Three days ago, in the sealed office on the top floor of the Washington IRS Headquarters, the venetian blinds filtered the cool tone daylight, and the digits on the electronic clock jumped to 15:47.
Senior Commissioner Bawell Smith sat in front of the desk, unconsciously tapping his fingers on the table, faced with a pile of unchecked files.
The ringing of the mobile phone suddenly broke the silence in the office. The screen displayed an unfamiliar number, and Bawell frowned and took the call.
"Bawell Smith speaking. This is Bruce Wayne," ca a languid and confident voice from the other end of the phone.
Bawell leaned forward slightly, his tone carrying a hint of caution, "Mr. Wayne, what can I do for you?"
"I hear you've been chasing the Gotham Penglage Group's cross-border tax evasion case for three years without success?" Bruce's voice had a touch of mockery, "I have a Christmas gift from Gotham here, are you interested?"
Bawell's brows furrowed even more: "What gift?"
"I've sent you so files through an encrypted channel. You may want to take a look first," said Bruce, followed by a soft sound of keyboard tapping on his end.
A prompt for an encrypted file transfer popped up on Bawell's computer screen. She quickly typed in the password, and as the file opened, her pupils dilated abruptly – it was the private ledger of the Wayne Enterprises board, detailing the tax evasion actions of dozens of Gotham's elite.
"These files... are enough to land half of Wayne Enterprises' elite in jail," Bawell murmured in a low voice, her tone filled with disbelief.
"Correct," Bruce's voice was still lighthearted, "Useless worms should pay the price for their greedy and shaless behavior. I suggest you form a special audit team, and I will have Gotham City Hall give you the green light."
"Are you serious? Do you realize the impact this will have on your corporation?"
"Of course. In fact, getting these wasn't easy at all. My dear CEO, Lucius Fox, is lying in a hospital bed as we speak."
"...You're behind the Wayne Enterprises CEO assassination attempt?!"
"Now is not the ti to discuss that. While I fully understand Fox's complicity in their deeds, it doesn't an I will continue to tolerate it. Think carefully, ma'am, this is a once-in-a-lifeti opportunity."
Bawell's fingers tapped repeatedly on the edge of the docunt, the tal cap of the pen making a soft "click" sound.
She weighed the pros and cons in her mind swiftly. Finally, she took a deep breath, picked up the pen, and signed her na on the command order.
"I will form the special audit team as soon as possible," Bawell declared, her tone tinged with fervor.
"Very good," Bruce's voice carried a hint of amusent, "I look forward to working with you."
In the safe house of the temporary IRS base in Gotham, ard guards patrolled outside the bulletproof glass. Bawell walked into the room and saw Bruce Wayne sitting on a chair, his shirt half wet, hair disheveled.
Although she was unclear about what transpired between him and the pale knight, the crazy car chase that unfolded between the two signified that their relationship was anything but simple.
"Mr. Wayne, thank you for cooperating with our witness protection program," Bawell said, her tone carrying a touch of formal politeness.
Bruce looked up, his lips slightly curled, "Are you thinking, since I'm Batman, why would I need your protection? Sorry to disappoint, ma'am, but you're mistaken, I am Bruce, not Batman."
Bawell responded with a disdainful sneer, "Are you also going to say you're the one who funded Batman? Do you think I'm a third-rate detective?"
With a slap, she tossed an identity dossier in front of Bruce. "IRS has known about your real identity for a while, Batman. That's no secret."
Bruce didn't respond, instead, he took out a USB drive from his pocket and plugged it into a computer on the table. The screen imdiately played a surveillance video – Batman fighting a group of criminals at Gotham Dock, while at the sa ti, Bruce Wayne was speaking at a charity dinner on the top floor of the Wayne Building.
A simple trick, absence alibis like this I could fake in a minute," Bawell was still entirely skeptical.
"I want you to do a facial comparison," Bruce said with a cold snort, "Then you'll understand, while we look similar, we're not the sa person."
Bawell's brows knitted slowly, but she still tossed the USB to her subordinate behind her. Watching Bruce's confident deanor, she was starting to change her mind.
After all, if Wayne Enterprises could find a tax team capable of perfectly countering the National Revenue Bureau, then they could also conceal the true link between Bruce and Batman. Whether it was one person or two, it was up to him to say.
Just as Bruce said, the facial analysis results of Bruce and Batman were very similar, but differences in bone structure indicated they were not the sa person, but had an age difference.
"Am I going to hear a story about two brothers conspiring to fool the world?" Bawell asked.
"That won't happen, because there's no ti for stories now. We have to talk about the Wayne Enterprises issue."
A Wayne Enterprises organizational chart lay spread out on the safe house table, Bruce's finger lightly tracing over it: "Last year, the Wayne Enterprises tax team helped twelve shell companies with reverse rgers, and all operations were completely legal, even issuing tax-exempt invoices to the holess shelter."
Bawell sneered, "Flawless operations, you want to give you a round of applause?"
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