Chapter Two: Cold Blood in the Boardroom
The sun had barely risen over Gotham's skyline when Bruce Wayne strode through the glass doors of Wayne Enterprises. He moved with purpose, his steps echoing through the pristine halls of his empire. The pristine suit he wore did nothing to hide the cold steel underneath. This was not the Bruce Wayne Gotham had once known. This wasn't the charming, playboy billionaire with a heart for the city.
No, that man died with his family.
This Bruce Wayne had come back, but the warmth was gone, replaced by an eerie calm. His muscles, though smaller in size as Bruce Wayne compared to Batman, still carried a power that filled the room with tension. He didn't even glance at the employees in the lobby as he made his way to the elevator. His eyes, though devoid of the red glow from last night, were still as cold as ever.
Upstairs, in the executive boardroom, the vultures had already gathered. The board of Wayne Enterprises had been planning this coup for weeks, maybe months. Bruce's year-long absence had given them the perfect excuse. The paperwork was drawn up; the vote was scheduled for 9:00 a.m. sharp. They thought they were about to oust Bruce Wayne from his own company.
They were dead wrong.
Bruce entered the room without knocking, the double doors swinging open as he stepped inside. The board members, mid-conversation, froze. Some had their phones in hand, others were sipping coffee, smirking at each other. That smirk died fast.
The chair at the head of the table was empty. Bruce's chair. He made a beeline for it, ignoring the murmured protests and awkward glances. The moment he sat down, he leaned back, folding his hands in front of him, a shark waiting to feast.
"I see the snakes have gathered early today," Bruce said, his voice low and venomous.
Randolph Keegan, one of the most pompous bastards on the board, cleared his throat. "Bruce. We weren't expecting you today."
Bruce's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Clearly."
"Given your prolonged absence, the board felt—"
Bruce cut him off with a raised hand. "Save it, Keegan. I don't need a lecture from a man who couldn't manage a lemonade stand, let alone Wayne Enterprises."
Keegan's face turned beet red, but he held his tongue. The rest of the board looked uneasy. They'd never seen Bruce like this. Not so… deadly.
"Let me guess," Bruce continued, his voice as casual as a man discussing the weather. "You've gathered here to vote me out. Claim I'm unfit to lead. Is that about right?"
Silence. No one wanted to confirm it, but it was obvious.
Bruce stood, walking slowly around the table, trailing a finger along the polished mahogany surface. "You all saw this as your chance. The great Bruce Wayne vanishes for a year, and suddenly, the sharks start circling. It was a nice plan. But you forgot one thing."
Keegan swallowed hard. "And what would that be?"
Bruce stopped, his eyes narrowing on the man. "This company is mine. It's in my blood. My father built it. I made it what it is today. And I'm back now. Permanently."
One of the other board members, a balding man named Winston Jaspers, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Bruce, no one's saying you didn't—"
Bruce's glare silenced him immediately. "You're all fired."
The room went dead silent.
"Excuse me?" Keegan sputtered. "You can't just—"
"I just did." Bruce smiled, and this time, it was anything but warm. "I'm invoking Article 16, Section 9 of the Wayne Enterprises bylaws. I can dissolve the board at will."
Keegan stood, furious now. "That clause hasn't been used in decades! You can't seriously—"
"Oh, I'm very serious," Bruce said, stepping closer, his tone turning icy. "You've all been plotting behind my back, thinking you could turn Wayne Enterprises into your personal piggy bank. You don't belong here. I'm offering severance packages. Generous ones, I might add. But make no mistake—you're done."
The board members exchanged glances, shocked and panicked. Keegan's face turned a sickly shade of white. He was about to say something when Bruce cut him off.
"You have until noon to clear out your offices," Bruce added, his voice growing darker. "If you're still here by then, I'll make sure security drags you out by the scruff of your neck."
Keegan's lip trembled with barely contained rage. "You'll regret this, Wayne."
Bruce smirked. "No. You will."
Keegan stormed out, the rest of the board following behind him in stunned silence. Only one man remained seated at the table.
Lucius Fox sat calmly, watching Bruce with a mixture of respect and mild unease. "Quite the entrance, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce nodded and sat back down. "Lucius. You're staying."
Lucius smiled. "I figured."
"I need you as my Vice President. Things are going to be different around here. No more backstabbing suits trying to cash in on my absence."
Lucius leaned back, rubbing his chin. "I assume this means the return of Bruce Wayne as CEO?"
Bruce's expression darkened. "It means I'm taking full control. Not just of the company. Of everything. Gotham needs to be brought back in line. And so does this city's economy. Anyone who crosses me will pay for it."
Lucius hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Bruce… I know things have changed. But don't let the anger consume you."
Bruce's eyes flickered with something—maybe regret, maybe fury—but it was gone in an instant. "It's not anger, Lucius. It's focus. And if people get in my way, they'll learn just how focused I can be."
Lucius nodded, but there was a heaviness in the air that made it clear this wasn't the Bruce Wayne he had once known. This man—this version of Bruce—was colder, more calculated. The Bat was back, but not the hero they'd once counted on.