that."
"I believe I do...Are you sure we haven't met before?"
"Can't say we have. What was this with a um...Army Mission...thing?"
Bruce's jaw twitched in slight annoyance, quickly brushing it aside. "Army Missions Tactic Device. Where is your team?"
"They're around. Probably went to go grab a cup of coffee, worthless caffeine addicts."
"Shouldn't we wait for them?"
Carter shrugged. "We're grown men, I'm sure we can do this all by ourselves."
"Are you sure? I-"
"Can you believe they have a four star restaurant in here? The things this building wastes its money on, I swear."
"You own this building..."
"I know."
"...Right." Setting himself down, Bruce punched in the code to his briefcase, trying his best to ignore the odd way Mr. Carter rocked back and forth in his chair. The case clicked open and he pulled out the manila envelope labeled 'A.M.T.D'.
"Pretty tight security for such a low tech device," Carter commented.
Bruce closed the case. "You can never be too careful."
"I can imagine, especially when you're carrying around the layouts for higher, more efficient weapons in there."
Wayne glanced down to his briefcase, aware of the blueprints to some of his newest Bat gadgets he had brought with him. "I'm sorry...you must be confused. Now, back to the-"
Carter held his hand up, a motion for Bruce to stop speaking. Leaning forward, he whispered, as if sharing a secret to a schoolyard friend, "Come on, Bruce. We both know this is just a shitty toy to please the childish needs of our rather insufficient army...Where are you hiding the real goodies?"
Clenching his fist behind his back, Bruce put on a look of confusion. "Mr. Carter, I honestly have no clue what you're talking about."
"Let's not make this more difficult than it has to be."
Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Is that a threat?"
Carter only laughed. "What? No! No, I just want us to be friends, business partners. And partners share everything with each other, right?"
"I'd hardly consider you an acquittance."
James clucked his tongue, staring down his nose at Bruce with dark pits. "What's the matter, playboy? Don't want to share your new play things with anyone else?"
Bruce laughed, despite himself. "I'd prefer to keep some of Wayne Enterprises's work to myself, if you don't mind. I'm sure World Industries has a few of their own secrets."
"I wouldn't know anything about that."
"What, you're own business doesn't want you in on their club?"
Carter giggled at the remark. "W.I. can't even keep its own employers insured, so why would I want any part of such a terrible operation? You don't get it, Brucey. It's all about getting something across to the other big, bad business people out there. They're all shouting at one another, 'I have better sales, I have the better lawyers,' like children who never shut up about how fucking spoiled they are. It's a dog eat dog world and we're the only felines..." He stopped himself. "So come on Mr. Wayne. Let's rub elbows."
The billionaire only stared, amused with how this was playing out. "While that was a very...convincing speech, I've made my point and I'm sticking with it."
Carter rolled his eyes."Your point is dull. Then again, being a cat, my curiosity can get the best of me."
This was turning out to be an interesting morning for Bruce Wayne. "There's nothing to be curious about. All I have with me today to discuss is the A.M.T.D. There are plenty of other matters I would enjoy attending to."
James realized it was time to stop beating around the bush. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Oh, you're no fun. My mistake then. Well, obviously we both had different intentions for the outcome of this little get together. I honestly don't want to waste anymore of your time or mine. Have fun with your little game-boys." Picking up his suitcase, Carter took an unnecessary bow, swiftly leaving the room. Outside, as he hummed to himself, he grinned and wagged his eyebrows at Michelle. "Bit of a dim-witted one, isn't he darling?"
Back inside the office, Bruce sat in one of the chair for a few more moments, stunned, just staring as the door swung shut. 'What the hell was that? Who the hell did he think he was..?'
Picking up his case and dusting off his suit, he walked out of the room. His assistant stared at him with wide eyes.
"How did it go?"
The billionaire just walked past her. 'James Carter...He never waited for his team to return...'
He paused. "...Michelle!"
The assistant perked up, trying her best to keep up with his pace. "Yes sir?"
"Who exactly is James Carter?"
The woman stopped, puzzled. "I don't know. Who's that?"
Bruce turned around, facing her with equal confusion. "The young man I just met with. World Industries."
Michelle tilted her head. "You mean Edwin Carter? He's sixty-six, I'd hardly consider that young."
The marble halls were dead silent. In those moments, Wayne realized how heavy his briefcase was. Lifting it and setting it against his ear, he listened...
Tick...
Tick...
Tick...
Time didn't slow, it sped up. In a moment of panic, Bruce threw the suitcase back into the room, grabbed Michelle's arm and dragged her behind him as he ran down the hall shouting, "EVERYONE GET OUT! THERE'S A-"
And then there was applause...like an audience of a thousand...Bright lights danced across the walls.
The explosion knocked him and the woman forward. Bruce instinctively tried to cover himself, unsuccessfully doing so and banged his head against the floor. Blood trickled down his forehead as he lay sprawled out on the ground and he could only watch, dazed, as flames formed behind him.
Looking over, his assistant gazed at him with clouded eyes. Protruding from her chest was a foot long shard of glass. In it, he saw his reflection...an image of Rachel Dawes appeared. Guilt enveloped his mind.
Somehow, Bruce managed to pull out his cellphone. It took him three tries to dial 911. By then the fire that had started was already halfway down the hall. He covered his mouth as to not breathe in the dense cloud of smoke."911 operator, what's the emergency?"
"Bomb...send help..."
"Sir?...Sir? We're gathering your location now..."
When was the last time he had ever felt this helpless? It all seemed so obvious now.
'I'm sorry Rachel...'
Saving everyone was an impossible feat, even for Batman.
Outside the building, just across the street, James Carter watched as the windows of the top floor blew out, glass littering the street below. Around him, people scurried and screamed.
No one took notice of the only man laughing.
So easy...Almost child's play.
When does this get serious?
Never.
You opened it. You memorized the code...What was inside?
Fun. So many things...
And what was this?
Bruce Wayne...there's more to you than meets the eye.
Is it possible?
Blueprints...
You want things that make noise...
You? I am you.
From now on it's we.
A/N: I'm not too particularly happy with the lack of inspiration I'm having at the moment with this...Oh well. Don't worry, the story will lose its confusing, dreamy state in the next chapters. Reviews are appreciated.