Chapter Text
Thomas Wayne And Martha Wayne Welcomed Their Baby, Amelia Wayne
Gotham Gazette February 19, 1998
The Waynes Face Harsh Criticism For Establishing An LGBT Foundation
Gotham Gazette June 04, 2003
BREAKING NEWS: The Waynes Announce That Amelia Wayne Is Transgender, Her New Name Is Bruce Wayne
Gotham Gazette April 24, 2006
Amidst Criticism, The Waynes Expand Their LGBT Foundation To Offer More Help To Transgender Youth
Gotham Gazette November 15, 2006
BREAKING NEWS: Tragedy Strikes The Waynes, Martha and Thomas Wayne Brutally Murdered
Gotham Gazette November 03, 2007
Lucius Fox Steps In To Lead Wayne Enterprises Till Bruce Wayne Comes Of Age
Gotham Gazette December 14, 2007
Is Bruce Wayne Losing It? School Suspension and Hospital Visits Proves It
Gotham Gazette February 12, 2008
The First Anniversary of the Wayne’s Tragic Death, Bruce Wayne Donates One Million Dollars To Crime Prevention
Gotham Gazette November 03, 2008
Alfred Pennyworth Comes Under Fire For Putting Bruce Wayne On Puberty Blockers
Gotham Gazette March 23, 2009
Bruce Wayne Talks About Being Transgender, Many Are Asking, ‘What Even Is That?’
Gotham Gazette July 11, 2011
Wayne Enterprises Face Loss As Bruce Wayne Continues His Medical Transition
Gotham Gazette August 24, 2011
Bruce Wayne Graduates High School At Age 15, What Will He Do Now?
Gotham Gazette June 07, 2013
Gotham University Welcomes Bruce Wayne Into Its Gates, Will He Follow In His Father’s Footsteps And Become A Doctor?
Gotham Gazette August 14, 2013
Lucius Fox And Bruce Wayne Seen Going into Wayne Enterprises Together, Will Bruce Wayne Soon Take Over?
Gotham Gazette September 22, 2013
Bruce Wayne’s Voice Has Deepened? Has He Taken The Next Step In His Transition?
Gotham Gazette May 29, 2014
Bruce Wayne Drops Out Of Gotham University, Wayne Enterprises Investors Express Heavy Criticism As Stock Value Drops
Gotham Gazette November 18, 2015
BREAKING NEWS: Bruce Wayne Disappears, Alfred Pennyworth Remains Silent On The Matter
Gotham Gazette February 27, 2016
Gone For Another Year, Where Is Bruce Wayne Now?
Gotham Gazette May 31, 2018
Alfred Pennyworth And Lucius Fox Seen Together, Are They Facing The Reality Of Bruce Wayne Never Returning?
Gotham Gazette November 05, 2018
Bruce Wayne, Still Missing, There Is Growing Sentiment He Might Be Dead
Gotham Gazette March 09, 2019
BREAKING NEWS: A Bat-like Man Is Beating Up Criminals In The Streets Of Gotham, Gotham PD Investigates Mystery Man
Gotham Gazette January 23, 2020
After Months Of Investigating We Know Nothing Of The Batman, What Is He?
Gotham Gazette August 17, 2020
BREAKING NEWS: Bruce Wayne Returns, Looking Nothing Like He Did Before, Where Was He This Whole Time?
Gotham Gazette October 19, 2020
***
December 18th, 2020
Alfred always told Bruce that hiding his insecurities behind a mask did no good. At least not in the long term. But that was all that Bruce knew. He grew up that way, coped that way, and became the bat that way. So really, it’s no shock that Batman became another mask for Bruce to hide behind. Batman wasn’t known as a trans man. Batman wasn’t questioned daily about his gender. Batman could just exist as a man who wanted to do something; his gender was secondary to his cause. And Bruce couldn’t help but take comfort in that. He had finally found a place where he could be free of uncomfortable questions, lingering eyes, and of slip-ups that told him people still saw him as the girl he was born as or wanted to remind him they did. So, despite Alfred’s most well-meaning lectures, Bruce saw no issue with how he used the bat. Especially in a moment like this, standing on top of an abandoned building on the outskirts of Gotham, facing Detective Gordon.
“So, what are you?” Gordon took out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. A shaky hand pulling out a cigarette and the other flicking a lighter to live. He was nervous, Bruce observed. Bruce remained quiet, recalling all the times a similar question was asked of him when he was a teenager; back then it had made him feel trapped within people’s perception. But now Bruce just watched as Gordon took in an inhale of the cigarette, puffing it out into the dark sky. Bruce no longer felt trapped.
“We want the same thing, to make Gotham safer.” The voice modulator made Bruce’s voice deeper, croaker.
“Hmm, do we now?” Gordon turns to face Gotham's skyline in the distance. Was he testing Bruce? To see if he would attack once Gordon turned his back? Bruce frowned, making such a risky move just to get more information was foolish. “You called me here, via a creepy note left on my work desk, just to say that? How can I trust a man, that’s if you’re human at all, wearing a bat suit, running around the city, and beating up God knows who?”
Bruce watches his back and backs away slowly. He wasn’t here to answer every question Gordon had. He just wanted to tell him he wasn’t evil, even if Gordon didn’t believe him. Bruce felt he at least owed Gordon that much for being there for him when his parents were killed. By the time Gordon turns around Bruce is gone.
“Hello?” Gordon shouts as Bruce scales down the building as quietly as he can and disappears into the many shadows of Gotham City. He still had more information to collect, no point wasting more time on Detective Gordon.
Bruce pulled into the cave below the Wayne manor at 4:32 A.M., and as he stepped out of his car Bruce saw Alfred standing by the computers. Hoping Alfred was asleep was a lofty dream.
“Master Bruce, how wonderful for you to be back so early on this wonderful Monday morning. While you were out there was an emergency meeting set up for 8 A.M., so I suggest you try to catch any sleep that you can.” Alfred walks to Bruce, handing him a warm towel and taking the cowl from his hands. Bruce laid the towel on his head and the warmth almost lulled him to sleep.
“Alfred, couldn’t you tell them I was busy?” Taking off the bat suit was a workout of its own. Bruce huffed, he had to figure out a way to make this suit easier to take off.
“Hmm, maybe I could have done that if you had gotten back home at our agreed upon time,” Alfred lifted his left wrist, looking at his watch. “And oh, look, you’re a whole two hours and thirty-eight minutes late.”
Bruce looked away, his hands still fiddling with his chest armor. Alfred’s disappointment always tasted bitter, no matter how much of it Bruce had experienced. After Bruce talked to Gordon he continued his patrol. There was a new case of human trafficking that Bruce was working on and he couldn’t just go back home and sleep when he could get valuable information.
“You know I had important things to do, Alfred.”
“I understand that, Master Bruce. But, nonetheless, your health is important too. How can you help others if you aren't well? Think deeply about this, Master Bruce. Are you truly only doing this for others? Or does being the bat offer you some experience you never had as simply Bruce Wayne?” Alfred waited for a moment before he sighed and walked away, placing the cowl in the glass case designed for Bruce’s suit, and walking up the stairs into the manor. Bruce stood there, not having expected to be read so easily. His five years away from Alfred had made him forget how perceptive Alfred was. Was Bruce selfish for taking comfort in Batman? Since he’s come back to Gotham all anyone talks about is his transition. One invasive question after another. He was tired of it. Bruce finally got his leg armor off and he walked to the glass case, putting his leg and chest armor in place. Everything else came off relatively easily. Bruce walked to the shower that was past the training mats. He turned on the shower to the hottest temperature, threw the towel in the hamper, and continued to take off his under suit. No real injuries today. Just one sore spot on his lower back. He should have seen that guy coming. He needs to be better than everyone. He needs to get stronger. Stepping into the hot stream he sighed. He closed his eyes and let the water wash off the khol around his eyes. He still needed to update the case notes based on what he found today. And then, maybe he can catch an hour of sleep.
When he walked out of the shower and walked to the computer he saw a sandwich placed by the keyboard, with orange juice. Bruce smiled. He needed to be better for Alfred. It was the least he deserved after everything he had done for Bruce.
***
His alarm screeched at 6 A.M.. Bruce shot up, reaching over to his nightstand to turn off his phone alarm. He sat in bed for a minute. He had gotten to bed at 5:26. That was barely a power nap. He groaned as he heaved his legs off the bed, his lower back protesting. That bruise wasn’t going to allow Bruce to pretend it wasn’t there. Bruce scratched his scalp. It was still kind of wet from his shower earlier that morning. Alfred had left him a note next to his sandwich, explaining what the meeting was for and that it would be in Metropolis. A board meeting to talk about expanding into Metropolis was the last thing Bruce wanted to do. But expanding means more money and more money meant more good Bruce could do as Batman.
Bruce stood up. He had no time to waste. Getting to Metropolis would only take thirty minutes but traffic made that an hour. So he had to leave in forty-five minutes. He stripped off his shirt and sweatpants as he walked into his closet. Years ago, this routine would leave him feeling a shell of himself because nothing fit right. Even with puberty blockers and testosterone his body somehow still looked feminine. Getting bottom surgery and body masculinization surgery was the best thing Bruce had done in his five years away from Gathom. After recovering he could finally work on getting stronger without thinking about how his own body betrayed him. Now, as he looked in the mirror, with his tailored suit, Bruce truly saw himself. His height was still an issue but no amount of money could do anything about that. He was lucky enough to have had testosterone at sixteen. Imagining himself even shorter made him want to swear off Bruce Wayne and just become Batman forever. He didn’t want people to have any more reasons to question his gender.
As Bruce walked down the stairs he smelled eggs and tomatoes. He smiled. After coming back from his travels, which mainly were in the Middle East, he told Alfred about the various dishes he had eaten there. Shakshoka was one of his favorites. He quickened his pace, taking two steps at a time. He didn’t have much time left, twenty minutes max and he wanted to enjoy his breakfast for as long as he could.
“Good morning, Alfred,” Bruce said as he took his seat on the island chair, watching Alfred shake the black pepper shaker over the eggs. He brought the pan to Bruce with some warmed pita bread.
“Morning, Master Bruce. Any chai for you?” He walked over to the kettle, already preparing Bruce’s cup.
“Yes, Please. Thank you, Alfred. You should eat as well.” Bruce dug into the eggs. Eighteen minutes left. Alfred set a cup of chai in front of Bruce.
“It’s alright, sir. I’ve already eaten. I’ll prepare the materials you’ll need for the meeting,” Alfred said as he walked out of the kitchen. Fifteen minutes left. Bruce sipped his chai and winced. Too hot.
Getting to the meeting on time proved to be difficult. It was already 8 A.M. and the ETA still had fifteen minutes left. They had left on time but there was an accident on the way. Bruce already felt the headache he’d get from Lucius lecturing him later. This is why he hated going to Metropolis. It was too much in every single way that Bruce hated. Bruce tapped his finger on the seat cushion, looking outside at the people walking fast trying to get to work on time. The traffic hadn’t moved in ten minutes. When he looked at Alfred’s phone, the ETA was now twenty-five minutes. Bruce wanted to pull his hair out. The media already saw him as incompetent and odd, him being late to a meeting would only fan the flames of people’s gossip.
Bruce took out his phone and checked the ETA if he walked. Five minutes. He was practically already there. It was best if he walked. He grabbed his suitcase, hand already on the door handle and yelled over his shoulder as he got out of the car, “Alfred, I’ll walk, I’ll see you there!”
“Master Bruce, n-” but Bruce had already shut the car door and started speed walking down Clinton road, his phone held up in front of his chest as he looked down. He didn’t have to be as conscious of theft here, at least Metropolis had that over Gotham. Left turn on Asher St., which was right ahead. From there he’d only have to cross one crosslight and he would be at AnkerLin Enterprises' main building. He really hoped he didn’t look too sweaty. Being in a meeting with judgmental fifty-year-olds as a twenty-two-year-old trans man was already disadvantageous enough, he did not need to look disheveled.
He looked down one moment right before he turned left, to double check he had the right directions and so he could put his phone away. He’d be a couple minutes late, but who really cared about ten minutes anyway. As he was about to turn and put his phone away someone came full speed from the corner he was supposed to turn into and knocked into Bruce. Bruce felt like he had run into a wall going fifty miles per hour. He fell to the sidewalk, his suitcase clanked on the ground, his grip still tight on the handle, but his phone was knocked onto the ground as people continued to walk and step over it, sometimes even on it. The tiny cracking sounds did not sound promising. Huh. People in Metropolis weren’t nicer than Gathomites it seems. Bruce remained stunned as he stared at scuffed dress shoes. ‘What just happened?’ he thought. Maybe he should listen to Alfred, clearly his lack of sleep had compromised him.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m late to work and wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings! I’m so sorry!” A big hand was thrust in front of Bruce’s face, and as Bruce reached out his own hand he was grabbed quickly and pulled off his feet, his suitcase scratched against the floor as he went up. He looked up at the man. Disheveled didn’t do enough to describe him. He stood four inches taller than Bruce, even while he was hunched. Bruce frowned. He didn’t like this man. The man let go of his hand and pushed the people apart to grab Bruce’s phone. The crowd moved around them without a second glance their way.
“Here’s your phone, I hope it’s not broken or anything and if it is I’ll get you a new one, again I’m so sorry. Are you at all hurt?”
Bruce grabbed his phone and tapped the screen, then the power button. Looks like it was broken. When he looked up at the man’s face he saw pure terror. His comically large glasses were further down his nose and his curly black hair was everywhere.
“I’ll buy you a new-”
“It’s alright,” Bruce cut him off. The man clearly didn’t look like he had the money to spend on any phone. “And I’m fine. I was rushing as well so don’t worry about it,” Bruce said as he sidestepped the man and took the left on Asher St., not looking back at the man as he walked even faster than before. At least he memorized the way and didn’t need his phone anymore. Bruce sighed. Now he would be fifteen minutes late instead of ten. He hoped that fall didn’t make him look too unprofessional.
Bruce sat in the meeting room, everyone had gotten quiet when he had come in late and offered his apologies and excuses. He could read it on their face. They did not like him and they did not give a fuck about his excuses. Bruce could have lost an arm and came thirty minutes late and they would still be eyeing him with disdain. He didn’t think his transness was always the issue but, at times like this, he couldn't help but feel like his identity and their bigotry towards it was the real problem, not him being late. It was in their eyes, the way they went down his chest, looking for any sign of a ‘womanhood’ they expected him to have.
“Ahm, well since Mr. Wayne is finally here we can start the meeting,” Mr. Anderson said, looking down at the paper in front of him with a pen swirling between his fingers. He looked up again, this time looking directly at Bruce.
“We’re sorry for such a last minute change to our meeting, Mr. Wayne. Something unexpected came up but we are very glad you could make it this morning.” He looked at the rest of the board members, gesturing to the man on his left to speak up. Bruce doubted they really wanted him to show up, because who changed the meeting day at 2 A.M.? The other man finally spoke up.
“While you were running late, Ms- I mean Mr. Wayne, we all talked and went over the report on Wayne Enterprises. And, well, I don’t know how to say this without being crass, but we aren’t too confident in this collaboration. Additionally, we also aren’t confident in you as a CEO. It’s been what? Two months since you have returned and assumed your role? So, we’re sorry to say, but we don't think your proposal is within our current plans for AnkerLin.”
Hot shame swirled in Bruce’s gut. That slip-up felt intentional. But he didn’t have the power in this dynamic. Because what could he even say to that criticism? They doubted his ability and his company, and for good reason too. He could taste their bigotry but it was protected by a reality he couldn’t deny. Bruce had allowed himself to be in this position and he felt weak. Beneath the table Bruce’s pointer finger scratched at his thumb’s cuticle, rubbing it raw. He had to say something.
“I understand your hesitation, gentlemen. But Wayne Enterprises has been steadily gaining more power in Gotham. And as for me, well I cannot tell you to just trust me. Words mean nothing. But trust Lucius Fox and watch me in the coming months and I’ll prove I am capable.” He couldn’t screw this deal up. For all his training with Ra’s Al Ghul, Bruce was not fully prepared to make a case for himself as a CEO and for the company that his parents left him. He had become too consumed with Batman in this last year.
“Hmm,” Mr. Anderson hummed, staring straight at Bruce. “Well, I have no problem reevaluating this deal, say, in six months? Based on what we see then, we can have another discussion, Mr. Wayne.” The other board members looked at Mr. Anderson with disdain, clearly this was not what they had agreed upon. Bruce took in a breath, he seemed to have somewhat salvaged the situation. But Mr. Anderson’s quick agreement was odd, Bruce had to be careful around him.
“Thank you, Mr. Anderson,” Bruce stood and so did the rest of the board members. He shook hands with all of them, made the appointment with the secretary for six months time, and headed down the elevator to the parking garage, finally releasing the tension once he saw Alfred standing outside the elevator doors. Bruce needed to do better. For his parents, for Alfred, for Gotham.