Bruce pulled up to the golf course at 2 o'clock sharp. The bright blue Mercedes sparkled in the sunlight, as he handed his keys to the valet, along with a hefty tip. He strode over to the front desk, clubs over shoulder, where a bubbly young woman by the name of Candace was waiting.
"Bruce Wayne. I'm teeing off with a Mr…" Bruce faltered. He racked his brain for the name of the client. It wasn't like he was paying any attention when Alfred rang off his schedule. All that was on his mind was the psychopath currently roaming the Narrows. Suddenly, a name popped into his head. "Ah, yes. Mr. Nashton." He held out his membership card, as Candace searched the computer for his booking.
"Ah, here we are. Mr. Wayne and Mr. Nashton. Mr. Nashton is already waiting in the clubhouse café. Will you be needing a caddy, sir?"
"No, thank you. I'll caddy for myself," Bruce said, as he began his journey to the café. He could've sworn Candace may have stolen a glance as he walked away. He allowed a smirk to cross his face. Bruce entered and surveyed the café. It was a sea of white clothing, from wall to wall. With one very apparent exception. Dead centre was a man in a bright green shirt, and dull, green trousers. Bruce recalled an article he once read on Nashton, and he certainly remembered it declaring him as… rather unique, in terms of fashion. Putting two and two together, he walked over to the table. "Edward Nashton?" He extended his hand, and the other man took it earnestly. "I'm Bruce Wayne."
"Well, if it isn't Gotham's golden boy himself! Bruce, how are you?" Nashton exclaimed, slapping Bruce hard on the back. Bruce was taken aback. This man was getting overly personal fairly quickly. He put on a smile, and offered a fairly standard 'couldn't be better', before the two of them, accompanied by Nashton's caddy, set out onto the green. "Now, Bruce. I'm not being too informal, am I? I like to think business partners can be friendly."
"We aren't business partners yet, Mr. Nashton," Bruce said, sternly. He saw a slight grimace cross Nashton's face, before settling back into a smile.
"Too true… Mr. Wayne. Forgive me for talking shop so early, but I can see you're a man who likes to get to the point. My company, Nashton Pharmaceuticals, is the leading supplier of medicine throughout America. Bigger even than your sister company, Wayne Medical."
"I'm well aware of the statistics. You certainly do turn over one hell of a profit, Mr. Nashton."
Nashton sensed a little suspicion in his voice. "Yes, we do make quite a lot of money. However, we're looking to go international, and while, of course we have the money, we certainly don't have the contacts. Well, until this meeting!" He laughed and slapped Bruce on the back again. "What we're looking for from you, Bruce, is services in return for payment. We'd pay handsomely for use of Wayne Shipping's trade routes and shipping services, as well as use of your enormous web of contacts all around the globe."
Bruce stopped in his tracks. "Mr. Nashton, while this all sounds like a good business deal for the both of us, I have some reservations." Nashton's face soured.
"What kind of reservations?"
"First and foremost. My father spent years building up his business contacts, and that is work that I have continued to undertake ever since I became CEO of Wayne Enterprises. I would hardly introduce them so readily to a man I barely know. Especially when what I have heard of him involves criminal dealings."
"What? Criminal dealings, Mr. Wayne? I think you had best pick your words very carefully from here on in. I am not some lackey you can speak down to. I am the head of the largest pharmaceutical company in America!"
"Mr. Nashton, I had my staff check your company out the second this meeting was booked. Your books don't balance. Which certainly makes me inclined to believe these shady rumours. I came down here as a courtesy, Mr. Nashton. I never had any intention of allowing you access to any part of my company. Please, enjoy the rest of your golf game. Wayne Enterprises will pick up the tab."
Nashton fumed as Bruce walked away. He pulled a cellphone out of his pocket, and speed-dialled a number. "Waylon. Mr. Wayne didn't like my proposal. I need you to visit Wayne Manor tonight, and personally air our grievances." A grunt sounded on the other end of the line, and it went dead. Nashton began whistling, his mood greatly improved. "I will get access to those routes, Wayne. Even if it's over your dead body."