"Let's leak that we're going to 'rebuild all Eight Wonders of the World at once'? Then announce we're canceling seven and only doing one?"
When Bruce returned to the manor after another long night of beating criminals senseless, Lucius handed him this carefully crafted plan—the crystallization of collective wisdom.
With his understanding of psychology, Bruce could immediately see the genius behind it.
The strategy was excellent—and had a very high chance of success.
"But… on the first day, the public reaction will be huge."
Lucius finally voiced what was in his heart.
Afraid of becoming collateral damage, he had already prepared three bulletproof cars and hired eight bodyguards, just in case the public backlash got too intense once the news went out.
He wasn't like Alfred or Gordon—both former soldiers in their youth, with Alfred even having served in British special forces. Lucius had always been an intellectual, and at his age, if a few hot-blooded young men decided to rough him up, it would not end well.
Better to be cautious… he wanted to live a few more years.
"The scope is too big. Narrow it down—limit it to the ones that are already damaged. We can't touch that indescribable country, or Egypt."
Bruce thought for a moment and proposed a refinement. His perspective was far broader than that of a few corporate staffers; he wasn't limited to the immediate business.
Framing it as "restoring damaged ancient structures" was barely defensible.
But tearing down intact monuments? What were they thinking?
How would world leaders read that?
Would they see it as the U.S. testing the waters for a new kind of hegemony—"tear everything down and rebuild under our rules"?
If they tried to turn "United States of America" into a literal "United States of the World," that would be a dream—and one that would end in a world war.
Third World War kicks off, a hundred nukes get launched before anyone finishes their speech.
The scene Bruce painted scared Lucius into a cold sweat. He immediately decided that once this was over, he'd transfer the "brilliant strategist" who came up with the original idea to the cleaning department—no matter who tried to intervene.
…
"Our company, driven by a sense of social responsibility and concern for the loss of traditional culture… will demolish and rebuild several world-class historic structures on their original sites. Thank you."
The next day, Lucius Fox called every media outlet he could reach.
Under a sea of sleepy faces, he calmly dropped this bombshell—then promptly fled the stage.
"Huh? Did you hear that right? What's Wayne Enterprises going to do?"
"I think he said something about rebuilding?"
"Give me your recorder. I want to hear that again!"
Once Lucius left, the press conference descended into a strange atmosphere.
Reporters whispered to each other, double-checked their audio, compared notes. The quiet muttering gradually merged into a single emotional reaction:
Holy—! Wayne Enterprises is about to drop a massive scandal!
At first, when the media released Bruce Wayne's "grand plan," the public didn't believe it.
The Eight Wonders had stood for countless years—who in their right mind would want to rebuild them?
It had to be some bored Gotham playboy pulling a stupid stunt for attention.
But as Wayne Enterprises continued holding follow-up briefings—land surveys one day, a global call for ancient architecture experts the next—people realized Bruce Wayne was serious.
A single stone sent a thousand ripples outward.
The whole society started buzzing.
For many young Americans, who didn't exactly have a long cultural heritage to cling to, this move felt like "spreading martial law across the world"—wiping out other countries' historical foundations, dragging everyone down to the same blank baseline.
A lot of rebellious, democracy-brainwashed idiots stood in front of cameras and shouted their support for Bruce Wayne at the top of their lungs. He was their idol, after all.
With this wave of blind fanaticism, several Wayne high-tech products nearly sold out, and the company's stock price even ticked up.
Most U.S. politicians felt this whole thing had nothing to do with them.
They neither supported nor opposed it.
A few who'd taken Queen Group money made vague statements of support from the sidelines.
The military, mired in the Iraqi quagmire, was very pleased to see Wayne Enterprises helping divert global media attention.
A general named Lane even publicly voiced his support.
Compared to America's lukewarm attitude, the international reaction was far more intense.
The British—America's "traditional relatives across the sea"—unanimously decided that this was yet another example of Americans abandoning tradition and spitting on history. The conservative Prime Minister went on TV and cursed Bruce Wayne by name for a full fifteen minutes.
Even Amanda Waller, busy in Hong Kong turning Oliver into her personal agent, was jolted into attention.
She'd just sent someone to pick up Harley Quinn. Honestly, she'd wanted Joker, but Batman had been absolutely firm—everything else was negotiable, but the Joker was off the table. They had almost fallen out over it.
Amanda had been furious.
She thought Batman would lay low for a while.
Then this massive news hit her desk—and she was left speechless.
Her first reaction:
Batman had gone insane.
Not "crazy" in a figurative sense—literally insane.
But when all the intel came back, she discovered he was behaving like a normal person. No terrorist acts, no humanity-ending schemes.
"It makes no sense. Why would Bruce do this? Is this some kind of split personality?"
She ordered a full investigation.
Every single angle, every shadow, every trace behind the event had to be checked. Amanda refused to believe Batman was just bored enough to mess with the entire world for fun.
Checkmate's intelligence network had been built with enormous funding. As the higher-ups gradually cut Steve Trevor's authority and handed more power to Amanda Waller, the resources under her control only grew.
A specialized intel-analysis unit toiled for an entire day before finally placing a dossier on her desk.
"Queen Group initiated this first?"
Living her life knee-deep in conspiracies, Amanda immediately thought of Oliver Queen, the asset under her control. Could this be connected?
After reviewing it several times, she decided the two events were unrelated. She had discovered Oliver by accident—there was no evidence the Queen family even knew he was alive. That meant the one driving this temple reconstruction had to be Thea Queen, who had a good personal relationship with Batman.
Amanda stayed up all night and still couldn't understand why Thea wanted a temple rebuilt.
And Batman—so proud, so defiant—how had he agreed to play the scapegoat?
Clearly, there was more to this than she knew.
"Keep digging."
This time, it wasn't so easy. Her subordinates scurried around for half a month before, by pure chance, they captured footage of Thea out shopping with several women. An eagle-eyed agent spotted Barbara—the redhead—in the background. Only then did they piece most of the story together.
"Paralyzed Barbara Gordon was cured? How?"
Amanda stared at the report, dissatisfied, and asked in a dangerous tone.
Her subordinates glanced at each other and shrugged helplessly.
They didn't know either. Barbara was always in Star City or Gotham.
They couldn't just kidnap her, pour half a liter of truth serum down her throat, and interrogate her about the procedure.
For one thing, Barbara was no pushover—they'd need a full combat squad just to grab her.
For another, they were government operatives, not mobsters. They hadn't walked away from lucrative private-sector jobs just to become thugs. They served the government because they believed in justice—and they weren't about to use brutal methods on another hero who stood for justice, just like they did.