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Bruce Wayne

"There's always a riddle. You just have to know where to look."

0 · 331 views · located in DC Universe

a character in “The World's Finest”, as played by Everscale

Description

Image

Name: Bruce Wayne
Alias: Batman
Age: 28
Height:6'2"
Weight: 210 lbs
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Blue
Powers: None - trained martial artist, highly observant, rich.

Personality

Bruce isn't easy to figure out. To the public, he is a carefree billionaire surviving off the money inherited from his parents, and earning more every day off the work of other men with his surviving company. He doesn't really seem to do anything. He flirts and messes around, goes on cruises and wild vacations, crashes sports cars and buys five more to replace the one he broke. He is irresponsible, brash, and doesn't much care what the world thinks of him.

In private, he is pensive and really rather unfriendly. He spares little time for other people, with the exception of his butler Alfred. Brooding, preoccupied, and perpetually angry, Bruce Wayne seems determined to remain unhappy. He pours himself completely into work that seems utterly suicidal. One man can not possibly take down Gotham's crime world on his own.

Essentially, Bruce is strong, and Bruce is solitary. He keeps other people away for the sake of their own safety, and does not seem to know how to deal with his own emotions. He doesn't share, he doesn't turn to others for support. The Batman is his support. He doesn't need anyone. That, at least, is what he has convinced himself of.

So begins...

Bruce Wayne's Story

Setting

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Character Portrait: Bruce Wayne Character Portrait: Superman
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Clark Kent was what a lot of people would call a nerd, or even just a simple farm boy by the looks of him. His black hair parted to the right and combed quite nicely out of the way, while his thick glasses hid his blue grey eyes from the world. He had a tendency to stutter and slouch, and wore dull colors. He was all around not too fascinating to most people, he rarely drew attention to himself and people thought he was quite easy to see through. Most people just defined him by his name, he was nothing more than Clark Kent, a reporter for Daily Planet and a simple farm boy from Smallville. He felt it was better that way, it left less questions for him to answer when he disappeared and didn't have an excuse for his sudden absence. It also made him quite unrecognizable to the public eye when he was out saving the day as Superman. He had thought about wearing a mask in his early years, when he was still getting used to his powers and decided that no one should know that Clark Kent was actually an alien being of a planet that was completely destroyed. He found there were ways around the mask, and it worked perfectly as long as nobody took notice to him and saw Superman as someone else completely.

Superman wasn't even technically his other name, his real name was Kal-El. He was a native of the planet Krypton, but before his planet was destroyed he was sent out in a rocket ship that ended up on Earth. It wasn't like he remembered anything about his planet or even his parents, but that didn't mean he didn't feel quite lonely in the universe. He was the only Kryptonian, with the kind of morals he has, left in the whole universe, and he was left to study his planet on his own. It was quite a hard task when he was one of the only ones out there doing it, and there wasn't too much to be offered. He did already have the power to speak and write in Kryptonian language, but that wasn't too helpful when there wasn't anyone else out there that knew that language for themselves. There were others from the planet Krypton, but they were all evil and intended to do no more than destroy Earth, which Clark would never let happen. He had family here, even if they weren't his real family, he also had friends and a life that he wouldn't give up for anything.

At the moment, Clark was Clark, and was reporting for the Daily Planet. He had been sent to Gotham for a good while to write a story on Bruce Wayne, and his new intentions of expanding Wayne Enterprises into Metropolis. He wasn't too excited about this new assignment, but his boss thought he was the best choice for some odd reason and he didn't get much of a choice of his own. He just got out of the taxi that he had taken from his hotel room in Gotham to Wayne manor. Everything apparently was already set up, Perry White had pulled some strings and had somehow managed to get an interview with Bruce Wayne. Clark would never understand how he did it, but he wasn't going to ask questions. The small town farm boy stared at the huge mansion that could have easily been mistaken for a castle, wondering just what kind of person he was dealing with. He had seen a few things with Bruce in front of the camera, but he wasn't sure what this person was like off camera or even just face to face with one person. Clark was about to find that out for himself.

He finally made his way to the front door and knocked after finding no evidence of a doorbell. He was greeted by an older gentleman, who seemed to know right away why Clark was there. "Right this way, sir, Master Wayne has been waiting for you," the man said as he led the way through the large manor to find where Bruce was waiting. Clark felt just slightly nervous about this meeting, since the only other person he had met that was just as rich and famous was Lex, and he was sure there was a difference between Bruce and Lex. He was also sure that he wasn't going to end up fighting Bruce Wayne while being Superman. He was forced to keep himself calm and just deal with whatever happened next.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Bruce Wayne Character Portrait: Superman
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Bruce stood at the cathedral window of the ancient Manor's main lounge, swirling a wine glass full of grape juice in one hand. He had never found it difficult to maintain the illusion that he was a careless, ever-drunk playboy. All he had to do was walk around drinking grape juice and make sure no one tried to take a sip out of his glass. He was a good enough actor to make himself seem intoxicated, to some degree. But he never drank alcohol, not really. That would impair his judgement.

Watching in silence, he sipped at his juice and analyzed from afar the man who had was crossing his front stoop. He did not dress like someone from the upper class. His clothing was nice, but cheap, especially if that was considered his more formal, working garb. Bruce had workout pants more expensive than that suit. He did not walk like a city boy, either, which surprised Bruce a little. Most reporters from Metropolis were born and raised there. Bruce had visited the Daily Prophet once before, and knew its environment was fiercely competitive. Usually it was only those who had connections inside who got a job, but this "Clark Kent" held himself like a farmer, something Bruce was trained to spot. Which meant he must have some serious talent. Bruce would have to be careful.

Turning from the window as Alfred answered the front door, Bruce walked across to his divan and laid himself out across it. He did not bother to kick off his shoes. Disrespect for antiques was one of the key elements of being the character he had chosen to become. Disrespect for everything of value, really. He had to make it seem like he took this life for granted. Undoing the top several buttons of his collared shirt to reveal a chest sculpted by years of hard training, Bruce continued to swish the juice around in his glass, cradling it between his long, strong fingers.

Everything about Bruce's image was carefully planned, like a painting of a rich model. White button-down shirt, at least three hundred dollars, neatly ironed gray slacks he was wrinkling by lying this way, at six hundred, glistening black shoes that stated clearly he did not do much active with his life, five hundred dollars. His watch alone was more than one thousand dollars in worth. The glass in his hand probably cost most of this reporter's monthly salary. Bruce's hair was neatly trimmed, short but not too short, and flopped across his eyes with a roguish sort of attitude. Nothing about his long, thin body gave any suggestion that he had ever known a life out of luxury, or that he cared in the slightest for anything but wealth. With the possible exception of his lethally sharp blue eyes.

A light rap on the door to the lounge announced that Alfred had brought his visitor up to meet him. Putting on an easy, tipsy sort of grin, he waved at the door.

"Bring him in, Alfred," he called easily. The door creaked open and the gray-haired man bowed Clark through. Bruce did not bother to sit up, as would have been polite. "Come in, come in. I've been waiting."

Setting

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Character Portrait: Bruce Wayne Character Portrait: Superman
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Clark looked at the play boy millionaire for a good few moments, and wondered right away what was so interesting about the guy that all the girls wanted to sleep with him and all the guys wanted to be him. He just couldn't understand, just by looking at Bruce, Clark wasn't too excited about this interview, and all the nerves had already left him. He wasn't sure if it was just because he was raised as a simple farm boy and never really felt need for money except for all those moments when they were so close to losing the farm. He had seen how Lex had become quite greedy and how that family had worked from the beginning, it just wasn't what Clark ever saw as right. Maybe it was the fact that money was already something seen as a bad thing to the farm boy, from the moment he was born, to standing at Wayne manor just at the moment.

He did understand the attraction for the girls, he was quite a handsome guy, but that was all it was. All the man had was looks and money, but that was what a lot of the women that man dated must have only wanted. Clark was ready to get this interview over with as fast as he could. He didn't want to be around for a long time, and he was sure he'd get more information out of the Wayne Enterprises board than Bruce Wayne. To Clark it seemed like Bruce was the kind of person to just sit around and let others do the work for him, this interview might as well have been a complete waste of time.

"H-hello, Mr. Wayne," Clark put on his usual stuttering act. "I'm Clark Kent, from The Daily Planet, but I'm sure you already knew that." Clark greeted, he wasn't too sure if he should just continue with his questions or wait for Bruce to say something. Clark decided to just continue his questioning after a few moments, "Well, I guess my first question has to be, Why metropolis? Is there a reason for it at all?"

Setting

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Character Portrait: Bruce Wayne Character Portrait: Superman
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Bruce kept an idle smirk lingering on his face as he watched the man, though he found very little amusing about the situation. Nervous? Unintelligent? Clark's expression suggested neither, but his mannerisms suggested some of both. Regardless, he seemed like a polite sort of man, with a genial face. If the whole country boy aura was just an act, Bruce would have been impressed. He highly doubted that was the case.

"Mr. Kent," he greeted formally, but his tone was everything but formal. With a broad, sweeping gesture reminiscent of a man who had indulged in just one glass of wine too many before breakfast, he indicated the multiple plush and leather armchairs scattered around the room, all tilted to focus upon the sofa Bruce used in the manner of a throne. It was an indication of egomania, the way everything in the room seemed centered around the seat of the drunken billionaire. Simple things like that made his playboy act very, very convincing. "Sit down, take off your coat, stay a while."

Rolling to his feet with a dancer's, or perhaps a fighter's, grace, Bruce abandoned his couch and sauntered across the room to a decanter of crystal-cut glass. Red wine like blood sloshed over the sides as he hoisted it a bit clumsily by the smooth handle and poured a fresh glass. Still holding his grape juice in one hand, he collected the second glass with the other and carried it across to the frazzled young reporter.

"You look like you could use a drink," he noted with an easy, assuming smile. After all, who would dare refuse a drink from the great Bruce Wayne? That was what he was supposed to think, was it not?

Bruce did not wait to see whether or not Clark took the glass, setting it down on a small table beside one of the armchairs and bringing his own drink back across the room. He slouched onto the couch with enough force to shift it backwards, emphasizing carelessness, and took a long swig of his "wine" before he ever got around to forming an answer to Clark's question.

"Why Metropolis," he repeated with a tone of reminiscence. Swirling the glass around again, Bruce tilted his head over the arm of the couch until the world was upside down. His bangs flopped off of his brow and bared his chilled blue eyes to the world. His smile did not reach his eyes. It was a physical phenomenon - smiling, a reflex reaction, could be imitated but not precisely copied. No one alive was capable of making the tiny muscles at the corners of their eyes wrinkle when they were not genuinely smiling. Bruce was banking on the fact that Clark, and indeed most people, even reporters, that he met would not be able to detect the tiny flaw in his act. It took years of training to recognize those miniscule cues. "Because Metropolis is the largest, most successful city where Wayntech has not gained a foothold. Or so my board tells me." He shrugged a little and took another swig of juice. "It seems a logical choice. Almost nine million people and not one of them is available to my corporation, there's no choice but to expand."

And Lex Luthor was in Metropolis, of course, but Bruce was not going to bring that up.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Bruce Wayne Character Portrait: Superman
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Clark didn't plan on staying for a while, he wanted to get in and out as fast as he could. As much as he enjoyed his job as a reporter, he didn't enjoy interviewing celebrities. He felt there were more deserving reporters that worked for The Daily Planet who would rather be interviewing the famous Bruce Wayne more than he really wanted to. He was only chosen because he wasn't really too impressed by most celebrities and half the time could care less what they did. He only cared about what was going on when they were about to harm other innocent people or themselves. He just continued to keep his coat on and only sat down, because he wasn't too sure how long he would have to talk to Bruce.

The reporter didn't say a word, he had already asked his question and expected that if the billionaire knew the answer, he would answer it when he was ready. Unless the conversation started to drift off track too long, Clark didn't really have a reason to care too much. The question would be answered eventually, whether it was from Bruce Wayne or from the board later one, when Clark actually convinced his boss that it was best to talk to them about moving into Metropolis. He didn't expect he'd get too much out of the owner, since it seemed that he just cared more about the inheritance than anything else, but that's what it looked like. He wasn't going to completely dismiss the possibility of Bruce being intelligent and know what's going on with his company.

Clark watched as Bruce walked about the room, he had to admit that the man did have a bit of grace to him still. He wasn't too sure what kind of grace, but even the way he walked just screamed celebrity. He could see why all the women in this world wanted a chance to date Bruce, with the looks and the money he had it was almost hard to refuse any kind of invitation given. He wondered how many women Bruce actually did go on dates with on a regular basis and if there would be an end to it. Was there anything else he thought about or was it all about this whole playboy life style? Did he ever actually just want to live a normal life, or was this the plan from the beginning? Clark shook his head, these things made no difference at the moment, he wasn't around to discuss Bruce's personal matters.

"Th-thanks," Clark muttered when Bruce sat the wine down on the small table beside him. He didn't plan on actually drinking it, he didn't drink too much and especially not in the middle of the day. He had no reason to do such a thing and he was working after all. He just looked at Bruce and waited for an answer as his mind started to wander onto other topics that had nothing to do with what he was sent for.

Bruce finally answered the question, and Clark had written a few notes down, making sure that everything was written down word for word. When he talked about his board had told him what he was talking about, that made Clark want to roll his eyes, but he restrained himself. It wasn't like Bruce went to watch the company all the time and figure out everything that was going on with ever small decision. "Alright, what do think about the competition? What about Lex Corp? How does your company plan to stand against Lex Luthor's?" Clark asked, continuing on with his questioning.