Wayne?” Bruce sat behind his desk, staring at one of Wayne Enterprises’ top lawyers, Stu “The Exterminator” Schoenfeld. Schoenfeld was an intense young man with intense black hair. “Do?” he asked, going through a variety of documents. Off to the side, Margaret, as always, was manning the phone back. “You mean about Nygma?” “Yes, sir,” said Schoenfeld in exasperation. He waved documentation and memos around. “As near as I can determine, this ‘Box’ he’s planning to market . . . it’s from a device that he was creating while he was in our employ.” “This is the mind control thing, right?” asked Bruce. “With all due respect, Mr. Wayne, that’s a grotesque over-simplification.” He rose and crossed over to the far wall, inserting a CD file that he’d been composing. “I’ve been keeping track of his activities over the past weeks, sir.
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