Chapter Text
I’ll never get over the feeling of traveling to a new, big city. I know that feeling already, especially when I first moved to Metropolis, but nothing could have prepared me for my visit to Gotham. Peering out of the windows of the shuttle filled me with nerves. Seeing the tall and narrow concrete buildings, and the gloomy clouds that loomed over the city like a bad thought. The architecture and weather was the opposite to what I have back home, with our glass skyscrapers that shot into the sky and our joyful, cloudless days. Gotham felt imposing and threatening, which with the reputation it has, that description fit nicely.
Despite my trepidation, I was in fact excited for my visit to such a famous city, even if that reason was for work. The Daily Planet assigned me the task of interviewing the elusive Bruce Wayne, the billionaire playboy philanthropist who is the sole reason the city hasn’t crumbled to ashes. Gotham was in some dire straits a few years back, many high profile criminals and villains treated the city like their own sandbox and trashed the whole place. Bruce was able to rally the people into saving Gotham. He even managed to get Batman to help clean up the streets by directly calling for his action. But ever since those years of rebuilding, he has been radio silent. Even though he seems like such a great person, he is now seen as infamous in the city due to his frequent disappearances when the city needs him the most; which is why this interview is so important.
A curious thing about this interview is that it was proposed by Bruce himself, with him making the offer to sit for an interview. Weirdly enough, he picked me specifically to hold the interview. I felt some sort of pride about this, getting noticed by such an important figure was a cool feeling, then I had to second guess it. Why me? Besides the obvious, there isn’t anything particularly interesting about me, Clark Kent. Anyone could have held the interview, heck they’d do a better job than me! I’m only good at interviews because I’m usually interviewing myself most of the time; got to get the latest scoop on Superman, you know.
Coming to a halt, the shuttle arrived at its final destination at the station. Thanking the driver as I stepped off, I waited for the luggage to be unloaded, quickly picking my suitcase once I saw it. Stepping toward the curb, I hailed the first taxi I saw. I told the driver the hotel I was staying at with some apprehension from the driver about the neighbourhood. Flashing a few extra dollars convinced the driver. Allegedly my job couldn’t afford me a room in the nicer part of town but it didn't matter to me, I was only staying a few days anyway. I was in and out of the hotel as fast as I could if I was human, dropping off my bags, to make it back to the same taxi ready to go to my next destination.
My final stop was at Gotham National Bank, where Bruce Wayne was set to make an appearance. The reason for the appearance was because of a grand heist that occurred a few months ago, which resulted in massive amounts of damage to the building and for the city’s economy to wane. Burce was representing his company, Wayne Enterprises, who helped to restore the bank and compensate those affected by the economy.
A large crowd had formed in front of an empty stage with a lone podium, people young and old wanting to see Bruce in person. I thought the crowd was here in support of him, but the closer I got I began to hear his detractors disavow his work: “He’s rich, of course he cares if the bank gets blown up,” “The bank was ugly anyways, I hated those columns,” “He’ll throw money at a bank but not the people dying in the streets!”. I was disheartened to hear such things said about a person, however I couldn’t help but agree with some of their points. If he is so wealthy, why not help the people of the city instead of rebuilding the bank? But then you have to ask how realistic of a goal is that, how could he help each individual person in Gotham? I can’t even do something like that, and I’m Superman.
Just before Bruce was about to step out to the podium, I could make out the faintest sound of a gun being assembled, hearing the metallic clicks locking into place and the treads of a gun barrel being screwed on. My head whipped around to each of the surrounding buildings that overlooked the stage, seeing through them with my x-ray vision. It took a few moments for me to analyse each building until I saw them, a sniper was aiming their gun right towards the podium, perched and waiting for Bruce’s arrival. Immediately I mobilised, I needed to stop this assassination attempt from happening. Pushing my way out of the crowd, I stumbled into the nearest public bathroom, it was dirty, smelled awful, and was washed in a foul yellow light. None of this was going to stop me from changing. I rushed into one of the stalls and stripped down to my suit. In goes Clark Kent, out comes Superman.
I abandoned my clothes and satchel in the overflowing trash can in the bathroom and slipped out of there carefully, not wanting to pull any unnecessary attention to myself. It was any second that Bruce was going to step onto the stage. I looked out from behind a corner to keep an eye on the sniper. In the corner of my eye, I saw a group of Gotham City officials, who were being tailed by Bruce Wayne himself. He was coming up to the podium. The sniper lined up the shot, and fired.
The sound of their finger curling around the trigger, sending a 50 caliber round whizzing though the air directly towards Bruce Wayne was all I needed to hear to get into action. Before the bullet could even break the sound barrier, I leap towards the stage and land in front of Bruce. I raised my forearm and stopped the bullet, which splattered like a copper grape upon impacting my arm. Everyone was in panic, the crowd was screaming and covering their heads, desperate to flee the scene. The officials had withdrawn their own pistols and trained them onto the buildings, searching for the shooter. I turned around to see if Bruce was hurt, he was crouched down behind me with his arms over his head. My initial reaction was to reassure him that everything was fine, but when he looked up at me he glared at me with his steely grey eyes, fierce and alert. This was not the look I was expecting from someone who was almost assassinated.
But this could wait, I needed to deal with his would-be assassin. Looking back to the sniper's perch, I saw them scrabbling to make it out of there, they were definitely not expecting to see Superman. My feet push off the ground to spring forward, flying through the window. The assassin flailed on the floor like a fish as they tried to escape, crawling along the floor for the nearest exit. They were pleading for their life, but I ignored them and simply grabbed them by the collar. They kicked and screamed as I dangled them over the sparse crowd, who were now cheering for me. The assassin was still trying to plead but with some added insults thrown in. I got eyes on the flashing lights of the police cars and floated down to them. As soon as our feet hit the ground, the assassin was in cuffs and pushed into the closest car. Floating back into the air, I waved to the crowd whose cheers grew louder. They were not on my mind at all, I didn’t want the applause. Bruce was already removed and rushed off stage once I looked back to the podium. Desperate to know if he was ok, I zoomed over and landed behind his entourage.
“Mr Wayne, are you hurt?” I asked, as I followed them at their quickened pace.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” said one of his bodyguards.
“Yes sir, my apologies,” I replied, raising my hands and stopping in my tracks as they continued on. I could see Bruce turn his head to look at me, he had that same glare in his eyes. There was something about it that unsettled me, like he was hiding something.
But I had no time to question that, I had an interview to get ready for. I shot back into the air, flying over the crowd once more as they cheered for me, and swooped down to the entrance of the bathroom. I rushed to the bin where I left my discarded clothes and returned to the same stall I changed in. In goes Superman, out comes Clark Kent, now in slightly dirtier clothes.
I looked completely unprofessional, how was I supposed to interview the wealthiest man in Gotham when I look like I just pulled my clothes out of the garbage. I look at the sinks in the bathroom and turn on the hot water. With some hand soap I formed a warm lather and scrubbed away at the newly formed stains. I could hear Ma in my head cursing me out for washing my clothes like this, “Did I teach you nothin’ about washin’ clothes?” “Heavens to Betsy, gimme that shirt,”. I wished Ma was here now, she would get these stains out like magic. I was wasting time, and I knew that. Once the shirt was semi-decent, I rushed out of the bathroom not bothering to dry the wet patches. I had to think of an excuse for my shoddy appearance, I had plenty of time to do so as I walked to my destination, Wayne Towers. It was where the interview was to be held. No pressure, I told myself.
Once I reached Wayne Towers, I had to take a minute to take in the scale of the building. Compared to the others surrounding it, the tower was decidedly contemporary. It seemingly didn’t want to match its Art Deco brethren and adopted the glass look like the ones back at home. In a way I related to the skyscraper, we were both alien to this world. I stepped into the imposing building, I was met by a grand foyer with a ceiling that seemed to get higher the more I looked up. The walls were lined with chrome and glass panels in an elegant and modern way, which contributed to the seemingly ever-growing room. My shoes tapped on the slippery tiles as I stepped towards the long marble slab that made up the reception desk.
“Good morning, I’m here to see Mr Wayne, do you by chance know if he’s available?” I politely asked the receptionist.
“I’m sorry, Mr Wayne is unavailable,” they shut me down completely.
“I’m Clark Kent for The Daily Planet, I have an interview scheduled with him today,” I wasn’t wanting to fight with a receptionist who’s just doing their job, and to be fair I understand if the interview was called off due to the assassination attempt.
The receptionist gave me a dirty look, then looked through their schedule on the computer monitor, “It appears so,”
“Great! Could you let him know that I’m ready for him?” I was relieved, the interview wasn’t canceled. Wait, the interview wasn’t cancelled?! I thought, my mind racing. Is he crazy? He almost got shot about thirty minutes ago and he’s ready to do an interview?
The receptionist pressed a button on their phone, “Mr Wayne I have a Clark Kent from The Daily Planet here to see you,” forcefully staining their voice when saying my name.
“Thank you,” Bruce’s voice came through the grainy loud speaker of the phone, “Bring him up,”
The receptionist rose from their seat and walked out from behind the stone desk. I followed them as they led me to the elevator. The metal doors opened and we entered the mirrored box, they pressed the highest floor button. The elevator ride felt like forever, it would be mind numbing if it wasn’t for the soft lounge music playing as we rode into the heavens. The faintest ding indicated that we had arrived at the highest floor. I stepped carefully out of the elevator but my receptionist companion did not follow me. The doors shut behind me, leaving me alone with the beast himself.
I assumed I had been left in his office, as all the furniture that I saw was a glass desk the length of an Olympic swimming pool, with two matching chairs made of leather and wood sat opposite each at the desk. The room felt cold and uninviting due to the lack of furniture and decoration. There must be a reason why the room was so bare, maybe such frivolity could distract from important business. Standing behind the desk was a floor to ceiling wall of glass that curved around the room, providing a panoramic view of Gotham and its cloudy skies. And looking out at that great view was the man himself, Bruce Wayne. Sweat pooled in my hands as I felt the nerves come back, deflecting a bullet was a walk in the park compared to this.
“Mr Wayne,” I said, my voice echoing around.
He turned his head to look at me, that look in his eye was gone. He responded calmly, “Mr Kent, I presume,”
Hearing him say my name was so weird, “Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you,”
He stepped away from the window and walked to me with a sort of arrogant nonchalance. He wore a dark chestnut brown suit that was tailored so well it was as if he was born in it, his snow white shirt contrasted with his ruby red satin tie. His jet black hair was slicked back showing off his chiselled jawline and slender nose, he looked more like a model than a serious business man. Bruce outstretched his arm offering a hand shake exposing a solid gold cuff-link with his initials engraved in them, I accepted the offer. He gripped my hand tight, which I was not expecting, “It’s good to finally meet you too,”
“My apologies for my appearance,” as soon as I said those words I regretted them, what good was it to point out my disheveled nature, “I spilt coffee on myself this morning and forgot to pack an extra shirt,”
“How unfortunate. But that’s fine, I’ve seen worse walk through my doors,” he replied, his face softening ever so slightly. Either this is him trying to make a joke or he’s really this dry.
“I could imagine,” I tried to joke with him, but his face didn’t change. I cleared my throat, ready to switch the subject, “Shall we get started with the interview, Mr Wayne?”
Bruce simply nodded and walked behind his desk, sitting down in his chair. I did as he did and sat opposite him, and rummaged around in my satchel for my voice recorder. Thankfully it wasn’t stolen when I abandoned it in the bathroom. I set it down on the desk with a neat clink against the glass desktop, pressing the red button to start the recording.
“This is Clark Kent of The Daily Planet interviewing the most famous person in Gotham, Bruce Wayne,”