Chapter 3

"Hard Truths"

"A crusty old professor? Really, Vic?" Alan Ryan, Vicki's producer, scolded her in her dressing room. He was a grizzled, middle-aged man whose bark was worse than his bite, which she had often taken advantage of. "You're supposed to be covering the social scene."

Vicki lounged casually in her desk chair. She'd had the small dressing room converted into a makeshift office for herself, from which she conducted her more serious investigations. "Strange is helping the police catch the Batman. Crime is a social issue, isn't it?"

Ryan put his hands on his portly hips. "That's not what I mean and you know it! Leave the serious stuff to Engel and the other reporters."

"None of them are touching the real issues. Everyone is riding high on the Dent worship, keeping up this happy-happy, 'all is well in the kingdom of Gotham' atmosphere, when nothing could be further from the truth."

"People are depressed enough already."

"But they need to know the truth, Alan!" Ryan rolled his eyes, but Vicki continued. "And now is the perfect time to report on the Batman. He's changed; there's barely any sightings of him anymore, and when there is, he's brutal, savage. More than before."

"He's a psycho killer, Vic. What do you expect?"

Vicki leaned forward. "Is he though? A killer?"

Ryan folded his arms. "What are you talking about now?"

She held up some of the newspaper clippings and photographs she had strewn on her desk regarding Batman activity. "The facts don't add up, but nobody wants to see it. Batman was present at the Prewitt Building in Midtown, where he apprehended the Joker, while these murders he's accused of occurred all over the city around the same time. Meanwhile, he also gets Harvey Dent from Gotham General to that disused building in Tricorner without anyone noticing? And a gun? Why use a gun on that night and that night only? He hasn't used one before or since."

Ryan pointed a finger at her. "You are not going on-air and raising questions about that night. The city needs to put all that behind it and move forward. To make the people feel safe again."

"But-"

"No more buts. Now, your next story will be about the return of another of Gotham's prodigal sons. Guess Bruce Wayne must have started a mass exodus back here. God knows why."

Vicki frowned but conceded. For now. "Who's returned?"

Ryan unrolled the newspaper he was carrying and showed her their business page. The headline read "Roman's Empire – Roman Sionis returns to Gotham with new company."

"Never heard of him," Vicki said.

"Not surprised," Ryan said, rolling up the newspaper again. "His family owned a big steel mill in the Industrial District, before your time. Was shut down about twenty-odd years ago, something about illegal cost-cutting. The owner, Richard Sionis, was up in court about it. Roman is his son."

Vicki was curious as to why she didn't know anything about this. Granted, she'd only have been a baby back then, but she hadn't heard a whisper since. "So, what happened? Why'd he leave?"

Ryan's tone became heavier. "Richard and his wife, Charlotte, died before the end of the trial. Their mansion burned down while Roman was at school. I was a cub back then, covered the story."

"How awful for him," Vicki said in genuine sympathy. To have lost your parents so young would have been traumatising.

"You don't know the half of it. There were rumours that his father had burned the house down himself, rather than face the music, but they were never proven."

"Damn…"

"Yeah. Kid went to live with an uncle out of state. The Sionis Steel Mill is still standing, abandoned. No one wants to touch it. Legend says it's haunted – no one who goes in ever comes out." Ryan took on a dramatic tone for that last part. "Roman eventually grew up and built himself a new business. Cosmetics company, of all things." He waved the paper around. "Says here he's looking to move their base of operations to his old hometown. And, at a time like this, we need the boost to the economy.

"He's throwing some fancy soiree at his new penthouse apartment uptown, and I've scored you an invite. Get an interview or at least get some juicy gossip out of him."

Vicki shrugged. "Why? Sounds like everything is already known about him."

"You know these rich types, Vic. They're always hiding something."

Lucius Fox took a deep breath. He hadn't been looking forward to this meeting, but as CEO of Wayne Enterprises he had to address the concerns his fellow board members had raised.

He took off his glasses and placed them down in front of him at the head of the long meeting room table, speaking in his deep, gentle voice. "Onto other business. Some of you have suggested ejecting Bruce Wayne from this board." There were murmurs around the table. "I myself am opposed to the idea, given Mr. Wayne's connections to this company, but I am open to discussing the issue."

Next to him, John Fredericks, one of the oldest board members, spoke up in his cultured tones. "Lucius, you know that there is no greater supporter of the Wayne family than I, but Bruce clearly does not take this company, nor his legacy, seriously, as evident by his absence here today – indeed, his absence from every board meeting in the past few months." He scoffed. "As much as he was ever really here to begin with. It's an embarrassment."

Lucius hung his head. Although Bruce trusted him to run the company while he maintained a respectful distance, only occasionally taking interest in those technological projects that could aid in his nocturnal "hobby," lately that distance had been increasing. And others were beginning to notice.

"Have we forgotten how Bruce Wayne turned this company around after Bill Earle's reign of terror?" said Erika Hanson, a newer member. "Back to its philanthropic roots? As opposed to Earle's military contracts."

"Most of that was thanks to Mr. Fox," Fredericks said, giving Lucius a nod. "Bruce might have installed him as CEO, but Lucius here did all the work." Lucius made no reaction, still listening.

Another senior member, Philip Keane, spoke up. "And we're very appreciative, Lucius. This company's never been more popular, certainly, but its profits have not increased significantly under Wayne's ownership."

"No one is suggesting we sell the company again, of course," Fredericks quickly added. "Mister Wayne would retain ownership, just lose his seat, and influence, on the board. Someone more... invested could replace him."

"Perhaps we'd consider rehiring Bill Earle," Keane said. He held up a reassuring hand. "Not as CEO this time, don't worry, Lucius, just as a board member."

"Are you mad?" Hanson said. "Earle would have us making weapons again."

"He'd only have as much creative control as the rest of us," Keane said. "Lucius would still have the final say. His morals may have been questionable, but Earle's business sense was sharp. We need that kind of insight again."

"Thank you all for your opinions," Lucius said, cutting off further discourse. "I will consider everyone's input and bring the matter to Mr. Wayne's attention." He rose and left the room, signalling the meeting was over.

The issues raised by the board were troubling but justified. Lucius just hoped he could convince Bruce to show his face again, reassure his executives that he was still interested in the company his family had built. But it was getting harder and harder to reach him.

When he returned to his office, Lucius found Alfred, the Wayne family's ever-reliable butler, waiting on him.

He smiled at his old friend. "Alfred! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The prim and proper Englishman did not return the smile. In fact, he looked tired, worn. "I'm afraid I've brought you another one of Master Wayne's requests."

Lucius gestured to his desk and both men took a seat. "He's still sending you out on errands instead of rejoining society?"

Alfred shook his head. "He never leaves the penthouse or the bunker, except in his… evening wear."

Lucius sighed. This did not bode well for the board's concerns.

"I'm worried about him, Lucius. Since all that trouble with the Joker, since Miss Dawes died, he's become withdrawn. Refers to 'Bruce Wayne' as a separate person all the time now, as if he doesn't see himself as himself anymore. These gangs have him pulled in every direction; he's working harder than ever before, and he won't let himself breathe."

Lucius nodded gravely. "His latest requests have me concerned too. The electromagnet seemed benign, but tell that to anyone with fillings or piercings. Then there's this shrapnel grenade he asked for last week…"

"You're not going to like this one either." Alfred handed over a strip of paper with a serial number on it. "He found it in the Wayne Enterprises' archives, asked you to start covert production as soon as possible, as many as possible."

Taking the slip, Lucius typed the number into his computer and read the database entry that popped up. "Mobile Intelligence Telemetry Equipment. MITEs. Miniature drones for surveillance and crowd control."

"Master Wayne assures me that it will alleviate his responsibilities if he has these watching the city. That's the only reason I agreed to bring it to you."

Lucius leaned back in his chair. "I'll give him the MITEs if it helps, as you say, but they're a little too close to his cell phone surveillance network for my liking."

Alfred nodded. Lucius had told him about how Bruce had tapped into almost every phone in the city, creating a sonar map for him to find the Joker. The network had since been destroyed, but the similarities to the drones was indeed disturbing.

"At least these 'MITEs' will only be watching public areas," Alfred said. "Not invading people's homes. At least, I hope not…"

Lucius wasn't even sure if Alfred was joking about that. He took another look at the MITE schematics. Although small, they did have add-ons for pacifying crowds, such as tear gas or adhesive foam, and were all equipped with sonic disruptors, able to knock people out with sound waves.

"Maybe if these drones are keeping an eye on Gotham, Bruce can find some time to attend a board meeting." He turned to Alfred again. "Some of the other members have suggested ejecting him due to his recent lack of attendance. One even suggested reinstating Bill Earle."

Alfred's eyebrows shot up. "Perish the thought."

Lucius scoffed. "I suspect Earle paid him to raise the idea."

"Is that tyrant even still in the city?"

"Last I heard, he was over at Praeda Industries, as a low-level executive. I'm sure he's made himself very comfortable though…"