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Bruce Wayne gripped the expensive leather armrests of the chair he was sitting in. His spine stiffened in anticipation as he watched the critical scene play out on the screen of his 85-inch TV. His perfectly tailored suit wrinkled as he shifted his weight to his feet, preparing himself to move quickly if the worst happened. His mind rapidly put together plans upon plans and ways the scenario might play out.
“I’ll tell you who The Batman is,” Coleman Reece said as sweat visibly ran down his temple. It was clearly seen, the expert live TV lighting couldn’t even help it. He looked as nervous as Bruce certainly felt. Of course, Bruce would never give an indication of nervousness. It was a sign of weakness.
“He’s-” Reece was cut off by a commercial that will be more remembered by the audience for the irritation it caused rather than the product it was selling.
“It seems like we’ll have to wait a little while longer Master Bruce,” Alfred spoke, standing slightly to the side of the chair and a little behind him. “Some tea while you wait?” Bruce shook his head no. Alfred may not show his concern outwardly, but it was always easy to indicate when he offered to supply tea at inopportune moments.
Bruce instead waited by glaring at the repetitive commercials playing out while letting his head spin with contingency plans.
“And we’re back! Sorry about that folks!” The host apologized while collective groans could be heard from the live audience. “Now for the moment you’ve been waiting for! Mr. Reece?
Coleman Reece gulped as he focused his eyes back on the camera, more slicked with sweat than before the commercial break. “The Batman. He’s Bruce Wayne.”
Bruce Wayne gave a long sigh. “I guess I’m going to have to really play up the dumb billionaire act for a while. Even dumber than before anyway.”
“It would be preferable, Master Bruce,” Alfred agreed.
***
Bruce Wayne hummed as he stepped out of his Rolls Royce Droptail. The media was in an uproar at the moment, the majority claiming that Bruce Wayne was too much of an idiot to be Batman, and anyone who even considered the possibility were just as dense. There was a small circle though, that thought that Bruce Wayne was a master theatric and had carefully curated a persona that would be a laughing stock in comparison to The Batman. The correct assumption of course. It was time for Brucie Wayne to make his first public appearance since the unveiling, and to act so ridiculous that even the people who thought he was a mastermind questioned themselves.
Cameras flashed at all angles as Bruce stepped out of the car. His name was shouted from all directions, but the word ‘Batman’ was a close second.
“Mr. Wayne, can you confirm that the Batman rumors are true?” Bruce paused and looked at the young blonde reporter who had asked the question. Bruce’s eyebrows tilted in confusion.
“Batman rumors?” He asked, letting a hint of excitement enter his voice.
“Are you Batman?” She clarified with a concentrated look on her face.
“Am I Batman?” Bruce looked around at all of the reporters. They were silent. The absence of incessant questions was quite eerie. It chilled Bruce. The answer to this question would make or break the media opinion on him.
“Duh,” Bruce pursed his lips and gave the crowd a look of disbelief. “Of course I’m Batman. Like come on Playboy, Billionaire, Vigilante? You've all heard of that right?” Silence. “Right?” Bruce rolled his eyes and held his hand back towards his car seat. “Come on girls, Batman is here to save you.” Two young beautiful women stepped out of the Rolls Royce with a giggle. Bruce wrapped his arms around their shoulders and started walking towards the five star restaurant he had strategically chosen for this outing. A prominent steakhouse with a high celebrity turnout. The perfect place to have reporters swarming.
“I’m Batman,” Bruce growled at the crowd in a very poor imitation of The Batman. The reporter’s faces bled disappointment. There was no new story here. It was time to write yet another article of the billionaires' childish antics. The first act was in motion.
***
Bruce twirled around the rooftop of a tall skyscraper. He was playing the part of a ditsy drunk who had a little too much to drink and as a result was putting himself in danger. He had been invited to a charity gala in Metropolis, and he was finding a way for it to not be a waste of time. It was just a way for the rich socialites of the world to feel good about themselves. They could donate the money without attending a ball where they spent over a tuition's worth of money on an outfit and gorged themselves on overpriced food.
“Bruce get down from there!” A worried onlooker shouted from the balcony below.
“Why would I do that?” Bruce slurred. “The view up here is to dieeee for.” He attempted a cartwheel while one of his hands was occupied with a glass of champagne. The cartwheel failed miserably, and the champagne sloshed all over Bruce’s expensive tuxedo. “Ah shoot,” He huffed. Gasps came from below as Bruce stumbled closer to the edge.
“Someone come dance with me,” He bowed theatrically to the crowd below him. “A moonlit rooftop dance is quite romantic is it not?” The crowd begged for him to get down. Bruce pouted. They should be begging for a dance with him. Not for him to get down.
“You know it’s not safe to be up here,” a steady but kind voice said from behind Bruce. He spun around to see Superman floating a few feet from the edge of the roof. Good. Just who he hoped for. This act wasn’t just for the citizens. He had to get the justice league off his tail as well. The Batman was not a person who trusted others easily.
“Oooh Superman.” Bruce approached, stumbling a little. He reached out trying to hold onto Superman’s shoulder, but instead lost his balance leaning forward and almost catapulting himself off the roof. Superman quickly stopped Bruce from falling over the edge before guiding him away and softly landing on the ground. A gentleman as always.
“Careful there Mr. Wayne.”
“Call me Brucie,” Bruce leaned forward again to grip one of Superman’s biceps. “Damn, you’re even bigger in person.” Bruce was able to catch a slight blush on Superman that most people would miss.
Superman carefully removed Bruce’s hand from fondling him. “I think it’s best to get you off this roof. People think you want to jump.”
“Aww people care about me! What else did they say? That my life is worth it?” Bruce swished his champagne glass with his other hand, looking disappointed when he realized it was empty. He turned it upside down and sighed as the last droplets fled their prison.
“Something like that,” Superman nodded earnestly. He took the champagne glass from Bruce and set it on the ledge. Somewhere where Bruce wouldn’t accidentally shatter it.
“Well my life is worth a lot! Like 12 billion or something. Dunno kinda lost track?” Bruce tilted his head in thought, clearly using a lot of brainpower.
“I don’t know if they meant it that way Sir,” Superman quirked his eyebrows at the ditziness of this man. Bruce Wayne surely could not be Batman, but then again, Batman was skilled enough to make you think what he wanted.
“I assure you some of them probably did,” Bruce mumbled under his breath. Something that the human ear wouldn’t catch.
Superman approached Bruce carefully. “Well how about we get you off this roof and to safety alright?”
“To safety?!” Bruce looked spooked. “Is there danger? Where’s the villain?"
“No. There’s no danger. You’re just kind of high up, and it would be best if we went inside.” Bruce Wayne was a handful.
“Well don’t worry about the villains,” Bruce said matter of factly. “You know why?” Superman shrugged his shoulders, motioning for Bruce to continue.
“Because I’m Batman,” He stated and then launched himself off the roof.
Superman stood in place for a moment. He was stunned. He peeked over the roof.
“WOAAAAHHH,” Bruce yelled on the way down. Okay. So, he wasn't Batman.
“Oh golly,” Superman said in realization and zipped over the edge, catching Bruce in record time.
“Hey, I had that!” Bruce huffed as Superman landed on the ground softly.
“Let’s not try that again okay?” Superman plastered a smile on his face. A handful indeed.
Bruce leaned in real close to Superman’s face, looking real serious. “Hey now I can’t just go revealing my super secret identity as Batman in front of everyone.”
“Now didn’t you announce to everyone the other day that you were in fact Batman? You’re not doing great at this secret identity thing then.” Superman set Bruce down.
“Ooh you’re good,” Bruce shook Superman’s hand energetically. “I see why they call you a master detective.”
“Yeah… Well I better get going,” Superman began to float again.
“Wait!” Bruce grabbed Superman’s cape. “What happened to my glass?”
Superman sighed and in seconds Bruce’s champagne glass was back in his hand. Filled with water it seemed. “Thanksss,” Bruce smiled endearingly at Superman before he took off for good. That went well. Act two is in motion.
***
“Master Bruce, the newspaper has arrived,” Alfred handed Bruce the daily newspaper. It was the morning after his rooftop stunt, and all things considered it went smoothly. Except for the bull-headed group who thought that he was now in cahoots with Superman to cover up his identity. He had considered the fact that some people might see Superman’s appearance as a little too convenient, but the data suggested that the reward was worth the risk. The only problem was that they were relentless, blowing up any form of social media with their conspiracy theory that Superman saving Bruce was a setup to throw everyone off Batman’s tail.
Bruce had made the front page of course, a picture of Superman holding him bridal style while Bruce gave him a dazed and charming smile. His expression soured. The picture would definitely drive crazy fans crazier. He scanned the article and even flipped through the rest of the newspaper. Thankfully, only his shenanigans were spotlighted in the paper. If the conspiracy theories hit mostly trustworthy news sources then his job would become way harder than it already was.
In any case, it was time to start brewing up crazier ideas.
***
Bruce slammed open the doors of the most popular club in Gotham. Socialites clung to VIP lounges, everyday citizens writhed on the dance floors, heavier drinkers crowded the bar, and the shadier people stuck to the shadowy corners. The point was, every type of person in Gotham was present.
Not much attention was caught from opening the doors flamboyantly. The club was dark with flashing neon lights that would send any type of epileptic straight into a seizure. The DJs kept the music at an ear bleeding volume, and the exotic dancers on poles attracted most of the attention of the glazed-eyed clubbers.
He would change that soon enough though. He swept into the crowd and immediately activated his flirtatious charm. A dazzling smile, a secret wink, a devilish smirk. All of it was in his arsenal as he moved across the dance floor. Women and men alike clamored at him. The hottest gossip in town was here. A brunette woman with a tight, well-fitted top confidently approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. She leaned in, and Bruce bent down to her height. Her lips brushed his ear as she asked for a dance. He replied by reaching for her waist and swaying to the beat.
Bruce glided his way across the dance floor. He exchanged partners on the way to the front and oftentimes, danced with multiple people at once. The majority of the club was aware that he was there now, and everyone wanted a piece.
He fixed his gaze on the DJ, his objective of course, was to make a fool of himself. Bruce had to admit, even though he outrageously embarrassed himself almost on the daily and couldn’t help but cringe, it was fun at times.
Bruce loosened the tie of his well-tailored suit, popping the first few buttons as well. Once he was close enough to the DJ, he hopped up to the raised area with drunken grace. The DJ gave him an irritated look. He opened his mouth to tell Bruce off when his eyes filled with recognition. Bruce flashed a handful of $100 bills his way, and the DJ immediately granted Bruce access to his setup. He grinned charmingly and handed the money over.
Bruce headed straight for the microphone. He picked it up and killed the music. A wave of groans and protests could be heard from the crowd. “Now wait one second there,” Bruce’s voice echoed throughout the room. “We’re just getting this party started.”
“As many of you know, I am Batman.” Bruce was met with the sound of laughter. Good. Good. “And I’m going to show you how Batman parties!” Bruce turned the volume of the music almost all the way up. He turned back to the DJ. “Play something that I can get down to.” He tossed another $100 his way.
Bruce hopped to the side of the DJ booth where one of the poles was located. “Mind if I borrow this for a second?” He flashed the dancer a smile. She gave him a sly smirk and nodded. Bruce slipped her $100. His pockets were endless, hopefully he wouldn’t have any pockets in a second though. The DJ started up a beat and Bruce started twirling on the pole, testing the waters. He kept an eye on the crowd’s reaction. They screamed and hollered, pulling out their phones to film Bruce Wayne’s newest stunt.
As the beat of the music increased Bruce lifted himself off the ground. His muscles strained against his shirt as he worked the pole. He would have to get that out of the way soon. Once he completed the rotation, he set his feet down and had his back to the pole. He faced the crowd and swayed as he undid more buttons on his shirt.
They were going wild. Bruce shimmied out of his shirt suggestively and threw it into the sea of people. They scrambled after it, likely tearing it apart trying to get their hands on it. Bruce gave his playboy smile as he reached for the pole once more. The bright lights on him definitely accentuated his toned muscles, and the core strength required to pole dance definitely highlighted them even more. He was pretty certain that the majority of the crowd was drooling. He got more bold with his pole dancing moves. No one would question why the billionaire had this set of skills, he was seen in places with poles often enough that it was a known fact that Bruce loved clubbing. He swung up and spread his legs before then wrapping them around the pole again and swinging upside down. The pants really had to go. They were hindering Bruce’s flexibility, and that was something he wanted to show off.
He undid the belt and slowly unzipped his pants. A woman right in front of the pole was basically foaming at the mouth. A few people had begun throwing dollar bills up at Bruce. He chuckled and reached for his wallet. He started throwing $100 dollar bills out at the crowd. They started climbing over each other to get the money. Once he was out, Bruce threw his wallet as well. Nothing of importance in there. Now that his pockets were empty, he gracefully shrugged out of his pants, which was a feat since they were so form fitting to his muscled body.
Bruce was now dancing in front of a club filled with hundreds, maybe thousands of people in nothing but his boxer briefs. He saw the flash of hundreds of cameras. It was so loud in the building that he could practically hear nothing.
Bruce pulled out a few more moves before he started twerking on the pole. He couldn’t believe it for himself for a moment. He was completely sober, shaking ass on a pole, but then again that was the whole point. No one would expect the stoic and dark Batman to be this flamboyant. It was why Brucie Wayne was a great identity to hide behind. Even trying to think of the two personas being the same person would give someone a major migraine.
The crowd roared as Bruce fell into the splits on the final note of the song. He made no move to get up for a few seconds, and he let the crowd quiet down. When Bruce stood up he bowed. “THANK YOU!” He shouted to the crowd, and they roared again.
His work here was done.
***
Rain pounded the nasty asphalt of Gotham’s streets. The runoff swirling into the sewers was a black sludge probably mixed with every disease known to man. Batman crouched on a rooftop, watching a scene play out below him. The rain didn’t bother him, instead it helped him with his stealth. Three crooks cornered a woman in a dark alley. Batman surveyed the scene, making sure there were no other hostiles present before jumping in.
Once his scan was complete, he jumped down silently dispatching the man at the back of the pack with an arm around the throat and a hand covering the mouth. The other two men didn’t notice, but the woman’s eyes widened slightly.
“Yeah, you should be scared,” one of the slimy men chortled, clearly taking her surprise as fear.
Batman moved just as silently to the next man, taking him out before Slimeball noticed. He crept up behind him and growled into his ear. “She isn’t the one that should be scared.”
Once Slimeball was dealt with, Batman turned to the woman.
“T-thank you,” she said shakily.
“Do you have a safe way home?” Batman responded gruffly.
“Yes, m-my boyfriend is on his way,” She raised her phone to show that she was currently on a phone call with someone.
“Good,” Batman grunted. He quickly tied up the men and contacted the police before jumping up and disappearing into the shadows of the night. He sat back on the same roof from earlier, making sure that the woman’s ride arrived before tackling the inky depths of Gotham.
This is why keeping his identity a secret was important. If Batman was tied to the bubbly and dumb personality of Brucie Wayne, then his fear factor would diminish greatly. Fear was what kept the criminals of Gotham on a leash. He would have to work even harder to bury the allegations. For the good of Gotham.