Chapter 3
The Bat
I manage only a few hours of sleep before Alfred comes in and pulls back the curtains, flooding the room with unwelcome light.
"Good noon, Master Bruce. I hate to force you to experience daylight, but as you no doubt remember today is the unveiling of the new Wayne Enterprises wounded veterans initiative. I believe you are expected to make an appearance, possibly even utter a few words."
"Right, of course. Still, you could introduce the light a little more… gradually. It's almost like you enjoy these rude awakenings."
"Allow an old man his guilty pleasures. I'm not dousing you in cold water, after all. Not yet."
"What was that?"
"Nothing sir, I'll have the car waiting in front as soon as you're ready."
He leaves my breakfast tray on the bedside table, exits and closes the door. I make quick work of the food and hit the shower. A few minutes later I'm in the back of the car, with Alfred at the wheel heading down the long driveway and off to Gotham. After about ten minutes he breaks the silence.
"You haven't said much about last night, sir."
"There isn't much to say, Alfred. Penguin's dead. Murdered by someone with a point to make, someone who seems to want my attention very badly. Well he's got it."
"What next?"
"Whoever this is, he's good. Too good to leave sloppy clues behind, nothing he didn't want me to find. There's no clear trail to follow."
"Surely you don't intend to simply wait for him to kill again?"
"No, I have to flush him out."
"And how do you propose to do that, Master Bruce?"
"'I'll just have to stir the pot a little, and today's event provides a perfect opportunity."
We arrive at Wayne Tower a few minutes late. Perfect timing actually, makes me appear both charitable and a little bit irresponsible. Alfred pulls up right in front of the main entrance, and the gaggle of press that have congregated there.
"Feeding me directly to the wolves, Alfred?"
"Certainly not, sir. You are more than a match for this rabble. But they afford you the opportunity to reinforce the Bruce Wayne image. Have you got your mask securely in place?"
"Heh. Yes, ready to go."
He's right, as usual. This is the act. This is the mask. A charade to protect myself and those I care about. The cowl is truth. But right now the act is necessary, even useful. Alfred exits the driver's seat and makes his way around to open my door, and then it's a flood of camera flashes, noise and shouted questions as I climb out of the limousine and politely carve a path to the front door.
"Thanks for being here to cover this important event," I say, after turning to the crowd. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm running a little behind schedule. If you're looking for a quote, don't worry, I'll have plenty to say at the ceremony proper. See you all inside."
The noise all but vanishes as soon as the heavy glass doors click shut. Walking to the elevators, I'm almost stopped by the security guard at the front desk.
"Hey, can I…" he manages before recognition kicks in and he immediately shifts to, "Good to see you Mr. Wayne."
"Thanks, good to be here," I shoot back with a smile.
There's quite a crowd gathered, many of our employees as well as a number of vets that Wayne Industries is already helping. The press are still settling in as I find my seat on the stage beside the board of directors. Lucius Fox, President of the Wayne Foundation, walks to the podium and begins to speak.
"I've known Bruce Wayne for a long time, and the man has no shortage of ideas. I'll be the first one to tell you, not all of them are good."
The audience laughs, perfect. Lucius is an invaluable ally, not only because he designs and builds most of my gear. He's also a crucial part of the act, the brilliant and steady leader who keeps Wayne Enterprises on track while billionaire Bruce Wayne basks in the spotlight.
"But sometimes," Lucius continues, "sometimes he hits on something too good, too right to ignore. So when Bruce said he wanted to do something to help veterans heal their wounds, both physical and psychological, I knew the Wayne Foundation had to get involved. Well today I am proud to announce the Epione Initiative; a charitable organization, fully funded by Wayne Enterprises, dedicated to helping those who've served so bravely live fuller, richer lives. And we're starting right here in Gotham, with the construction of the Epione Clinic, a new wing of Gotham General Hospital. We break ground in a month, and I'll be happy to tell you more about the various aspects of this project. But before we get to the specifics, let me turn you over to the man you're no doubt here to see anyway, the force behind all the good work we do, Mr. Bruce Wayne."
The crowd cheers and a cacophony of cameras goes off as I walk to the podium, pausing to shake Lucius' hand and thank him for his pitch perfect intro.
"Thank you, thank you all for coming. I…" I rifle through my pockets, pretending to look for notes to a speech I never wrote. "Well, it looks like I'm winging it. Ladies and gentlemen, we started the Epione Initiative to do work that seemed so obviously, blatantly necessary that we couldn't believe more wasn't being done. We're pairing cutting edge medical science with next gen technology to create a brighter future for our veterans. Now, I'm no scientist, or engineer, or doctor for that matter. Let's face it, what I bring to the table is resources, the resources that all those doctors and scientists and engineers need to do the amazing things they want to do. And fortunately, I also have Lucius Fox, a man smart and organized enough to turn my pie-in-the-sky ramblings into workable reality. Thanks, Lucius," I point at him and wink. Alright, enough of this, time to open the gates and let the press do its work.
"We're on track to do amazing things, and really make a difference in a lot of lives. This is exactly the kind of thing the Wayne Foundation was founded to accomplish. Now, do any of you have any questions?" I prompt.
A forest of hands shoots up, all attached to people barking "Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne." I spot Vicki Vale. Good bet I know exactly what she'll ask about, and it's not the wounded vets.
"Ms. Vale?"
"Yes, Mr. Wayne. Speaking of your resources, you've been very open about funding the Batman. In the wake of last night's murder of famed underworld figure Oswald Cobblepot, and the bizarre Bat-themed display of his corpse, what is the Dark Knight's reaction? Have you heard from him?"
"Well… I did reach out to him when I heard the news. We only spoke for a few seconds, but there was no mistaking his tone. He was particularly disgusted by the staging. Called the killer a sick degenerate perverting justice, and a few other things I probably shouldn't repeat. So, there you go."
That should do the trick. I look down at my watch, pretending to suddenly notice the time.
"Ah, it looks like I have to get going. Thanks again for your support and to Lucius and all the brilliant people driving the Epione Initiative… thank you!"
I pause to shake a few hands on my way out, smile for a few more photos, and then I'm back outside and into the limo.
"Well sir, was it everything you'd hoped?"
"If the killer cares what Batman thinks, and I'm betting hard that he does, then we can expect to hear from him very soon."
"Are we expecting him to simply pick up the phone and say hello?"
"Of course not. There's no telling how he'll respond, too much ground to cover. This is more than I can do alone Alfred. It's time to call in reinforcements."