LUCIUS FOX: Let me get this straight. You think that your client, one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world, is secretly a vigilante who spends his nights beating criminals to a pulp with his bare hands, and your plan is to blackmail this person? Good luck.

COLEMAN REESE: You don’t think I’ll tell the press? Because I will.

FOX: Oh, I have no doubt of your intentions, Mr. Reese. In fact, I would actually welcome having attention diverted from myself and my hobby for a change.

REESE: Ummm… what? Wait, I thought Bruce Wayne was… wait, really?

FOX: You sound surprised, Mr. Reese.

REESE: You’re serious?

FOX: You thought an Ivy League billionaire playboy would think far enough past his next polo match to accomplish what I’ve done? Use your head, Mr. Reese.

REESE: But, Mr. Fox, you’re like seventy!

FOX: Seventy-four. It’s amazing what modern technology and a few painkillers can do these days. Who else could have had the brains to design these gadgets and know how to operate them in live combat scenarios? The gas-powered grappling hook, the bat-attracting sonar boot heels, the tank with a motorcycle inside? I wouldn’t hand these tools over to just anybody.

REESE: Well, I mean, I figured you designed them but…

FOX: I’m afraid Mr. Wayne is simply an unwitting backer to my crusade against crime.

REESE: This… this is a bit much to comprehend right now. W-why are you telling me all of this?

FOX: You said it yourself, Mr. Reese. I’m getting too old for this kind of thing. I need a sire, an apprentice to take my place when I retire or, more likely, when I am killed. The Dark Knight needs an heir to the cowl. Are you that man, Mr. Reese?

REESE: I… I don’t know what to say. You… you’re choosing me?

FOX: I need you, Mr. Reese. Gotham City needs you.

REESE: But I can’t fight crime! I can barely reheat soup!

FOX: I can teach you, mold you into a fighting machine that knows no fear and shows evil no mercy. You’ll have access to futuristic weapons, amazing bat-shaped vehicles and, of course, all Wayne Enterprises assets.

REESE: Really… but wait—every cop in Gotham is after you right now.

FOX: I never said it would be easy, Mr. Reese. But when the dust settles, people will look to you as a symbol of good and justice. Men will envy you, women will throw themselves at your feet, clothing providers will want spokesman deals. Join me, Mr. Reese, and together we can make this city safe again.

REESE: I… yes! I’ll do it! I’m ready to face my destiny! I’m ready to… w-what’s so funny, Mr. Fox?

FOX: Boy, are you insane? “Heir to the Cowl”! You believed all that?

REESE: I… I… but you said…

FOX: Just take a look at me, Cole! I wear sweater vests! I’m ready to keel over any moment! Are you really that gullible?

REESE: So… you’re not… Bruce Wayne is…

FOX: Of course it’s Bruce Wayne! Have you even seen the mask? I mean, it’s obvious there’s a white guy inside. I was just messing with you, man.

REESE: Ah, yes. Good one, sir. So, about my original proposal…

FOX: Oh sure, what the hell. Ten million a year is a bit steep, though. How’s five sound?

Wayne at BustedTees