Bruce wakes up, his back aching. Alfred takes Bruce's arm. "Morning, Master Bruce," he says as he injects a needle into his arm. The liquid shoots up his veins like a bolt of lightning, soothing every muscle it crosses but burning each bullet hole and stab mark it touches until they feel practically nonexistent.
"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce says, starting to do push-ups.
"Your stock has risen 12% this week, and we still list the crime rate as stable. Dick got home at 4 AM with only a minor bruise to his chin. The board wants to meet with you at 8, and Harvey wants to speak to you around 11 AM for coffee." Alfred places an enormous weight onto Bruce's back.
"What about the Arkham meeting? Isn't that today?" Bruce adjusted himself to one-handed push-ups.
"That's been pushed forward to 6 PM since Mr. Strange is being called for an emergency appointment later regarding Harley's latest escape attempt. It says here she killed 12 men, injured 5, and made one of them sterile with a sharpened spoon... So, nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose?" Alfred sighs.
Bruce stops at his 100th push-up. "Since she lost Joker, she's been truly insane. I want to help her, but at the rate it's going, I fear she may have to be sent to Blackgate." Bruce now skips on the spot while Alfred times him.
"Thirty minutes with no missed steps, Master Bruce." Alfred stops the timer. "Now, please, will it be breakfast this morning or fasting?"
Bruce turns with a grin. "Blueberries and oatmeal, please."
Bruce puts on his best suit and makes sure to get his hair at its finest.
The board wants to see him, which usually means he's in trouble or he's done something brilliant, but only the meeting will let him know.
Wayne Tower stood over Gotham. Bruce hated the attention but knew that the Wayne name is a beacon of hope that needs to keep burning bright. He put a $41 billion expansion into the building to make it the largest and brightest in the city. This also allowed 1,200 more jobs into the building, so all in all, he's happy.
The air in the meeting room was harsh and cold. Everyone looked at each other anxiously, awaiting Bruce's arrival.
As he enters, everyone rises quickly and adjusts their suits.
"Good morning, Bruce," Chairman Scott Howard beams and offers a hand. He was a short, skinny man with a smile that could best be described as 'yikes.'
Bruce shakes it quickly and sits down. "Morning, everyone. Sorry I was late. Traffic felt like getting beaten with a stick."
Arms planted firmly on the table, he makes a point of giving everyone a smile while sitting back in his chair confidently.
Scott takes the lead. "Bruce, I'm sorry we called you in like this at a moment's notice, but we just have some pressing issues to attend to," he grins wide and warm at Bruce. "Don't worry, we've avoided any trouble for now."
Bruce was monitoring everyone. Some fidgeted, and others stared around aimlessly. No one wanted to look at him.
Scott continued, "We got hold of a press story before it could leak... Is it true you're running for mayor?" His bluntness took aback everyone but Bruce appreciated it.
"Yes. I am going to run for mayor after I announce a brand new community center." Now everyone was staring at Bruce with daggers in their eyes. "With my parents' murder reaching its 20th anniversary, I figured now would be the time to establish that the Wayne spirit is alive and well."
Scott sat back and stared down Bruce like he was some kind of unicorn. "How do you plan to handle this business? While not explicitly illegal, it would look bad on you if you run a business that can directly benefit from your policies." Scott was playing with his pen like a happy schoolboy. Bruce knows what Scott is really asking.
"I look forward to a break from business. I will admit..." Bruce took a moment to weigh his words. "Temporarily, I'll be relinquishing control over the Wayne empire to my friend Lucius Fox. I will hold an interview with Vicki Vale tomorrow for a public broadcast announcement of my temporary resignation along with the Wayne community center." Bruce waited for questions calmly with a smile he's practiced a thousand times. But inside, this was more terrifying than anything some thug has pulled on him. Batman is a battle he knows and understands... Bruce Wayne is a war he usually avoids.
"Is it the right thing to do, sir? If your campaign were to fail—and I'm not saying it will—but if it does, the bad press could cripple this company!" Ms. Grimshaw, who has been with the company for 60 years, interjected. This woman knew the family so well she might have changed Bruce's diapers at some point. If there's anyone in this room he could trust, it's her.
"Please, Ms. Grimshaw, call me Bruce. You've earned that. Now, to address your concerns: Yes, I'm aware I could very easily fail, and we all know my connection to Harvey already hurts my chances and our stock. But, I have to stop sitting on this throne and actually help those below us. You and I both know my mother and father would want this." Bruce held her hand attentively while Ms. Grimshaw dabbed her eyes. "Now, unless there's more to address, I have another meeting."
Bruce walks up to his limo and waves to the press. "Please make room for my driver," he requests quickly before getting inside and locking the door.
"Did it go well, Master Bruce?" Alfred asks as he navigates the car out of the press mob.
"Well, to say it scared everyone is an understatement. I need to be as clear as possible. If we have any controversy for the next year, then I might tank everything... It's best we keep Vicki close as we can to stay on top of everything," Bruce emphasizes, making a point of buckling his seatbelt as someone takes another photo. "Role model is the campaign model, after all."
Alfred adjusts his mirror to focus on Bruce. "What does Batman think about this?"
Bruce's expression turns grave; he sits taller, lowering his voice. "Though attacking crime in every corner is essential for the city's well-being, the prospect of semi-retiring doesn't put my mind at ease. I must ensure Robin is prepared, but I have faith in him and Green Arrow to maintain our steady crime rate." He then unlocks the door and slightly opens the window to remain vigilant and listen for any city sounds.
"Please remember we're all here for you, Master Bruce," Alfred finally gets away from the mob.
Bruce leans his head back and rubs his eyes. "Yeah, Alfred, I know. Whatever happens, know I love you." This was far too touching by Bruce's standards, but he knows Alfred has been worried sick since the Joker last attacked.
Harvey, sitting outside the coffee shop, excitedly waves down Alfred. "Wish me luck," Bruce gets out, excited. "Looking healthy."
Harvey rubs his face a little. "Not too bad yourself, Bruce," Harvey hugs him. "Can't figure out how you stay in such good shape with all that partying of yours."
They enter the shop and look around at the fake gold rims on seats and 'expensive' plates that the customers ignore while they write away as if it's a standard Starbucks. "Gentrification's finest," Harvey remarks under his breath.
Harvey's face was healing nicely. Last time he tried running for mayor, some protester threw acid at him. It was a pretty vicious compound that nearly ate through his bone, but now he just has a nifty scar across his lip.
"Twelve dollar coffee? Or eight for a duo order, but it's just the plain stuff," Harvey points to the menu.
"Harvey, please, I can cover whatever you want," Bruce looked at the cashier apologetically.
They sit down by a small vintage table with a charging port crudely forced into it, like some alien tech, and painted bright white like a landlord paints a keyhole. "Look outside the window, Bruce. What do you see? I see rundown, crumbling apartments and cars 20 years out of fashion," Harvey points outside. "But in here, we are drinking twenty-dollar coffee, and down the road, you will see the construction of a Target. The rent in those apartments is 1,200 a month, no expenses covered but plenty of mold. When I run, I'll end this and get low-income representation."
Bruce's heart drops when he hears this. "It's certainly a good idea," he managed, feeling sick. He meant this as asking for Harvey's help, not to tell him he's a competitor.
"What's the matter, Bruce? Looks like you've seen a ghost," Harvey asked jokingly, but his grin gave away hints of worry.
"I- Harvey, I have something to tell you," Bruce rubbed his hands together. "Harvey, I'm already running for mayor. I'm having an interview tomorrow with Vicki. Just please understand, I didn't know. I thought after—"
Harvey loudly put his cup down. "After what, Bruce? After I got burned up! You didn't at all show up while I spent a year in my apartment, shunned away like a decrepit fiend. I can accept you not coming because you hate the stress, but I cannot believe you. Twelve years I've known you, and suddenly now you stop being some kid and think, 'Hey, I'll become Mr. Mayor!' No, Bruce, I worked, and I paid every dime I could into my face, and yet here you are, coming in and ruining my career as well!" Harvey was bent over the table, up close to Bruce. "You can't even look me in the eye... You can't look anyone in the eye, and you mean to tell me you want to start accepting and playing with high society like it's a cakewalk?" Harvey was bending the table as he leaned on it.
Bruce stared directly into Harvey's eyes to spite him. "I funded your entire campaign. I was there for you every step of the way, even when the IRS caught up with your father. Who was the one that gave $400 million to the Dents? Me, Harvey. I have done nothing but fight for your success." He stands up, towering over Harvey. "Please, let's get out of here and talk in private," Bruce asks in a hushed tone.
Everyone in the shop is staring at them, and someone takes a picture.
Bruce tries to rest a hand on Harvey's shoulder, but he grabs Bruce's wrist and pushes him away. "That's right, take pity on the monster…" He runs out of the shop.
Bruce sits in the car, staring out the window. "I don't understand, Alfred?"
Alfred turns to face Bruce while the car is stationary. "Master Bruce, you must understand, Harvey has been through a major traumatic event. The man you knew might have been lost to that acid." Alfred placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder.
Bruce shrugged it off. "I cannot afford to be seen playing friends to enemies against Harvey. That's the problem. I managed to pay the guy who took a photo off, so that's dealt with... For now."
Bruce sat up straight, his voice dropping. "I think we need to keep an eye on him. In there, he talked about being seen as a monster. My theory is he's having some kind of dysmorphia regarding his treatment."
Alfred looks at him curiously. "Please explain?"
Batman smiles. "Certainly. I believe he thinks his surgery was a failure. Like an anorexic believing they're fat, he thinks he is hideous despite having only a mild scar left. I fear he might go further into this, which will lead to mutilation."
Alfred starts driving back to Wayne Manor. "What do you think we should do?"
Batman looked at his watch. "Let's hire an investigator to keep an eye on him publicly, but I'll need the best of the best."
Alfred scowls. "Or perhaps you could be his friend and bring it up instead?"
Batman goes silent, staring into traffic before leaning back and rubbing his eyes. "God damn headaches."
Alfred was side-eying Bruce intensely. "So, what do you think, Master Bruce? Best to visit him tomorrow and check up, don't you think?"
Bruce perked up like a kid in class caught daydreaming. "Oh, yeah. I'll, um, arrange a gift basket and all that." Bruce opened the window for some air.
Bruce is busy studying for a law degree. In the span of a few short hours, he's managed to complete five years' worth of study.
"You know it's kind of batshit how you manage to cram so much into one day?" Dick appears at the top of the library balcony.
Bruce smiles. "Can't tell if I should be annoyed at the pun or the language... What's got you in such a good mood?" Bruce puts his book down, never letting his eyes off Dick.
"I know you've talked about me maybe turning more independent on my 18th, but I've caught a lead on something." Dick pulls out "Shiver" by Junji Ito. "Of all the people to read manga, it would be you, huh?"
Bruce smirks, taking his glasses off. "There's a detailed quality to him that's... Reflective of our work."
Bruce is now even more curious. "I gather that this has some relation to the case, or did you want to bring up that I'm a nerd?"
Dick opens the pages, revealing all the wonderful gore.
"Mid-20s Caucasian male spontaneously turned to chunks 7 minutes ago at an audition for 'Bikini Babes Love Waves.'" Dick was smiling. "You've got to admit, that sounds amazing, right?"
Bruce chuckles. "Okay, fine, go check the scene, but don't be a dick about it." He threw keys to the Batmobile at Dick. "Yes, I have puns too, and yes, if you damage the car, it's out of your allowance."
Dick smiles at Bruce and jumps down to hug him. "Thank you so much."
Bruce shoves him off. "Save it, show off. You embarrass me out there, and if you screw up, I'll tell Jim to update me on everything."
Tonight was the night Dick had been waiting for—the night he could prove he's a hero of his own!