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Peter moved the camera slowly back and forth, eyes fixed on the viewscreen. He blew a bubble in his flavour-leeched gum, popped it, and started the process over. He paused when he found a feature he liked, snapping the photo. In the hum of activity, around him and through the in-ear monitor, the snapping of his camera shutter was practically drowned out, but not so much that Jimmy didn’t glance over, find where Peter was pointing his camera, and move his video camera toward that position, as well.
Jimmy, just like Peter, had his eyes fixed on the preview video feed on his camera. Occasionally, he had to side-step or back-step as someone took up the entirety of his camera view. Mostly, though, he just took long shots of this, panning shots of that, and slow zoom-ins or zoom-outs of whatever else. Unless Clark or Kara was doing an interview.
“How’s the B-roll coming?” Lois asked.
“It’s coming along,” Jimmy answered. Unlike the rest of the tech crew, he had hearing aids that they’d rigged to also pick up the in-ear monitor audio, rather than in-ear audio, itself.
“Clark get any soundbites, yet?” Lois asked. She was parked something like a hundred and fifty or two hundred feet away, cozily nestled in a van of equipment and receiving a delayed feed from Jimmy, Kon, and each stationary camera they had set up, as well as the recordings of their joint audio feeds.
“No,” Peter said, glancing Clark’s way. “Kara neither.”
“Kara hasn’t either,” Lois corrected.
“You know what I meant.”
Lois scoffed at him.
Besides the in-ear monitors, they each wore a lapel mic. Just another point of Lois’s meticulous thoroughness. Clark and Kara also had handheld mics, to make the interview process easier for them, and all of them had backup recording packs, in case something happened to the livecast of their audiofeeds – Lois had had to put together audio from their backup recordings more than once, in the past.
“Wait,” Peter said, camera pointed at Clark and eyes fixed on the viewscreen. “I think Clark got one.”
Over the in-ear monitors, Clark was doing his polite “hello, excuse me, sorry, would you mind answering a few questions?” But that, alone, wasn’t enough to say that Clark had found an interview subject, as he tended to be a broken record, constantly repeating those words until someone stopped to pay him some attention. Or until they were all disheartened enough to give up on the soundbite attempts.
Peter watched Clark and his interviewee for a few moments, snapping a few photos, then started to move his camera back and forth, again. He paused at the foot of the stairs, then guided his camera up the stairs and— “Jim,” Peter prompted.
Jimmy, camera currently pointed at Clark and his interview subject, turned to glare at Peter. “It’s Jimmy.”
“Jim my,” Peter hissed. He glanced sideways at Jimmy, glaring, then nodded at the top of the stairs.
One of the reclusive Wayne kids was crouched at the top, watching everything going on below. Peter wanted to pull out his phone and check the files, see if he could figure out which kid it was, but he figured the kid would probably disappear on him, if he glanced away for even a moment. They weren’t notoriously reclusive on accident.
Peter snapped a picture, zoomed in slowly, snapped another picture, and continued to zoom in—
“Please refrain from taking pictures of my children Mr…?”
Peter jumped at the voice at his shoulder, goosebumps rising all over his arms and the back of his neck, and swung around, just about hitting the speaker. He glanced up, then down at his camera, then up again, though not before taking a picture. “Sorry! Mr. Wayne? I just… it’s my job.”
“Mr. Wayne?!” Lois exclaimed. (Not for the first time, Peter was tempted to find a way to turn her down, specifically, in his ear monitor.)
“Yes, photojournalist. I can see that, Mr. Parker. I’d rather you turn your attention to other attendees, however.”
Peter glanced down at the viewscreen, tempted to take another picture – how many photojournalists could say they got a proper close-up of Bruce Wayne, after all? – but he figured that might be unforgivably rude. He knew he should probably be grateful that the quick shot he’d already snapped was forgiven. Hopefully forgiven. “Could I get a picture of you?” Peter hazarded.
“You better already have a picture of him, Parker,” Lois muttered.
Peter managed not to roll his eyes at her. “Just a quick picture?”
Bruce Wayne’s smile glinted in the viewscreen of Peter’s camera, bemused and – thankfully – not mad. “I suppose one picture can’t hurt.”
“Wow, thanks,” Peter said. He took a step back and steadied his camera at face-level. His hands shook a little as he lined up the shot he wanted. Bruce Wayne. Bruce fucking Wayne! He took the shot, shutters clicking, and took a long moment to look at the preview, and then the live image of the bemused billionaire.
“I hope you got my good side,” Wayne joked.
Peter slowly lowered the camera. “I know it’s a stretch, but would you also be willing to talk to my friend a bit? Answer a few questions?” Peter asked. He adjusted his glasses, which had slid down the bridge of his nose. They badly needed a cleaning, but he didn’t want to risk Bruce Wayne wandering back off, into the party, when Peter was distracted.
“Good instincts, Parker,” Lois said. “Clark, close your interview and get over to Peter.”
“I could go,” Kara offered. She was in another part of the Manor, altogether, with her own photographer (Mary Jane) and her own videographer (Kon). The secondary crew helped them pad out their segments a bit better, though they didn’t quite double their content with the inclusion of Clark’s cousin (and Peter’s ex, and Clark’s son from a highschool relationship) in their crew.
“No, you keep doing what you’re doing. Trust me on this: this one’s a Clark,” Lois responded.
Jimmy, thank god, seemed to have realized that there was something slightly more interesting than corners that he could be filming and swung his camera around to grab some B-roll of Bruce Wayne. If Bruce consented to the interview, Jimmy was in the perfect place for some actual A-roll, for once.
Normally, either Jimmy was distracted elsewhere when Clark or Kara found an interviewee willing to talk to them, or the interviewee was camera-shy enough that there wasn’t a point in even trying, lest the interviewee withdraw their consent to be interviewed, in the first place.
“Your friend?” Bruce Wayne asked.
“Yeah, my friend,” Peter said. “Clark.” He motioned in Clark’s general direction, glancing first over at Clark, then down at his digital camera, then back up in Bruce’s direction.
“I’m not much for interviews or press,” Bruce Wayne said.
“It would be a huge favour,” Peter said. “But if you don’t want to, obviously I can’t force you. And I don’t want to! Am I making sense? Sorry, I don’t usually talk to…” Peter motioned vaguely, then immediately put his hand back on the other side of his camera.
One person had tried to take and throw his camera – neck strap be damned – a few assignments before, and he’d been a bit more paranoid about keeping his camera in one piece, ever since. It wasn’t exactly his, yet – it belonged to the outlet – and he didn’t want damages or a replacement coming out of his pay, not with how much the camera was worth.
“You’re fine,” Bruce chuckled.
Peter glanced down at his viewscreen again, then back up in Bruce’s direction. “Sorry, I just get kind of—yeah—kind of nervous.”
“I understand. I used to be the same way,” Bruce said, leaning in a bit like it was a secret. “It took me a long time to get a handle of my social anxiety and fear of public speaking. It was worth it, though. I’ve been able to open up so many opportunities in Gotham, just by speaking publicly.”
“Yeah, it was—it’s amazing,” Peter said, still tripping over his own tongue a bit. “I’ve always been a big fan of–of–of your work, helping your city. You never leveraged it for sway in politics or anything, outside of helpful endeavours, and I think that’s really cool – especially with political candidates like Alexander Luthor around, being generous specifically to get votes or levy influence in favour of his own company.”
“Ah, Lex. He used to be more community-minded. Shame. But I didn’t know that he was running for any political offices,” Bruce mused.
“That’s a good sound bite,” Lois muttered. “Clark, get your ass over to Parker. Jesus. I don’t care about Mariane Whittemore’s three cats, I care about Bruce Wayne’s literally-anything. He’s a way bigger fish Clark. Don’t make me get out another mic and make my way over there, myself.”
“He’s wrapping up, hold your horses,” Kara said.
In the background, Peter could hear Clark softly hmm ’ing and yes ’ing along with his interviewee, clearly not encouraging any further extrapolation, so that he could disentangle himself. But politely, much to Lois’s chagrin.
“Hey, there’s a Wayne kid over here, he looked like he might be willing to—” Kon cut himself off. “Never mind. He, uh. Left?”
“Tell me you got footage,” Lois said. “Which Wayne kid?”
“I don’t know. Skinny? Little?” Kon said.
“If you see him again, stay on him. Make sure he’s willing to talk before calling an interviewer over. It’s a waste of time, otherwise,” Lois said.
“What if he’s just not willing to talk to me?” Kon asked.
Peter tuned them out, willfully, and paid attention to Bruce’s voice instead. “Sorry, can you repeat that?” Peter said.
Bruce chuckled. “I said I’d give your friend a chance.”
“Oh my god, that means a lot. Thank you! I mean, yeah. Thanks,” Peter said.
Clark had finally managed to get away from his previous interviewee. He had the handheld mic in hand, and was doing his best to reset his phone for voice-transcription. It was messy (as Peter knew from watching Clark go through the blocks of text to neaten them up), but it was easier than trying to juggle the handheld mic and note-taking, and more thorough than just not taking any notes.
Clark looked at Bruce and lit up, like he’d expected Peter to be wrong — either about someone being there or about who was there.
Peter couldn’t even be mad about it. Clark was just so nice about everything.
And, okay, Peter had mistaken who he was talking to, once or twice. Everyone just looked really similar to him, sometimes.
“Do you mind if I take another picture?” Peter asked, after Clark and Bruce were done exchanging pleasantries.
“Why not?” Bruce chuckled. “You seem like a good kid. A picture of the reclusive Bruce Wayne could make your career, right?”
“You have no idea,” Peter laughed, once.
“I might have an idea,” Bruce said, humour in his eyes as Peter lined up the next shot.
This time, Peter made sure to get Bruce and Clark in the shot together. Amazingly, they were almost the same height, as well as similar body-types. Clark was a really tall guy, and really muscular, from his time growing up on a farm. Bruce Wayne, obviously, didn’t have anywhere near the same rearing.
Peter wondered vaguely if steroids were involved. Rich people sometimes did that, right? To get that perfect Mr. Universe type look with less of the work? But, no. That sounded wrong, somehow. Peter was by no means an expert, but he thought Bruce seemed more like the type who would put in the work and turn his nose up at shortcuts, particularly shortcuts that he could end up in any way dependent on.
Peter snapped the shot. “Wow,” he said, to the preview. He managed to accidentally swallow his gum, looking at the unexpectedly well-framed picture. “Wow, that looks really great.” He glanced up, eyes sliding over to Clark.
Clark smiled encouragingly.
Peter glanced back at his viewscreen, then over to Bruce. “Thanks again. I’m gonna…” he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.
“See you around,” Clark said, then he turned back to Bruce.
–
“At the beginning of the new millennium,” Kara’s voiceover said. “Wayne Manor burned down in the first of a series of unopposed arson attacks. At the time, Bruce Wayne – infamous for his philanthropism and progressive ideals – was hosting one of his many yearly charity events, a gala for the Gotham Children’s Hospital. No one survived the fire.”
The B-roll footage Jimmy and Kon had gotten – of charred stairs and fallen light fixtures and holes in the walls and ceiling – guided the program viewer through the historic Manor’s burnt-our husk.
“Included in the casualties were Bruce Wayne, himself—” a picture of Bruce Wayne faded in. “—and all six of his children. Four of his children were adopted—” pictures of Bruce’s children started to fade in and out, on either side of the screen, a new picture fading in before the last one faded out. “—including Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Cassandra Wayne, and Tim Drake. One of his children, Duke Thomas, was Bruce’s foster-child at the time. Bruce Wayne’s youngest child, Damian Wayne, is the only known biological child of Bruce Wayne.”
“During our investigation—” the B-roll footage cut back in, this time showing their crew unpacking the van, setting up, and otherwise filming the other B-roll footage and the like, “—we were able to make contact with Bruce Wayne, himself,” over the B-roll, Peter’s picture – credited to him, underneathe – faded in, showing the almost-there apparition of Bruce Wayne, smiling at Peter. “Which hasn’t been done since the twenty-fifteen investigation by the popular social media duo of Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara, during their filming of Buzzfeed’s Unsolved Supernatural episode on the purported haunting of the remains of Wayne Manor. The Buzzfeed contact with Bruce Wayne, however, has been contested by numerous professionals – and notable skeptic and co-host of the show itself, Shane Madej.”
“One of our mediums, Clark Kent, was able to conduct a full interview with Bruce Wayne. In this first episode of our six-part miniseries on Wayne Manor, we are pleased present to you, the audience, this interview with the late Bruce Wayne.”
The B-roll footage faded out as Jimmy’s footage of the interview faded in. On the footage, you could just make out Bruce Wayne’s shape. Moreso once Jimmy adjusted the angle and zoom.
“So,” Clark began, on the footage. “Is there a topic you prefer to talk about? Or do you mind if I ask a few basic questions, first?”
“I like talking about my kids,” Bruce said – his voice a bit fuzzy and distant, but clear and obvious. In spite of its clarity, there were subtitles on the screen. “But ask whatever you like. I’ll stop you if the question is too sensitive.”
“Alright, great,” Clark said.