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"Bludhaven State University, Class of 1979 Homecoming" the first banner read. Below it was a second one that read "GO ORCAS". No one talked much about the second one. Both the basketball and football teams were on track to lose every single game, and nobody gave a damn about how good the Women's Tennis Team was doing.
The guests mostly talked about times gone by, of old memories now treasured. They had listened politely to the keynote speakers, but they had not come to hear from two out-of-towners.
So the keynote speakers sat awkwardly together at a table. None of their closest college friends had made it. So they were stuck with one another, at least for the evening. Far removed from the crowd, who would remain blissfully unaware of their conversation.
"So did we ever actually have any classes together?" Perry White asked. "Or did we just live on the same floor three years running?" Jim Gordan scratched his head.
"Were you in Dr. Black's Chemistry 201?" He asked.
"No, I had either Yates or Katz, can't remember which at the moment," White said thoughtfully. "What about Calc with Jerry Helms?"
"Tuesdays and Fridays?"
"Yeah, I sat at the back."
"I sat right up in the front. The man liked his cologne."
"Huh."
"Huh."
There now existed a long, awkward pause. Both men looked at their little plastic cups filled with soda, and around at the rest of the room.
"You know, it's funny," said White. "I told myself coming to BSU was the first step in getting away from Metropolis. Getting away from home. And what did I do when I graduated? Get a job at the Metropolis Daily Tribune. Trash paper, lord it was horrible. Glad I made the jump to the Planet before I got sucked in. I guess it was never as bad as I thought." He paused. "No offense but I never blamed the Gotham kids for getting the hell out of dodge."
"None taken."
"I don't see Kyle Murrow here. Whatever happened to him?"
"Killed by Two-Face."
"Grant Enarson?"
"Riddler victim."
"Tracy Lloyd?"
"Imprisoned for gang-related crimes."
"Sophia Dresbach?"
"Tortured to death alongside her husband and three kids after the Joker found out we dated for a while." Gordan intoned irritably.
"Jesus….Jake Fong?"
"Moved to Central City, last I heard his son had made Eagle Scout." White shook his head.
"Fuck Up Fong's son an Eagle Scout. What a world, what a world."
Gordon gave a hollow laugh.
"I don't suppose of you Metropolis grunts wound up dead."
"Mary Wilson is in a coma after getting injected with some LexCorp Junk." Gordon nodded solemnly.
"Such a responsible pillar of the community you have." He muttered sarcastically.
"Hey," said Perry. "That's one place you've got us beat! Who's the worst you've got, Bruce Wayne?"
"You don't know half of it," Gordon muttered, taking a sip from his cup. Perry for the first time looked truly interested in the conversation. Newsman through and through, and as much as he hated it, gossip sold well. He’d probably learned that at the Daily Tribune.
"Really, how much trouble could a playboy like him get into? Are those skiing accidents really your department?” Gordon gave a conciliatory nod, hoping that would stymie any further inquiries. But White pressed on. “Funny, no real mountains near Gotham. And with injuries that bad, they wouldn’t transfer him so quickly. Normally.” Gordon sighed.
“Dumb rich boy, he gets what he wants.” He said, injecting a certain venom into his speech. It was real, but not coming from the place White thought it would. “Surprised you’re even interested at all.” Damn, he shouldn’t have said that. It left the door open for further conversation. White shrugged.
“I make a point of looking into people who invest in my town.” He said simply. “Course I can’t write about it, conflict of interest. Even with the blind tru…well I suppose I shouldn’t have said that.” White fixed a challenging glare at Gordon. The Commissioner thought for a moment then took a swig of his drink. That explained a lot about how Bruce had suddenly wanted to learn about the press a few years back.
“I see. Interesting. Waynes typically like to stay in Gotham.” He replied. White gave him another look as if considering what to say next.
“They do seem to love the shadows,” White said. Jesus. That was about as direct as Gordon was willing to go with Bruce, and they both knew the other knew. What the hell was White playing at? Gordon glared. This could be a problem. A reporter had somehow weaseled his way into the best-kept secret on earth.
“He gets on well enough with that Lane reporter. Probably just a ploy to impress her.” The Cop replied, hoping deflecting could still work. “Maybe hold it over her head to get a date.” White shook his head.
“Think it was more of a personal favor.”
“For who? Lane? No, she’s the only one he knows. Well, Clark Kent.” Come to think of it, Kent always had good Gotham coverage. Seemed to know what made the psychos tick better than anyone. Bit of a flake though. Always running off in the middle of interviews, and shockingly gullible for a reporter sometimes. Hell, he’d been roped into being Bruce’s alibi several different…oh. Oh. White saw the look on Gordon’s face, and suddenly the editor seemed to go pale himself.
“I suppose we’re even,” White said lightly, taking another sip from his soda, only to find there was no soda left in his cup.
“They do seem to have a solid working relationship,” Gordon said neutrally. White nodded.
“You know who made the first offer for the Planet? Lex Luthor. The old owner was gonna sell, even though he knew that would’ve meant the whole thing getting gutted. Then suddenly our new mystery owner buys it for double what Luthor was offering.”
“Huh.” Gordon huffed. “Personal favor.” That explained...quite a bit actually. “That all you got?”
“Once you get the one, they unravel pretty quickly. I mean cousins are cousins, and wards are wards. I’ve got a few thoughts elsewhere, but not a string worth pulling. Hell, I tried very hard not to pull on my string.”
“You pulled on mine though, uh, metaphorically,” Gordon said.
“Well, that was just an honest attempt to figure out my boss. Not my fault I stumbled ass-backward into this." White said defensively.
"Fair," Gordon said.
"Do you have any others?" White asked.
"I thought we weren't looking?" Gordon replied, raising an eyebrow and taking a sip.
"Mmm," White said. "Still."
Gordon sighed. No way was he going to talk about Barbara to some guy he barely knew, no matter how good he was at keeping secrets. Still, this was kind of fun.
"Look, nothing concrete," He admitted. "But there is no good reason some random guy from Central City should know Bruce Wayne."
"I see," White said. "Well, just so we're even, it sure is nice that my paper has a source high up out west. Good to go green."
Huh, Green Arrow then. The polar opposite of Bruce, no way that guy was a billionaire.
"Must be nice for those folks in D.C.," Gordon opined. "She may be an Amazon Princess, but at least there are no shenanigans."
"Oh yes," White said with a wry smile. "Shenanigans. I've had my fair share."
"Like what," Gordon demanded. This whole conversation was dangerous. But having someone else who was in the know was certainly very…liberating.
"Well," White said, stroking his chin. "There was the time he came out of a locked film room. In his civilian clothes. I'm not sure how he got in using either identity. He tried to pass it off as a freak teleportation accident…which hey if that really is how the league works maybe it isn't so dumb."
"Heh," Gordon said. "One time his kid, right when he was starting out. He forgets that I don't really know him as a civilian. So he starts babbling about this Caveman Dinosaur fight he saw. And I bring it up, and what do you know, in a few months suddenly there's an animation studio owned by, well you know, about a Caveman Dinosaur Fight. Apparently, the cover story is that the kid saw a pitch."
"So does he know you know," White asked.
“Not at this point,” Gordon admitted. “Although I’m pretty sure he knows that I know by now. Not sure if he knows that I know that he knows that I know. How about you?”
“Honestly not sure,” White replied. “Maybe? His wife definitely doesn’t though, which is always a laugh and a half.”
“Oh, so she knows as well?”
“Definitely,” White says firmly. “Looking back there was some truly painful obliviousness going on at first, but she figured it out before any of us, I think. But she hasn’t also figured out who else has figured it out. So that can be, awkward.”
“How so?” Gordon asks curiously.
“Ok, so there’s this whole love triangle thing right? Where she’s in love with two people but they are actually one person? Well ever since they got married she’s been trying to clamp down on the rumors about her and…the cape. Except, you know, she still likes the cape. So I’ll walk in on her staring at a picture and then she’ll see me and she’ll start talking about how dumb he is, which like Ma’am I know who that is but I can’t say it,” White chuckled. Gordon nodded along
“Heh, at least I don’t have to deal with that,” Gordon said.
“You still have it worse with the villains,” White said.
“Yeah,” Gordon said, looking down. Thinking about Barbara and the Joker. And his Wife and the Joker. And the time Kite-Man stole his dog. Or when Clayface had taken his parking spot.
“Do they go after you because they know you know?” White asked quietly. “That keeps me up sometimes.”
“I don’t think so,” Gordon said. “I’m known to be close with him anyway.”
“Do any of them know?” White asked.
“No,” Gordon replied firmly, then scratched his chin. “Well I think the Cat might, she has to by this point. The Joker might, or might not. I’m not even sure he cares. But not anyone else I can think of.”
“Really?” White replied, raising his eyebrows. “I figured it out and I’m not even from Gotham!”
“I know, I know,” Gordon said, raising his hands in defeat. “Harvey Dent had all the information I did and he never put it together, thank god for that!”
“I shouldn’t judge,” White admitted. “Took me long enough, and the self-declared smartest man in history hasn’t managed it!”
“Wait Luthor hasn’t?” Gordon had sort of assumed Luthor had known somehow with either his brain or a computer or a kryptonite tracker or something.
“No!” White replied, just as incredulously. “Not a clue! Do you know who his favorite Daily Planet Reporter is? He hates Lane, everyone knows that. But do you know who his favorite one is? The one he requests if I give him the option?”
“No…” Gordon said with a grin. “Kent? Really?”
“Really,” White said, raising his right hand to take an oath. “One time Kent was ‘out sick’ for like a week because of some space shit and Luthor offered to cover his medical bills.”
“That’s nice,” Gordon said. “Although I’m pretty sure my guy covers that stuff.”
“Thank god for that,” White replied. “The Big Guy doesn’t get hurt a lot, but when he does…well, I’m glad your guy covers it because, with the Union Health Plan, our reporters have…the Planet would be footing a lot of that bill.”
“Heh,” Gordon replied. “Well, if my guy does own the Planet now, I suppose it's the same either way.”
“Fair enough,” White chuckles again. “Fair enough. Christ, it is good to have someone to talk about this with. I mean I know it’s a secret identity and all, but man it is a lot to keep in at times.”
Gordon nodded knowingly.
“We should do this again sometime,” White said. “Not too often obviously, but it is nice to vent, and swap stories. And hey, in an emergency it could be useful. Although they have to already know each other right?"
“Well mine clearly does, what with the Planet and all,” Gordon replied. “Not sure the other way around.”
“He has a kid right?” White asked. “Small, short, likes to threaten to stab you?”
“Yup,” Gordon confirmed. God he missed…all of the other Robins really. Even the one who had turned into a gun-toting vigilante.
“Ok yeah, so Kent once had to babysit him so yeah he knows,” White said. Gordon was surprised. Obviously, the pair were colleagues. But to be trusted like that was rare. He sat in contemplative silence.
“So,” White said conversationally. “If we do keep this up, who do you think catches on to us first.”
Gordon scoffed.
“Mine clearly,” He said, waving his hand dismissively. “World’s Greatest Detective. Easy money.”
White grinned and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He opened it and pulled out three five-dollar bills, stacking them neatly on the table.
“Well mine has X-Ray Vision and Superhearing,” White said with a chuckle. “And he’s my second-best reporter. Care to make this interesting? Thirty bucks seems a decent pool.”
Gordon gave a small smile of his own and nodded.
“It’s a deal,” He said, laying his money out on the table to prove his point, before immediately scooping it back up. “What about your first best reporter?”
White scratched his forehead.
“If she figures it out and doesn’t tell her husband, she gets that cash, and the loser has to buy her and the winner dinner whenever one of the two guys figures it out,” White decided. “If she guesses and spills, well she gets the cash, and too bad for the both of us.”
“Seems fair,” Gordon said, and they shook.
White had the last word.
“May the best pain-in-the-butt win.”