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I wrote this short story in May 2007:
Batman in London
by Chris Wright
Bond began his daily routine by performing twenty slow push-ups, enough straight-leg lifts to make his stomach muscles scream, twenty toe touches and finally arm and chest exercises combined with deep breathing until he felt dizzy. He then took a shower where he started with the water scalding hot, then to freezing cold to open and close his pores. After the shower, he put on a dark blue Brioni suit and a hand-made woven silk tie. For breakfast, which was prepared by May, Bond’s Scottish housekeeper, he sat down to The Times, two large cups of very strong black coffee and a boiled egg served in a dark blue egg cup with a gold ring around the top. Bond left his flat thirty minutes before five and headed toward SIS located at Vauxhall Cross. During the drive, Bond opened his thin black gunmetal cigarette case, took out a cigarette and lit it. His cigarettes, a special Balkan and Turkish mixture with three gold bands on the filter, were made for him at Morland’s on Grosvenor Street.
James Bond exited the elevator and headed toward M’s office. He opened the door revealing Moneypenny typing at her computer in M’s outer office. He greeted her but was too tired for their usual repartee.
“Can I go in?” he asked.
“Yes, she’s ready, James,” Moneypenny replied.
Bond opened M’s door and went in. M was sitting behind her desk looking through some files. “Good morning, 007. Please sit down,” said M without looking up from her files.
“Good morning, M,” Bond replied as he took the seat opposite his boss.
M looked up and said, “I’m sorry for calling you in this early but something’s come up. I don’t have much time to brief you so you’ll need to pay very close attention.”
“Okay,” replied Bond attentively, slowly becoming alert.
“Bruce Wayne, owner of an American company called Wayne Enterprises, is flying in from Gotham City as we speak. He’s coming to present our government with blueprints for a state-of-the-art tank for our military. It’s no secret that multiple British companies want the contract but from what I’m told, Wayne’s tank is much superior to the competition and most likely to be chosen. That’s why I need you to escort him from Heathrow to the Ministry of Defense today to make sure the blueprints remain safe. His plane lands in forty-five minutes which means you need to get going.”
“Why is the Double-O Section involved in an operation as simple as this?” asked Bond.
“Mr. Wayne personally requested you be assigned as his escort. He’s under the impression that you’re the best. You know I’d normally not waste your talent on something of this nature but under the circumstances I had no choice. The plans for these tanks are extremely important to our government and the PM is glad you’ve been assigned.
“Alright, I understand,” Bond said as he stood up, buttoning his jacket.
“Good luck, Bond,” M said before returning to her files. Bond exited her office and said goodbye to Moneypenny.
Bond arrived at Heathrow a little after six. He showed his identification to airport security and drove his Aston Martin DB5 onto the tarmac. Bond could see a small private jet taxiing toward Hangar C. As it got closer, Bond could see the words “WAYNE ENTERPRISES” on the side of the jet. Bond followed it to the hangar and parked inside. When the plane finally stopped, Bond got out of his Aston and walked toward the plane. As he approached, the hatch opened up allowing stairs to unfold onto the ground. An older man with white hair and bifocals appeared and walked down the stairs, carrying a suitcase.
“My name is Bond. James Bond.”
“I’m Alfred Pennyworth, Mr. Wayne’s butler,” said the white haired man with a British accent.
Surprised by the man’s accent, Bond asked, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Pennyworth. Londoner?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Welcome back,” said Bond.
Bruce Wayne walked down the stairs with a briefcase in his left hand and introduced himself, “I’m Bruce Wayne. You must be 007”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne,” Bond replied as they shook hands.
“How are you and I going to get to the Ministry of Defense?” asked Wayne.
Bond pointed to his car and said, “That’s my 1964 Aston Martin DB5 over there.”
Wayne turned his head to look and said, “Beautiful. I’ve got a 2002 Aston Martin V12 Vanquish at Wayne Manor.”
“Isn’t Gotham City the home of Batman?” asked Bond with a smirk.
“Yes,” Wayne chuckled.
“I respect any man that can dress up like a bat and be taken seriously. Are you ready?”
“Yeah, we can go after I put my suitcase in your car,” said Wayne as he said goodbye to Alfred and followed Bond to his car. Wayne put his suitcase in the Aston’s boot, got into the car and they exited the hangar.
Approximately ten minutes later, Wayne looked out at the side-view mirror and asked Bond, “Is that black Beamer tailing us or is he with you?”
Bond took his focus off the road and glanced at the rearview mirror. He said, “No, he’s not with me but he’s been following us since we left Heathrow.” Bond flipped open the top of his armrest revealing a panel of buttons and switches and said, “Let’s ask him what he wants,” as he flipped one of the switches.
“What are you doing, Bond?” asked Wayne. Suddenly, Wayne’s eyes moved to the side-view mirror. They opened wide in disbelief. The BMW had crashed into a ditch on the side of the road. “How did you do that?” asked Wayne in amazement.
“Oil slick, one of the optional extras I’ve had installed,” Bond replied as he rapidly pulled out his Walther PPK from his shoulder holster. He quickly exited the DB5 and ran toward the wrecked car to question the man that had been following them.
Now alone with his briefcase, Wayne was quickly formulating his next move. Should he risk compromising his secret identity by helping the British Secret Service or should he sit still and guard the blueprints, Wayne asked himself. He made up his mind and stealthily got out of the car.
Bond approached the BMW, carefully pointing his Walther at the man until he was sure that he was unarmed. Bond opened the car’s door and took off the injured man’s seatbelt, pulling him out onto the road. Luckily they were in a scarcely populated area early in the morning so Bond didn’t have to worry about being seen. “Who the hell are you?” screamed Bond. The man slowly opened his eyes and stared at Bond, ignoring his question. Bond kicked the man in the stomach and yelled, “Why were you tailing me?” The man moaned and spit at Bond’s feet.
Meanwhile, Wayne had opened the boot to get into his suitcase. He quickly opened it and pulled out the Batsuit. He quickly put on the suit and opened his briefcase, removing a folder. He then closed the briefcase and locked it in the boot. When Batman was ready, he ran to where Bond was questioning the thug. Bond was aiming his gun at the man’s chest. “Don’t shoot him!” yelled Batman.
Bond was startled but quickly put the pieces together in his head, figuring out that Bruce Wayne was in the suit. “But he’s not cooperating with me, Batman!” Bond yelled back, playing along. Batman walked past Bond, bent down and picked up the thug by his shirt. The thug was so frightened by Batman that he urinated in his pants.
“Who are you working for?” growled Batman.
“SPECTRE! Now please let me go!” screamed the frightened thug.
“What’s SPECTRE?” asked Batman.
“Special Executor for Counter-Intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge, and Extortion,” Bond chimed in, “Did Ernst Stavro Blofeld send you to steal Bruce Wayne’s briefcase?” he asked the thug.
“Yes! He wanted the blueprints to sell to the Iraqi’s so that they can destroy the British Army’s tanks by targeting their weak spots,” he said.
Batman set the man on his feet and said, “Take these,” as he handed the thug a folder. “Now get lost and tell your boss you achieved your objective.” The thug took the folder and limped away as fast as he could. Bond chuckled and said, “Thanks, Batman. It’s amazing how your suit intimidated the bastard more than my gun.”
“No problem, 007. I’ve found that fear and intimidation are more effective weapons than firearms. Now let’s get out of here before somebody sees us.” Bond and Batman walked back to the Aston. Bond started the car as Batman changed back into Bruce Wayne. As they continued driving to the Ministry of Defense, Wayne asked Bond to keep his secret safe.
“No problem, but how do we know that the thug won’t talk?” asked Bond.
“Batman in London? Nobody’s going to believe that especially if it’s coming from a man with a piss stain on his pants,” Wayne said with a grin.
“Point taken. Now what was in that folder?”
“Alfred’s recipe for chocolate chip cookies.”
Bond smiled and kept driving. Before meeting Wayne, Bond had assumed he’d be an annoying, rich playboy but he turned out to be one of the toughest men Bond had ever had the pleasure of working with.