Bluff

Inside the old Wayne Enterprises building, the elevator doors slid open with a ding, and Adam stepped onto the 14th floor. Lincoln March stood waiting, poised like a statue.

"Bruce, I can't thank you enough for this meeting," March began, his voice smooth and practiced. "I know how busy you must be these days."

"Not too busy to meet with Lincoln March, the 'next mayor of Gotham,' as they say," Adam countered with a wry smile.

"Is that the rumor going around?"

"Something like that." Adam's smile didn't waver. "I've been reading reports about you, a self-made financial whiz turned philanthropist."

"Your story is... impressive. Very polished."

Lincoln March sensed a hidden meaning behind the word "polished," but Bruce Wayne's sincere expression made him question his own paranoia.

"You've done some good deeds yourself," Adam continued. "Funding the boys' home, opening an after-school literacy program..."

He pulled out a checkbook and scribbled something on a check.

"So, what do you think? Is this figure satisfactory?"

"Bruce, I'm not here for a handout, but don't get me wrong—every penny is appreciated," Lincoln March replied. "Damn it, Mayor Carlo has about ten credit lines running around the clock, and their funding sources are questionable at best."

"If it's public support you want, I'm afraid I can't offer that."

"I don't want public support. All I truly want is your vote."

Adam watched Lincoln March's performance in silence.

The other party looked sincere.

Tsk. If he wants to play games, let's play.

"My vote. You came all this way for just one vote, Lincoln?" Adam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, but what you're doing aligns with what I believe in. Bruce's Gotham reconstruction plan is a good thing. Frankly, I see you as a friend."

"Cynics would say you see an opportunity," Adam countered.

"Yes, cynics would also say that you're pushing the New Gotham plan for the company's image, since it's a public project with private interests."

"Is that what the gossip is saying now?"

"Perhaps. And maybe they're right. I should be going. I'll leave the check on the table."

"Bruce, you know, I lost my parents at a young age too."

Adam paused, recognizing the familiar tactic of appealing to shared trauma.

Here we go, he thought. Whenever someone wants to deceive Batman, they always steer the conversation towards something personal, something he can't easily deflect.

"It's strange, isn't it? I can barely recall my mother's face, only fragments. But I remember her—I remember her clearly. The brooch she wore on the day of the accident. A ceramic brooch I made for her in school, a small, heart-shaped one. It was lopsided, one side bigger than the other, but she wore it on her lovely dress, my ugly little brooch."

"I can't remember the drunk driver who hit us. I don't quite remember how it happened... but I remember seeing the brooch lying on the road as the paramedics took me away. It was untouched, not broken, not cracked. I just hoped someone would pick it up."

"After losing everything that night, I was consumed by despair for a long time. I hated the world."

"But then I received a scholarship that allowed me to attend City College. This city saved me, Bruce. Gotham saved me."

"It gave me a purpose when I was alone, and I'm sure it gave you one too."

"I see you, and I see an ally. A true ally. There aren't many of those in this city, especially now."

Adam smiled, then turned and walked towards the large French windows, stretching his arms out wide. He gazed at the city lights twinkling in the distance.

"I always think the best way to understand a city is to walk its streets," he said, his voice echoing in the quiet office.

"Feel the cracks in the sidewalk beneath your feet..."

An indescribable aura emanated from Adam, enveloping Lincoln March. He couldn't quite understand it, but the sight of Bruce Wayne standing there, a glass of champagne in hand, made him feel... uneasy.

"The eerie silence of a snow-covered parking lot..." Adam's voice was low and resonant.

"The screech of the elevated train as it passes over Third Street, showering sparks."

"The rhythmic clicking of traffic lights late at night..."

"But you know what's most interesting?"

Adam turned, the light from the window illuminating only half his face, the rest shrouded in shadow.

"Everything in Gotham is so obvious on the surface, yet if you try to understand it at a deeper level, you could spend a lifetime... and still know nothing."

"Wouldn't you agree, Mr. March?"

"There's a cave beneath Gotham," Adam continued.

Lincoln March was caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic.

"Just one. In fact, the only one is in Kane County, beneath the Willowwood Home for Children. Years ago, it was an asylum for children with mental illnesses and neurological disorders. It was operational until eighteen years ago."

Lincoln March's composure faltered. This was a secret known only to him and the Court of Owls. They had kept it hidden for years. How had Batman discovered this information?

Of course, he knew it from reading the comics.

Adam looked at him solemnly, a secret amusement bubbling up within him.

He continued, "I once had a younger brother, Thomas Wayne II, Mr. March..."

Adam studied Lincoln March's reaction as he spoke, a smile playing on his lips.

He continued, weaving a tale altered by the transmigrator: "When I was three years old, my mother was pregnant with him. We were in a car accident. I don't recall the accident itself, but there's a record of it. He was my younger brother, a premature baby with birth defects."

Lincoln March's heart pounded in his chest.

The depth of Bruce Wayne's knowledge far exceeded his expectations. All his previous assumptions about the man had to be reevaluated.

"Gotham General Hospital's records show that my brother, Thomas Wayne Jr., was delivered in an emergency. He was given a name, then quickly placed on life support—the doctors said he had severe neurological damage. So severe that he would likely remain in a vegetative state, just to survive the initial trauma."

"He did survive."

"My parents secretly transferred him to Willowwood Asylum for treatment. They always suspected foul play in the car accident. To protect the baby, to prevent whoever was responsible from harming him, they sent him to Willowwood."

Adam's gaze locked onto Lincoln March's face. "My parents loved my brother. But what no one expected was—"

"The baby vanished two weeks later."

"My parents searched for him relentlessly, until their deaths. I've continued the search all these years."

Lincoln March's hands trembled.

"But we never found him."

"Tell me, March, where could he be?"

...

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