Chapter 4
The Goat
This is a farce, a joke, nothing but a show. The cavernous lobby of Wayne Tower is filled with clamoring press, self-satisfied executives, fawning employees; and then there's us. In case these comfortable corporate parasites forget who they're patting themselves on the back for helping, here are some token vets to gawk at. I focus on breath, on what I can control, here among all the things I can't. I should never have come here. I'm exposed, out in the open, in the harsh light of day. It's only in the still and silent darkness where I can be my truer, better self. There all my sins fade away and my purpose is clear, sharp and strong. Still, I wanted to see and hear it for myself, this new Wayne solution. I should know better than to hope, but Wayne funds the Bat. And without the Bat I would be lost. So maybe, just maybe… But these people cannot fix me, I see it in their eyes. There are no answers there. Not the ones that matter.
Suddenly the crowd congeals and quiets. I recognize the man walking to the podium, Lucius Fox. His eyes are different; this one knows things worth knowing. But he says nothing worth hearing, except to introduce his boss, the man who personally funds the Bat, Bruce Wayne. Wayne seems a well-meaning lightweight. He is charming, but distracted. His eyes are… guarded; which does not match his manner. Mostly he says nothing new, until he takes a question. It's about me, and the Bat. I feel joy to hear us linked, but it is short lived; turned in an instant to disbelief, outrage. Either his report is true and the Bat misunderstands me so grievously, or he speaks falsely. Why would Bruce Wayne tell such a lie so publicly? And then he is gone, before another question can be asked, leaving those words echoing in my head… 'sick degenerate'… 'perverting justice'.
I need to know the truth of this. Bruce Wayne holds that truth, and I will pry it out of him if I must.