Episode 11: Red Meat Off the Bone

Lois and Clark meet at Wayne Manor under the guise of an interview to discuss their new life as League members. The situation with symbols on congressman develops.

            The doorbell rang at Wayne Manor and Alfred approached the foyer.

“They’ve arrived, Master Wayne!” He called up the stairs. He walked slowly to give Bruce as much readying time as possible before the guests came in.

            Alfred opened the door and beheld Clark Kent and Lois Lane standing there, work bags in hand and fully clothed in their professional attire. He let them in, took their shoes and coats, and lead them through the house. He was leading them to the dining room but taking a more circuitous route to ensure that Bruce had all the time he could ever need to make his way from the bedroom. He found that drawing things out didn’t burden the two, as they had never seen a manor of this scope before. They seemed to enjoy the tour.

“He keeps suits of armor in his house?” Clark asked, walking through the east wing.

“Oh yes.” Alfred said. “During his early teenage years Master Bruce had something of an obsession for arms and armaments. He collected pieces of such quality and accuracy he was contacted by the Art Institute of Chicago on the possibility of becoming a donor.”

“Did he give any?”

“I believe so. It’s been so many years since then I can’t recall.”

            Lois and Clark stared boggle-eyed at each new piece of extravagant wealth they walked past. A cabinet full of fine china, a set of jewelry on full display. They shuttered to wonder what kind of haughty things he kept in his garage, or his bedroom.

“This place is more like a museum than a home.” Lois said, to nobody in particular but still expecting a response.

“Master Wayne prefers to keep his most monetarily valuable possessions open to the eye. He says it keeps him thankful for the many blessings he has.”

“I’m sure his dates like it too.”

“That’s most certainly a part of it yes.”

“How many girls does he usually take back here?”

“Well that depends,” Alfred began “do you mean at the same time, or over a period of time?”

            Lois gagged, Clark chuckled. Neither could believe the hilarity of it all. Clark, knowing the truth about Bruce Wayne, couldn’t help but marvel at how deeply he committed to the bit of being the playboy rich kid. He kept up the persona of money, girls and cars so well even Clark failed to remember it was fake. Lois, having not known the secret, took this to mean this is exactly who Bruce Wayne was and he was no better than the gang members putting diamonds on their teeth or the rock stars shoveling drugs up their nose. How could any decent human being with a college degree and a prominent family reputation have so much money and yet squander it all on their own personal pleasures? Has Bruce even stepped in this room in the past few days? Or is it just more decadent wealth his servants have to maintain? Disgusting.

            She wasn’t sure why they were here in the first place. She figured it had something to do with the truth about Batman. It made too much sense to not be. How else could Batman afford all the gadgets and that supercar of his? There’s no way Clark could ever have these lunches with Bruce every day unless it was a coverup for something else, and Superman meeting Batman would be a sufficient event. But why are they meeting here to learn that news? Was Lucious Fox going to be here? Why would he be here and not at Wayne International Plaza? Does Bruce Wayne force him to come here rather than him getting his lazy ass out of bed? Typical.

            The group arrived at the dining room table, or rather the table in the sunroom that sat four people. The actual dining room table was too massive to accommodate only three people, so they planned to sit in the sun room and have a white board rolled in for use during the research section of the day. They set their bags on the floor by their chair legs and took a seat at each spot. Alfed turned on the tv and set Spotify playing LoFi music.

“Master Wayne is getting ready, he should be down shortly. Lunch will be served in a matter of minutes. Would anyone like something to drink?”

“To drink? It’s 12:15.” Lois gawked.

“That means water, we’ll both have water.” Clark said, keeping the mood light.

“Right away.” Alfred responded.

            Alfred left the room and gave the couple a moment of quiet. Clark took this opportunity to try and get his fiancé in a more charitable mood, and work out some of her pent up feelings.

“I’m sorry you have to work on your first day being engaged. That’s no fun, is it?”

“Eh.” Lois replied. “Most people do it. I was sort of looking forward to it, I would get to show off the ring to everybody at the office. I’m upset that I have to spend it here.”

“It’s a little distasteful I admit. But you don’t think it’s fun to be entertained by someone super rich for an afternoon?”

“Its so gross. Do you know the good I could do with half the money he makes? You could pay for every homeless man in the country to have a decent apartment building for the rest of their life and still have money to spare. And all he does with it is use it to lure more impressionable young women into his bedroom.”

“Come on now, he does good things.”

“Does he? Does he really? Or does he just pay for good things to happen so he doesn’t look like a dick? Because there’s a big difference between researching a bunch of charities and deciding one is worth your money, and just cutting a check so marketing can make you look good.”

“You don’t think being Batman is a good thing?”

“He’s not actually Batman, he just pays for Batman.”

“…Yeah he is.”

“What?”

“He’s actually Batman.”

“…no.”

“Yeah he is. He puts on the suit, he fights the crime, he’s the real guy.”

            Lois stared at Clark for long enough for it stop being funny and her brow furrowed. He was kidding. He had to be. There is no way that self-centered playboy was the same man as the one that put on the armored suit and punished criminals with his bare hands. How could he be? He’s not built that way. Both mentally and physically. Lois had interviewed him so many times, he was average to skinny in build. This had to be a joke, but Clark didn’t play those kind of jokes.

“There’s no way.” She said, feeling the frustration.

“There’s no way what?” A voice said from the sunroom doorway.

            Bruce Wayne finally arrived. He was walking agonizingly slowly and using a cane to assist him. He was wearing a suit, in fact by sheer coincidence he was wearing the exact same suit as the one he wore the day Lois interviewed him in Wayne International Plaza. The jet black made him almost a single mass it was so dark, which Lois fixated on particularly hard now. Had he always worn that suit when meeting her? It concealed the shape of his body perfectly. Was it a method of hiding his muscle mass? She couldn’t remember now.

“Bruce! Great to see you!” Clark said, standing and helping his friend. “Thank you so much for having us in your home.”

“Please, it’s no trouble.”

“Let me help you to a chair, what happened? Why the cane?”

“Something stupid. I’ll tell you about it later. I’m ok, don’t worry, just moving a little slow. Nice to see you Lois.”

“Hi” Lois said, studying him as he crept to the chair across from her at the round table. “Nice to see you too.”

            Bruce fell into his chair with the exhausted grunt of someone truly in pain. He clutched his stomach as he landed, placing his hand conveniently in place to unbutton the bottom button of his suit jacket. A gentleman’s move so choreographed it almost hurt. Lois stared in utter disbelief at the figure before her. She had directed so much vocal ire at him over the years, how could he possibly be the same hero that saved countless lives?

“Something with your stomach?” Clark asked, noticing his hand.

“Bad lobster?” Lois asked, dismissively.

“Ha, I wish. It’s really no big deal, I’ll tell you later if you really want to know. Why are we talking about me, anyway, you two are engaged! Congratulations!”

            Clark smiled and took her hand. His infectious, loving smile bled onto her and she cracked at the sight of it. It didn’t matter how perturbed by Bruce she was, seeing him so happy always warmed her heart. Of course, the engagement lifted her spirits as well.

“Thanks, man.” Clark said. “It’s so surreal to me. I mean, I can’t believe she actually said yes to me!”

“Stop,” Lois blushed, “you’re the one with the raw deal here. Don’t forget all of my student loan debt is about to become OUR student loan debt.”

“Oh I’ll take care of that.” Bruce said. “I kind of have to. It’s a government thing. Justice League members and family members can’t have any debt or any active credit history or else people could figure out who they are. You’ll be paying for everything with cash for now on. Do you have any other debt I can clear up?”

            The table fell silent. The three traded glances back and forth as they waited for one to break the tension first. Bruce jumping into Justice League discussions so soon felt jarring and uncomfortable. The news was still fresh on everyone’s mind, and Bruce was acting like it was old hat. They weren’t sure how to take this.

            Bruce of course, not knowing what was keeping them silent, assumed this was because Lois Lane didn’t know the big news yet.

“You told her, right? You said you’d tell her.”

“I told her, for sure.”

“Ok then, what’s the problem?”

            Another pause entered the room. Lois took another look at Clark, asking permission in a way. She was crumbling under the confused rage, but she didn’t want to disrupt the afternoon and ruin the mood. Infuriatingly, Clark didn’t get the stare and wasn’t able to give non verbal permission. He just stared back with a face of dopey perplexion. This added annoyance gave Lois the adrenaline she needed to rip the Band-Aid off.

“Who’s actually the Batman?”

“Lois!”

“Oh drop it Clark! We both know there’s no way this rich kid can do what Batman does. I know you just pay for everything, who’s the real guy?”

            It’s possible there is a timeline of events where Bruce Wayne was offended by this attack of his character and disrespect. But if such a timeline exists, it’s not the one Bruce was living in, because he felt a flash of pride and genuine joy at the entire experience.

            First of all, he liked this side of Lois. Anyone not afraid to ask questions like that deserved respect in his book. Things weren’t adding up, she was getting down to the truth. He saw himself in that behavior and it strengthened his belief that this woman was right for Clark. Besides he loved passion in all regards. He was surrounded by so many media trained, emotionless automatons at work that someone showing genuine passion for something made them an instant breath of fresh air.

            Second of all, Lois’s skepticism meant the disguise was working. Lois was one of the more credulous and cynical members of the general public. People like her were the hardest to convince of a lie, and she was living proof that Bruce had them hook line and sinker. He put hard work and many man hours into this loathsome persona, so to hear it was working so well was reassuring. So the response he was brewing up was not one of anger or retaliation, he planned to respond with reason and compassion, as he didn’t take anything she said personally. Planned to, but didn’t get to, as Alfred walked in with the cooking staff to present lunch.

“Here we are, sorry for the wait.” He said, leading his crew. “We have here gnocchi in a homemade meat and marinara sauce, served along side wild rice and sauteed salmon. The fish has a sauce made by Master Wayne’s personal chef and has remained a secret recipe for years, but the base we know for sure to be Dijon mustard. It has been…what in God’s name are you wearing?”

            Alfred’s sudden shift to anger and subject change was pointed squarely at Bruce, who didn’t seem to understand where the hostility was coming from. He raised his hands in confusion before tentatively replying “the suit?”

“Absolutely not!” Alfred scolded. “Much too tight! I told you to wear something loose and comfortable. Your injury will never heal if you keep treating your body with such contempt!”

“Alfred, it’s fine.”

“It is not! You cannot keep doing this. I will retrieve a change of clothes for you, take that jacket off in the meantime. I’m sure your guests prioritize your physical well being over banal social graces, you’ll be fine.”

            Alfred stormed out, presumably to fulfill the words he barked so sternly. Bruce rolled his eyes and sighed, but reluctantly he did obey. Alfred’s words still held sway in Bruce’s heart even after all these years. He stood up slowly using his cane as a crutch, and unbuttoned the top button on his suit jacket. He slid it off and revealed the white dress shirt underneath, and put any doubts about his nightly activities to rest.

            The shirt was holding on by a thread. His muscles extended so large they were rendering the fabric see-through in some places. It looked so scandalous it would somehow be less scandalous to be wearing no shirt at all. Lois’s jaw hit the floor as she beheld the living proof that was this Greek sculpture. There was no other profession that could create this kind of form. No amount of gym training could create a body like this. You only got this unrealistically enormous by fighting man eating crocodiles, and chasing villains made for the man of steel. He was Batman, without a doubt.

“Holy shit.” Lois gawked.

“Honey!”

“How the fuck” Lois growled as Bruce sat back down “have you kept it a secret for so long?!”

“VPN’s.” Bruce sarcastically replied.

“You’re actually Batman?! You’re the guy who puts on the batsuit and flies around Gotham city beating up murderers?!”

“I glide. I don’t fly.”

“You stopped the metropolis butcher?!”

“Locked him in Arkham myself.”

“You of all people are the guy that puts Joker behind bars every time he breaks out?!”

“Joker, Scarecrow, Riddler, all of them.”

“How?!”

            Bruce was about to answer, but he was once again interrupted by Alfred walking in with a folded t-shirt in his hands.

“I can’t believe you spent thirty minutes getting ready just to defy my one request.” He growled, setting the shirt down on Bruce’s lap and leaving the room.

            Bruce Wayne cleared his throat and started undoing the buttons on his shirt. They all found it strikingly indecent that he would change right in front of them but as soon as the shirt actually came off they all realized why. He had a bruise on his chest the size of a basketball. There was an obvious center to the wound and it spread out around him like an invasive species. Clark and Lois both had experience with gunshot wounds, but even a layman would be able to tell what happened. There was no other possible impact that could do the same kind of damage as this.

            It was frankly grotesque, and it momentarily put both of them off their meals. With the wound so centralized in Bruce’s sternum it gave the viewer an uncomfortable sensation of tightness in their own chests. It changed both of their perspectives on Bruce, in some minor, and some major respects.

            To Clark, this gunshot wound was another painful reminder that Bruce was only human. He wasn’t invincible, and he certainly wasn’t unstoppable. He still got hurt, he still made mistakes, and he was still capable of losing like everyone else was. This past stretch of time with global dramas and serial killers looming made Clark forget just how much his friend needed these little lunches, and how much human sympathy he was in need of. It reminded him not to panic, and to let Bruce take his recovery slowly.

            To Lois, this was a message that Bruce Wayne sacrificed more than she knew. Even after learning he was Batman, she still wasn’t convinced that made him a good person. Batman was grossly overqualified for most of the things he does, and beating the tar out of a homeless man because he stole something from a convenience store doesn’t make you a hero. And while of course taking a bullet to the chest doesn’t make you a messiah either, it did make Bruce appear much more vulnerable, and lay doubt to the mental image of the invincible billionaire beating poor people to a pulp because he doesn’t like them. Lois decided to take her judgmental tone down a notch, and do more observing before she formed a new opinion. She still wasn’t certain Bruce wasn’t the man she had watched him to be, but now she needed more proof. As soon as Bruce had worked his t-shirt carefully over his broken body, Clark asked the big question.

“Who shot you?”

“I don’t know. I saw the shooter. I’m just trying to find his identity.”

“Are you going to be ok?”

“I’m fine. Nothing’s permanent. Just bruised ribs, organs and muscles. I’ll make a full recovery.”

“You shouldn’t go out tonight if your lungs or heart are bruised.”

“As soon as that’s an option I’ll let you know.”

“It can’t be that bad, you have to be able to take at least one night off.”

“I’ve taken many nights off, and I’ve spent them in Metropolis, dealing with serial killers, parties and investigating Lex Luthor.”

            The room became uncomfortably quiet. The only sound was the occasional scraping of silverware as appetites slowly returned. While Bruce understood the feeling of guilt Clark might’ve been feeling, it seemed silly to be guilty for asking someone to do something. Clark knew what an imposition it was on his schedule, and he needed the help bad enough that he still asked. Why is he feeling guilty now? To stem the flow, Bruce interjected.

“What have you two found on the congressman symbols?”

            The two looked at each other and silently negotiated how they were going to handle this. Lois spoke up, breaking the hard truth.

“We have nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Yeah. He only had two days to research this, I only had four hours. We couldn’t find anything.”

“So what did you do with those four hours?”

“Looked into the congressman?”

“And?”

“He’s just your usual government jerk.” Clark said after a pause. “Passes laws to make himself rich, super old, super out of touch with the rest of the world, secret pedophile. He was emblematic of everything that’s wrong with the heads of government today. But considering that that kind of behavior is more standard than not I’d say he was completely unremarkable.”

“And because he was so unremarkable he was murdered.”

“Bruce, what did you expect? We had no time.”

“You still have no time. We need answers now. Have you seen the crime scene?”

“No, I heard it was bad.”

“He was crucified.”

“What?”

“Crucified. He had his wrists and ankles nailed to a wooden cross and he bled to death inside his own home. He was left there for sixteen hours before somebody noticed. The symbol, by the way? On his back? Gone. Disappeared. No scar tissue, no sign of removal or washing. It just vanished from his personage, so nobody on earth but you, me and Lois know anything about it.”

“And Joker?”

“…he isn’t involved.”

“Oh.”

“So in other words, we are about to die in the water. Leads are drying up fast and we need something to go on.”

“Well we don’t have anything.”

            Bruce rolled his eyes and silence once again took over the table. Lois spoke up next, concerned about some of the situations she had been made privy too.

“He told me Lex Luthor was tracking him. Is that…true?”

            Bruce looked back over, and tried to come up with the answer she would want to hear.

“Yes it’s true. Are you worried about his safety or yours?”

“Both.”

“Don’t worry about his.” Bruce leaned in slowly, to go into deeper explanations. “Luthor doesn’t have much. He has snippets of flight data, and math that doesn’t check out. He has a lot of it, but it doesn’t amount to much. It looks right now like our larger concern is him fabricating some batch of nonsense to frame Superman than it is him actually finding real info.”

“Like the France thing?”

“Yeah. Like the France thing.”

“And what about mine?”

“If Luthor ever finds out Clark’s identity you are going to be his first target. He’ll have government support too, so he won’t have to worry about the police or anything. He’ll break into whatever home you have on record, take you from it and use you as a weapon against Superman.”

            The couple immediately locked eyes. They knew the risks coming into this life, but being faced with them was a different thing altogether. They started coming up with ways to circumvent this issue, and found ideas lacking.

“You can…move in with my parents?” Clark said, trying to console her.

“That’s not sustainable.”

“I know, but how else can you live anywhere without your name being attached to it?”

“Simple.” Bruce said. “She either lives here, or she lives in one of my apartments. Pick somewhere you like, I’ll buy it, put everything under my name, and you will just live there.”

“I appreciate the offer but you really don’t need to spend that much money on me.”

“It’s not an offer.”

            Lois and Clark turned to face him, startled by the darkening of tone.

“You know who I am. You know Justice League secrets. Your safety is now officially my concern. You will live somewhere safer than 701 S Madena Street Apartment 6B or else you put my name at risk. That never works out the way people think.”

            After a brief pause, Lois responded “are you trying to intimidate me?”

“Yes. You should be scared. You should be terrified of what might happen to you if this pointless risk were to go poorly for you.”

“Clark can protect me from you.”

“You think I’m the problem? You think I would come after you? Me coming after you to protect my own interests is the best case scenario. I’m talking about Joker. Do you know the things he has done? Do you know who to? Do you know the punishment that comes from even the remotest civilian saying they are a friend of Batman? I’ll hunt for you alright. I’ll hunt you down with every last breath I have left in my body, because God knows that it would be your last shriveling hope glaring pathetically at the moon as Joker’s thugs shovel dirt onto your broken body as they bury it in a shallow grave.”

            The occupants could no longer summon energy to keep conversation up. The mood had been so sharply brought down it was impossible to even find words to say, let alone find the motivation to say them. They ate slowly to hide their discomfort but such things never work. Clark thought about finding an excuse to step out, when he was mercifully rescued by Alfred.

“How is everyone doing? Have you put on the shirt Bruce? Ah yes, I see you have and I also see…that we haven’t eaten much. Is something the matter?”

“She just learned I’m Batman.”

“Oh dear, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry young lady, that’s always a difficult day. You always have an ally here, if you need anything you can call the house or come around any time.”

“Thanks, Alfred.”

“Absolutely. Has there been any progress on the symbol situation or the France situation?”

“No.” Bruce said.

“That is disappointing. But, I may be able to provide some relief. I’ve been monitoring Madam Waller’s communications as you asked. She was present at a meeting with the Department of Defense, and as she’s a large head in security, she got to see all of the x-rays of people present. She sent them to a colleague, and thus, we have them.”

            Alfred laid a few printed pages onto the center of the table. X-ray scans, infrared and thermal imaging, and a layer-by-layer breakdown of each person in attendance. Of the thirty-six individuals at that meeting, seven of them bore the same mark as the congressman from California. The group stared at them both in disbelief and wonder.

“Does Waller know what this is?” Bruce asked.

“Not in the slightest. Her confidant she sent it to replied in a very cryptic manner. I’m no expert in psychoanalysis but I would say they were hiding something.”

“The last man to have this symbol died two days later.”

“Then I suppose you’d best get started.”

“Where should I start?” Clark asked, preparing to launch into action.

“Rally them up. All of them. Tell them their lives are in danger, secrecy won’t be helpful. I’ll talk to this friend of Waller’s.”

“Need anything from me?” Lois asked, eager to help in her first big mission.

“Yeah. Find a new apartment.”