Batman
The Batcave or Bust

NARRATOR: Bruce Wayne is a 38-year-old entrepreneur and philanthropist based in Gotham City. He describes himself as a "night owl" who works from home — though he's vague about what exactly that work entails.

BRUCE: I need a place that reflects my lifestyle. Open concept for entertaining. Reinforced walls for... security. And ideally a cave underneath. Non-negotiable on the cave.

NARRATOR: Bruce's budget is technically unlimited, but he's adamant about feeling like he negotiated.

BRUCE: I don't want to overpay. I know what caves are worth. I've done my research.

NARRATOR: He is accompanied by his butler, Alfred, who has been quietly updating a spreadsheet of structural requirements on an iPad since they arrived.

ALFRED: I've prepared a 47-page document outlining Master Wayne's needs. Page one is "cave access." Pages two through forty-seven are also "cave access."

REALTOR JANET: So this is a stunning penthouse with panoramic views of Gotham. Floor-to-ceiling windows, Italian marble, a chef's kitchen with—

BRUCE: Where's the cave?

JANET: I... sir, it's the 40th floor.

BRUCE: I'll build down.

JANET: You can't build down 40 floors.

BRUCE: Not with that attitude.

Bruce walks to the window and stares out at the Gotham skyline for an uncomfortably long time. Alfred begins measuring the floor thickness with a device Janet has never seen before.

BRUCE: The windows are a problem. Too much glass. Someone could crash through them.

JANET: Who would crash through a 40th-floor window?

BRUCE: *stares directly into camera* You'd be surprised.

JANET'S INNER MONOLOGUE: I have a master's degree. I sell $30 million penthouses. Why is this man asking me about caves? Why does his butler have a structural engineering degree? Why is there a grappling hook in his coat pocket? I saw it. I know what a grappling hook looks like.

JANET: This estate has 48 rooms, a grand ballroom, servants' quarters, and — I looked into this specifically for you — a natural limestone cave system beneath the west wing.

BRUCE: *visibly emotional* A cave?

JANET: A cave.

ALFRED: *already walking toward the basement* I'll need twenty minutes.

Alfred disappears. Sounds of measuring tapes and what might be sonar equipment echo from below. Janet pretends not to notice.

BRUCE: What about pole access?

JANET: ... Like a fireman's pole?

BRUCE: Exactly like a fireman's pole. From the study to the cave. Multiple entry points. I've drawn up specs.

He hands her a rolled blueprint. It is professionally drafted. It includes a waterfall feature.

BRUCE: The cave needs to fit at least six vehicles. Not cars. Vehicles. And a computer system. And a medical bay. And bats. I need the bats to stay. That's actually critical.

JANET: Most buyers want the bats removed—

BRUCE: I am not most buyers.

JANET'S INNER MONOLOGUE: He wants to keep the bats. He has blueprints for a fireman's pole with a waterfall. His butler just emerged from the cave with limestone samples and is muttering about "load-bearing stalactites." My therapist is going to hear about this on Thursday.

JANET: Now, this property needs... work. The previous owner abandoned it after a series of — and I'm quoting the listing here — "unexplained incidents."

BRUCE: *already walking inside* I love it.

JANET: You haven't seen the inside yet.

BRUCE: I don't need to. It has the right energy. Dark. Brooding. Tragic backstory. It's perfect.

ALFRED: The cave system extends over two miles, sir. I've taken the liberty of running ground-penetrating radar from the car.

JANET: You brought ground-penetrating radar to a house showing?

ALFRED: I bring it everywhere, madam. One learns to be prepared.

The grand staircase creaks ominously. A chandelier sways despite there being no wind. Bruce looks around with the expression of a man who has just found his soulmate.

BRUCE: The listing says $4.8 million. I'll offer $4.2.

JANET: Bruce, you're worth eleven billion dollars.

BRUCE: And I didn't get there by overpaying for haunted mansions. It's called negotiation, Janet.

JANET'S INNER MONOLOGUE: He's going to buy the haunted one. I know he's going to buy the haunted one. The man is worth eleven billion dollars and he's negotiating over $600K on a house that has bats and "unexplained incidents." He WANTS the bats. This is the worst showing of my career, and last week I showed a condo to a man who brought his own bathroom scale to weigh the countertops.

NARRATOR: After touring three properties, Bruce has made his decision.

BRUCE: I'm going with the abandoned mansion. It has the cave I need, the acreage for privacy, and the kind of atmosphere that says "I work alone at night and no one should ask why."

JANET: You're buying the haunted mansion that needs $50 million in renovations when there was a perfectly good penthouse—

BRUCE: The penthouse had no cave, Janet.

JANET: Right. The cave.

BRUCE: I offered $4.2 million and they accepted in eleven minutes. That's a deal.

ALFRED: The renovation budget is $127 million, sir. I've already hired the contractors. They've signed NDAs.

BRUCE: See? I saved $600K on the purchase price. Smart money.