Wayne Enterprise was a disapointment, a small building barely sticking out, what a pathetic building.The boardroom was exactly as I'd expected—stale air, polished oak table, and a collection of faces that radiated disinterest. Seventeen board members sat around me, some stifling yawns, others scrolling through their phones under the table.
I rose from my seat at the head of the table, straightening my jacket. My gaze swept the room, locking eyes with each person who dared look at me. "Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Bruce Wayne, and as of today, I am taking back full control of Wayne Enterprises."
A murmur rippled through the room, half amusement, half irritation.
"Mr. Wayne," sneered a man to my left—Roger Finch, head of corporate strategy, or so his title claimed. His balding head gleamed under the overhead lights. "While it's lovely to see you back after all this time, I think I speak for everyone here when I say we've been doing just fine without you."
I let his words hang in the air before replying. "Fine? Is that what you call a company teetering on the edge of bankruptcy? Owning a dozen failing subsidiaries that haven't turned a profit in years?"
Finch chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "These things are complicated, Mr. Wayne. You wouldn't understand—"
"Spare me," I interrupted sharply, my voice cutting through his condescension. I than added a thin layer of the voice into my words. "I understand perfectly. Wayne Enterprises is a sinking ship, and you're all here bailing water with your hands, hoping no one notices the holes you've drilled for yourselves."
That got their attention. The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning.
I pressed on. "Here's how this is going to work. Effective immediately, Wayne Enterprises will undergo a complete restructuring. All failing subsidiaries will be consolidated into two primary divisions: WayneTech and Wayne Industries. WayneTech will focus on groundbreaking consumer technology. New phones, computers, devices that make Vivo and HTC look like relics. Wayne Industries will lead the charge in clean energy, from mechanical fission and fusion power plants to advanced manufacturing. Every factory, every labor unit under our banner, will be optimized for maximum efficiency and profitability."
A woman at the far end of the table, Margaret Lyle, raised an eyebrow. "And where exactly do you think the funding for this magical transformation is going to come from?"
I stood up as I looked at each and everyone of them. "Let's start by cutting the dead weight."
My eyes flicked to Roger Finch. "Roger Finch. Embezzled $2.3 million from company funds over the past five years. False invoices, kickbacks, offshore accounts. Should I continue?"
His face went pale. "I—how did you—?"
Ignoring him, I turned to the man beside him. "Anthony Clark. Accepted bribes to delay production on the Quantum Arc reactor project. Cost the company millions."
I stepped closer to the table, my gaze unwavering as I addressed the next man. "Margaret Lane. Insider trading. You sold sensitive company information to our competitors in exchange for cushy stock options. I have the transcripts of your calls to prove it."
Margaret's lips parted in a silent gasp, her hands gripping the arms of her chair.
I turned on my heel, locking eyes with the elderly man seated across from her. "Jonathan Pryce. Or should I say, Mr. Ghost Account? You've been funneling profits into shell companies registered under fake names. Clever, but not clever enough."
Jonathan stiffened, sweat forming on his brow.
"Sarah Mitchell," I said, now looking at the woman at the far end of the table. "Authorized false safety certifications for our overseas plants to save a few dollars. Seven injuries and three fatalities as a result. Blood money doesn't look good on anyone."
Sarah's jaw clenched, but she said nothing, her gaze fixed on the table.
"Michael Hayes," I continued, moving briskly. "Approved defective components for mass production to save on materials. I wonder how you'd justify the lawsuits piling up against us for product failures—and those harmed because of your shortcuts."
Michael sank back in his chair, visibly shrinking.
"And let's not forget Patricia Cole." My voice hardened as I stared her down. "You sabotaged internal audits to cover for your gambling addiction. A $3.4 million discrepancy in the books, all leading back to you."
Patricia's hands trembled as she reached for her water glass.
I didn't stop, my gaze sweeping across the room. "Elliot Graves. Used company resources to fund your personal real estate ventures. If I recall correctly, the penthouse you're so fond of belongs to us. Not for much longer, though."
Elliot opened his mouth to protest, but I raised a hand, silencing him.
"Victoria Harper," I said, my tone colder now. "Leaked sensitive R&D data to our competitors in exchange for a seat on their board. Unfortunately for you, they don't take kindly to failed operatives."
Victoria's eyes widened in panic, but I was already moving on.
Finally, I turned to the last man at the table, leaning over slightly. "And then we have you, Leonard Cross. Backdoor deals with our suppliers, inflating contract costs to pocket the difference. Costing us not only millions, but our reputation in the industry."
The room was silent, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above. My eyes lingered on Leonard Cross, his pale face frozen in terror. I straightened, exhaling slowly, the tension in the air palpable.
"I could let security handle this," I said, my voice calm, almost detached. "Let the courts drag out your punishments for years. But the truth is, you don't deserve that luxury."
Roger Finch stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "You can't—"
"Sit." My voice cut through the room like a blade. A flicker of heat vision streaked past his head, scorching the wall behind him. He collapsed back into his chair, shaking violently.
I took a step closer to the table, my tone growing colder. "You all betrayed this company. You betrayed me. And now, you're going to pay."
Margaret Lane let out a nervous laugh, her voice trembling. "Y-you don't mean—"
Her words were cut off by a searing beam of crimson light that sliced through her chest. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as her lifeless body slumped forward onto the table.
Panic erupted. Chairs toppled as the others scrambled to stand, their faces twisted in horror.
"Sit down!" I roared, my voice reverberating through the room with a force that shook the windows. Heat radiated from my eyes, glowing with unrestrained power.
Anthony Clark stumbled backward, hands raised in a desperate plea. "Bruce—Bruce, wait! We—we can make this right! Please!"
"No." I turned my gaze on him, twin beams of energy lancing out. His body crumpled to the floor, smoke rising from the charred remains.
One by one, I moved around the table, methodical and unyielding.
"Jonathan Pryce," I said as he tried to bolt for the door. A quick flash of heat vision reduced him to ashes before he could reach the handle.
"Sarah Mitchell," I growled, my voice as cold as steel. She screamed as I unleashed another beam, leaving nothing but a smoking husk where she had stood.
Michael Hayes, Patricia Cole, Elliot Graves—all of them fell in quick succession, their desperate cries silenced by the raw, unrelenting force of my Kryptonian power.
When I reached Victoria Harper, she was sobbing, hands clasped together in prayer. "Please, Bruce," she begged, tears streaming down her face. "I—I'll do anything. Don't do this!"
I stared at her, unflinching. "You already had your chance."
A single, focused beam ended her.
Finally, I turned back to Leonard Cross, the last man standing. He had fallen to his knees, shaking uncontrollably. "You're a monster," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
I tilted my head, considering his words. "No," I said softly, a faint smile touching my lips. "I'm justice."
The room glowed red one last time as my heat vision enveloped him, the intensity leaving nothing but scorched remnants.
Silence fell once again, broken only by the faint hum of the lights and the distant wail of sirens in the city below. I turned toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, the skyline of Gotham stretched out before me.
"This company doesn't need parasites," I murmured to myself. "Alice, get someone to clean this mess."
Without a backward glance, I stepped toward the shattered remains of the boardroom door, the glow fading from my eyes as I left the carnage behind.