The Toymaker
This fanfic was written purely for my own entertainment. All the characters you recognize, belong to DC Comics. The others are mine. Oh! And another thing – thank you Bob Kane!!
My name is Melanie Drake, and this is my story. I always wanted to say that, but in fact that isn't my name. It is, however, the only one you'll get.
I used to work at the Pentagon, for a very high-ranking General, who, for your safety shall remain nameless. He had a problem though – gambling. It didn't bother me too much till he started selling military weaponry to civilians, predominately criminal civilians, of course. It started with small items like night vision goggles, and automatic weapons. Eventually, he graduated to armor piercing bullets (the exploding kind), and ultimately an Apache Helicopter. Yes, you heard me right and I know who the buyer was too. It bothered me, but what was I to do? Yeah, I was a Major - big deal. In truth, I was a glorified administrative assistant with a penchant for security devices. Fortunately, the General didn't know the later.
I'll admit he did give me a head start. But then, what's a head start, when you are being chased by some of the most elite members of the military community. Someone began looking into his activities, he needed a fall guy, and I got elected. So now, I'm wanted for treason. I can't leave the country, so I look to go to the one place they're least likely to follow:
GOTHAM
I have a shop downtown. And in some circles, I'm known as the Toymaker. It actually is a toy store. It's also a front. Downstairs houses the other items I sell, very high tech security and surveillance devices. I've even invented a few of my own. Now that Gotham is to recovering, I have two very profitable businesses.
"Mr. Pennyworth, Mr. Pennyworth… hello how are you today?" I met Alfred Pennyworth at the grocery store, I accidentally bumped into him. Do you know how long it took me to 'accidentally' meet him - 6 weeks. I staked out the store for so long, I thought I was going to sprout roots. I told Alfred, I worked at the Toy Shoppe. He didn't even blink. I know he is aware of the downstairs showroom. He hasn't been in, but I've met a few of his cronies.
That's what initially caught my notice. I mean, I sell ultra sophisticated equipment. I even have installers. And well, Gotham being Gotham, I assure you, my client list looks like the city's Who's Who – from both sides of the legal fence. Only there's one name suspiciously missing. Yep, you guessed it – Wayne. I do a little digging and a little surveillance, and bingo. I've found Batman. I've spent quite a bit of time tracking his movements. I'm not very good at it. I've lost him, I don't know how many times. He is one busy guy. However, I'm persistent and have a few tricks of my own. This intrigue thing is completely different. I don't think I'll ever get it down. I make a decision.
"Alfred, do you have anything perishable in there?"
He raises an eyebrow. I feel like the principal's caught me cutting class.
"Could we, … I ugh…would you like to stop for a cup of tea?"
He looks as me intently, then replies, "That would be delightful Miss Drake."
There's this English tea parlor around the corner. It's late enough that I can order high tea. It comes with all kinds of goodies: scones and Devonshire clotted cream, petit fours in white and milk chocolate, and these little cucumber and watercress sandwiches (with the crusts cut off – seriously). Alfred has never been here before, and is thoroughly enjoying the spread. I am pleasantly surprised, he is a charming and considerate companion, making idle chit chat while I build my nerve. I'm fidgeting.
"Everything all right my dear?" he asks.
-2-
"No, but I'm managing. Um… the Toymaker received an invitation to an auction. The Toymaker doesn't want anything, however, concern is growing regarding certain items on the auction list, and a particular group of people who are very interested."
"How does this concern me, my dear?"
"Can you reach that phone book behind you? Thanks." I open the yellow pages to the "E" section, then flip a few more to find the following entry:
RODENT EXTERMINATORS – Bats Our Specialty
Call 555-DEAD
He looks up, both surprised and confused.
"I know who placed the ad. He thought is a great - joke." I continue on.
"The auction is for a variety of items, foremost among them are a military helicopter and armor piercing bullets. The items are not state of the art. They are, however, high tech enough to excite the Gotham thugs to a bidding frenzy. The Arkham crowd has decided to form a consortium. They'll be high bidder too, unless they kill each other first."
"What do you want from me?" asks Alfred.
Ok, I come out and say it. "He's been very reckless as of late. It's almost as if he's courting death."
Alfred makes no reply.
"The Toymaker would prefer to handle this without the Dark Knight's interference. Perhaps we can divert his attention."
"I'm afraid that will be impossible, my dear."
"You didn't…I knew you suspected me of something, but figured you hadn't taken it that far. I mean, I hoped you thought I might be looking for an introduction."
Sadly he shakes his head, "He insisted." I know I've turned rather pale.
Damn, Damn, Damn. I get up.
"Where are you going?" he asks kindly.
"To the ladies room to beat my head against the wall a few dozen times…"
I've screwed this up royally. Intrigue is not my forte. Now, where did I put that thing? Ah…here it is. Let me turn it on and presto – the tag is not on me. Then it must be on Alfred. Frequency, find the frequency. But it's so low; the range would be only…only 25 feet! He's in the teashop. I'm furious. Well, we'll see about that.
I return to the table, acting distracted and upset. "Alfred, I'm so sorry for this disaster. Truly, I had hoped we could work something out between the two of us. The Toymaker will be truly disappointed. We had hoped to resolve this without bringing in… well you know." In the meanwhile, I'm trying to scan the room. The shop's not that big. There he is…I'll get revenge on that nosey body.
"Maybe...Maybe we can do tea again some time." I walk out briskly. As I get to Wayne's table, I turn back to Alfred. While I'm speaking, I let the bag fly. "Alfred, perhaps…Oh my God!" I turn back around and deposit the pot of tea in his lap. "Oh sir! I'm so very sorry. I can't believe…please, let me help you." As he jumps up to avoid the tea, I hook my foot around his ankle. He goes down like a brick.
I lean over his prostrate form and quietly say, "It's not nice to eavesdrop. By the way, the disguise is pretty good, but the eyes are a dead giveaway." I turn and slowly walk out, feeling much better. Alfred's laugh echoes out the door, and for the first time in a long while, I smile.
I figured that retribution would be swift and merciless. Once again, I was wrong. He let me stew for a few days.
Ted, the little old man I hired to run the toyshop, left early that evening. It was just about midnight (we have unusual hours, mostly to accommodate the downstairs clientele – it's made us rather popular, in some circles). I was closing up and had just doused the lights when…
The door opened with such force that the little bell I suspended above the door (upstairs is decidedly low tech) comes off and goes flying across the room. It made a sad sort of clank. I thought it sounded rather foreboding.
"Where is he?" the intruder barked.
I almost reach for the gun under the counter, but suddenly a shift in the shadows reveals the reason I came to Gotham in the first place – BATMAN. I stare mesmerized, but for some reason, not afraid. I should be afraid. He appears angry, very angry. But all I feel is amused, terribly amused. He is both beautiful and dangerous…and standing in my doorway in his underwear. I mean grown men, (in the Pentagon, nonetheless) shudder in fear at his name. And yet, you can call it a costume or suit or whatever you like. As far as I'm concerned, it's his underwear. In fact, it's closer to a second skin. Oh! Hot…Hot…Hot!
Now is one of those times I wished I was long and lean, and could snap onto one of those come hither poses. But I'm not. I'm short and curvy, not heavy mind you, but more athletic. People call me 'cute', sometimes even, dare I say it 'perky'. God, how I hate that word. If you have big boobs, you know what I mean. Suddenly, I flip on one row of lights. I absolutely must have a better look. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my own reflection. I'm staring at him, which is understandable – who wouldn't. However, my expression well lets just say it looks like a cross between laughter and hunger, ouch! This is not good. I look closer and see a flush rise up his cheeks. To be honest, I'm not sure if I've angered or embarrassed him. Dumb, dumb move. My expression grows rueful. I just might need his help some day. I decide to break the silence. Which is strange, because I'm extremely intimidated by very handsome men. Ah, well.
"May I help you Batman?" (Polite be polite)
"I want the Toymaker." He replies tersely.
I don't know what possesses me, "Do you have an appointment?"
Batman gives me his best intimidating look.
"Look," I say, "let's make this easy, ok? Tell me what you want, be it products or information and I'll see what I can do. And yes, I know that you can go around me. However, do you know where you're going or who you're looking for? I think not."
"You know the Toymaker."
I can't resist, "Intimately."
"Is he here?"
"The Toymaker isn't a he" some imp pushes me. I look him in the eyes, wet my lips and ask only slightly above a whisper, "Wanna watch?"
He visibly tarts.
Nailed! I chuckle, "I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist. I don't get much levity these days. I'm truly not sure why I picked on you." I stick you my hand, "My name is Melanie Drake, and I'm the Toymaker. How may I help you?"
"Not amusing." He replies.
"Actually, it was. You know everyone says that you have a rather emotionless demeanor. They're wrong, very wrong, but I won't tell anyone." What in the hell am I doing? I can't afford to alienate him! Backtrack, backtrack you idiot! I walk over and lock the front door. "Come on, I'll take you downstairs."
The elevator in the back of the shop appears to be like any other. There are buttons to access floors both up and down. We step in and I ask Batman, "Do you want to go to the showroom?"
"That will be fine." He replies shortly.
I don't press any buttons, just state "Elevator, showroom please." A small panel pops open. I place my hand on the glass. The elevator replies 'identity confirmed' and we begin our descent.
We travel in complete silence. Believe it or not, I can't think of anything to say. I'm racking my brain for a way to gain his interest.
We arrive at the showroom. It's really just an empty room, no chairs or anything – I don't encourage lingering. The customers have to ask for specific items, or product lines. Given the nature of the majority of my customers, my security is a high priority. In this case, I figure – what
"Athena," I state, "Open up 1 and 3."
"Verify please" she replies.
I look at Batman, and reply to the computer, "The Hunt."
Two six-inch thick steel garage doors begin to open. The room grows to twice its original size. The left door has opened to reveal security devices of every shape and size. The right side houses the surveillance equipment. There are counters filled with the latest items. The larger products are mounted on the wall. Each has a specifications card and usage recommendation list. Batman goes straight to the observation section. He is looking very intently.
"I've never seen one of these, may I?"
"It's military issue," I reply, "Go right ahead."
I know he's excited, because he removes his gauntlets and I notice his hand shaking ever so slightly.
"Where did you get this?" he whispers with awe.
"It's not for sale. I've been using it…to…to umm… track you."
"So it is you. No wonder you've been so successful."
"I modified it myself. Would you accept it as a peace offering?" I ask.
"A large portion of this stuff is from the Military. How did you get it?"
The computer breaks into the conversation, "Visitors – Level 1."
"Athena, please identify." I reply.
"Mr. Clotfelter and two women dressed like rabbits. Each is armed."
"Thank you computer, please tell them I shall be there momentarily."
I turn to Batman, "It's a long story."
"I've got time. Will you need me upstairs?"
"No, not at all. But, I'll leave on the audio. I think I know why he is here."
"Oh, if the doors begin to close, it means we're coming down. Just hop behind one of the counters, ok?"
He nods.
"Good evening Mr. Clotfelter, sir, as always it is a pleasure to see you."
He smiles and nods. I continue, "Unfortunately, the Toymaker is not in this evening. I don't currently have access to the showroom. Nonetheless, is there some way I may help you?"
"Yes, my dear, yes yes." His reply almost sounds like a quacking duck. I've never gotten used to it. "I need the works for a airplane hanger along Amusement Mile."
"Amusement Mile airplane hangers?" I've been all over the city and never realized…
"They are rather old, my dear, but will serve our purposes nicely."
"How soon is it needed, and how large is the structure?" I ask.
Clotfelter looks at his bunnies, "You see before you, my girls, a true business woman." He then turns to face me, "It's 22,000 square feet, and has to be fully functional by the end of the week."
"I'll need access first thing tomorrow morning. I will provide an estimate on the spot and will start as soon as it's signed. I'll have to augment the regular crew and pull some guys off of other jobs, be forewarned, this project is going to cost a bundle."
He pulls out his cell phone (I was a little concerned there for a moment) and states "Let me make a quick telephone call."…
Clotfelter puts his cell phone away, "Everything shall be as you request it, my dear."
"Mr. Clotfelter, sir, may I ask who shall be paying?"
"The seller, my dear, the seller."
"Can you provide me with the address, or is that a problem?"
He hands me a slip of paper. I take it, place it in my pocket without reading it, and put out my hand. "Thank you sir, it's always a pleasure doing business with you. I will arrive at the location no later than 8am with two crewmembers to draw up plans and provide an estimate. Shall I fax you as usual?"
"That will be splendid. Have a good evening, my dear." He quacks.
Upon my return to the showroom, I find Batman sitting on the floor. He's going through a box that had been locked up in my safe.
"Now may not be the best time to go through that particular box." I state softly.
Startled, he looks up. I can see the pain and anger in his face.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" he yells. "How, where…did you get all this?" He gestures to the box.
"I stole it."
"Big surprise there. From Whom?"
"The Pentagon."
"WHAT?" Then he takes a deep breath and proceeds to verbally tear into me – up one side and down the other. To be honest, I got so boiling mad, I tuned most of it out. As he began to drag on, I suddenly explode.
"SCREW YOU RICH BOY! WHO, do you think YOU are to pass judgment upon anyone? You're no different than the rest of us! WE just didn't have the money to indulge our fantasies! For the common folk, convictions, along with hopes and dreams, end up getting trampled in the day to day struggle just to survive."
He looks taken back. I have a feeling no one has ever spoken to him like this. However, the floodgates are open, there's no stopping me now.
"Guess what, I'm an orphan too. There wasn't pots of money. Only just enough, to get me through college. My uncle was my guardian, too. However, he gambled and drank the money away. When it ran out – I was thrown out. For over six months, I lived on the streets and mooched off friends, because I was determined to finish high school." He looks shocked. "Yes. I said high school. I desperately wanted to go to college, so I sold myself to the military. Did I like it? Not, particularly. Did I learn? You bet, like a sponge. My biggest disappointment came when I made the Winter Olympic Team, in the Biathlon- that's shooting and skiing." He nods. I continue, I just can't stop, "At the last minute, I was told I couldn't go. You want to know why? Because the General I worked for was in business with my husband (yes, I said husband) selling military armaments to criminals. They didn't want to chance a temporary transfer discovering their dirty secrets! No, but It was ok that I found out, because that's why they picked me. I had no one to turn to and nowhere to go. You see, in the army, you can't just up and quit. I still owed two years. So, I filed for divorce and requested a transfer. The General denied my request. You see, they had become a little too greedy. The missing helicopter set off a few alarm bells and they needed to produce a fall guy. Things are different in the military, I was tried and found guilty in absentia." I begin to calm down. "I was so stupid and naïve it was downright pathetic." I take a deep breath. "I pulled myself together and surveyed the situation. I can't leave the country and I can't get a job." I sit on the floor. "I rack my brain for an idea. Where wouldn't they follow? What do they fear? The answer was suddenly easy – because of you."
Batman moves to sit next to me.
"I start building my businesses and my network. Athena, please open door two. Take down series BC and WM." The door, which is like the other two, opens to reveal a wall of monitors each of which is hooked into a different Gotham location.
"There must be at least 60 monitors," Batman states "Gordon would kill for something like this."
"Just Gordon?" I smile. "It initially started as a way to monitor the Feds. As my business grew, I realized I could use it to keep track of your favorite friends."
"You're the one. You've been shadowing me." He states with a small amount of heat.
"On occasion, but I thought we already established that." I reply.
"You shoot people. I don't like guns." He states flatly.
"I play by your rules – I wound, but don't kill." I retort.
"You've been lucky."
"No, I'm that good. You see in the beginning, I didn't particularly care for guns either. But, I forced myself to become good at it, because I didn't have any other choice."
"There are always choices."
"Then I wish you had been around when I was making mine." I reply sadly.
…
"Are you thirsty or hungry?" I ask.
"No, I want you to continue."
"I was in Gotham six months, when I deduced your identity. On my next visit to the Pentagon, I decided to check your file. Evidently, the whole investigation began with your father. Just before he died he made some business decisions that angered the Feds. They decided to keep an eye on you, when you began doing a lot of international travel."
"That long ago?"
"I'm afraid so. Someone, and I'm not sure who, requisitioned your file from the FBI."
"The FBI and the Pentagon? And I thought I was one of the good guys." He sadly replies.
"It doesn't say that you're not, one of the good guys, I mean. What it shows is they (along with the entire criminal community) are afraid of you.
"But, why?"
"They don't understand your motivation."
"Oh really…andYou want me to believe that you just waltzed out with the boxes?" Batman asks sarcastically.
"No, believe it or not, I took them to the mailroom." I smile, he doesn't.
"How did you get in?"
"First, I know what I'm doing. Second, I don't look anything like I used to. And third, do you believe that the military expects a convicted traitor to just waltz into the Pentagon? It's the very last place they expect to see me."
"Hum…and the boxes have been here ever since?" His voice begins to rise, "With all Gotham's trash circulating in and out of here?"
"The boxes arrived some time ago. When they arrived, I couldn't decide what to do with them. So, I put them directly in the safe. They sat there for about a year and a half. I was having some problems tracking you and in an attempt to understand how you think, I read the files. Honestly, it wasn't pleasant, I felt like a peeping Tom. It was however, extremely effective. After that, it became much easier to keep tabs on your movements.
"Why?"
"You have been getting increasingly reckless." He starts at that bit of information.
"Normally that shouldn't bother too many people, least of all me. However, as far as I'm concerned, you are the goose that laid the golden egg. You see, the birth of Batman hasn't just affected you and Gotham. Your goals, determination, passion, perseverance…shall I keep going?"
"Please do!"
Skills, knowledge and ability to organize, have become the standard of excellence by which all law enforcement, and much of the military is measured. People in NY, Chicago, Washington, and LA whisper your name. Some pray that you'll come to them, and others quake in fear at the possibility. This is what concerns the government. Why? Because some consider you a miracle – even a God."
He snorts.
"No really, but more importantly, others look to you as the pinnacle of leadership."
"That's all very flattering, but hardly realistic." He replies sarcastically.
"I'm serious! And you'll read it too; it's all in the FBI documents. Why do you think the military rarely comes to Gotham?"
He shrugs.
"They're afraid to piss you off."
He laughs; it sounds more like a bark.
"They are terrified at the possibility of you either switching sides or turning Gotham into a police state."
"NO." he states very firmly.
"Unfortunately for you, that's irrelevant. It's what Washington thinks that matters. You have too much money and power for them to risk eliminating you. Besides, what would they do if Batman were to retaliate? They can't afford the negative publicity. However, in the past, they have financed a few of your adversaries. But for now they prefer to leave you, hence Gotham, alone. And that suits me just fine."
Batman tightens his jaw, stands and turns away.
"Now, do you understand?" I ask. "It was such a difficult call. You deserved to know, but it's all so surreal, maybe you would have been better off not knowing." I look to my lap.
"And I thought I was one of the good guys." I hear him take a deep breath.
"I don't know what to say, except that the files are no longer in their possession, and that I'm very sorry."
I look up and he's gone. I'm not even sure if he heard me.
…
I'm truly concerned. Let's see where he's gone. "Athena, activate BM #1 on the big screen. Also provide two way audio for tag #1." Computer replies, " Task completed."
I watch the screen for a while. I'm beginning to get decidedly ill.
I finally break in, "Did you just run a stoplight!?" and "Slow down, slow down, you're going way too fast."
The brakes screech and I hear him say with growing indignation, "What the…You tagged me? You tagged me! You never touched me, HOW could you tag me?"
"I didn't not really - you tagged yourself, when you broke into the safe. You're lucky it wasn't fully armed, it wouldn't have been pretty."
He begins to chuckle, it's a low pitched and self-depreciating sound.
"You left before we finished."
"I did?"
"The Penguin?"
"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it."
"Do you want to come to the hanger tomorrow morning? Bill Turpin and I are leaving from the shop at 7:30am.
"You're taking the job?"
"If you're real questions is, are you going to install the security, so you can override the security and steal the chopper – the answer is yes. And don't give me a lecture about stealing. As far as I'm concerned, I've already paid for that chopper…with my freedom."
"If you decide to go, be back here by 7am. Wear the oldest and grubbiest jeans or sweats you own. You might want to have Alfred color your hair, but wear a baseball cap at the very least. Oh, and don't shave or bathe. The seller may be there, and I have a feeling he would recognize you."
"Who is it?" he asks.
"Let's leave that a surprise."
"Oh, by the way! Let me know how long it takes you to find the tags. Good night Batman."
"You mean, there's more than one?" he replies, but I'm already gone.
Athena, let's lock up for the night – well...what's left of it, anyway."
…
It's 7:20am. I figure he's not coming. Turpin will be here any minute. Oh, well!
Suddenly, in walks this red headed hunk.
"Hey, red! I see you took me seriously."
"It's not red, its auburn." He replies.
"You seem a little too chipper, are you ok?"
"Not really, but I'll survive… I always do."
"Alright, let's take a closer look. Hands please."
He has big hands, with long strong fingers. They're very calloused, but the nails are clean and nicely manicured. Hands to make you feel safe. I sigh.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"They're too clean" I reply, "but we can fix that."
I look up at his face. It too is strong, and gives and almost unyielding impression. The only soft spot is his lips. When he hasn't pulled than back into that grim expression of his, they're tempting, very tempting. I want to reach up, pull his head down and suck on those lips. I shudder, whoa girl, time for a reality check! I break in to my own reverie.
"I have some colored contact lenses. Do you think you can manage them?"
He swallows and nods. I must have been a little obvious, oops!
"Get rid of the expensive watch. It will be noticed."
I step back and examine him from head to toe. He looks like he just rolled out of bed. I feel like I want to drag him back. "You'll do."
He quirks a half smile. I think, don't tell me he reads minds, too?
"What did you drive?"
He points to a red pick-up truck. It's not to old and not to clean.
"Perfect." I smile.
Bill Turpin shows up, and the three of us head off. Turpin decides to take his own truck.
"Is he related to…" "Yes," I break in, "his youngest brother."
"But why?"
"Work for me? I pay very well and this is what he does best. Anything more, I've never asked."
"So. I'm the only one you've decided to examine under the microscope? He replies sarcastically.
I'm thinking, do we have to do this now?
"Yes," I state softly, "You're enigmatic and intriguing. I tried to leave the documents alone, really I did. But they were just so incredibly tempting. I'll tell you it was odd, playing the voyeur, almost erotic. The more I learned about you, the more I wanted to know. I was very educational. I've learned an incredible amount by just watching you. I'm referring to your detective, survival and hunting techniques. It's been invaluable; you're a terrific teacher. "
"Aren't you being a little dramatic?"
"I'll need and use everything. That is, if I intend to survive. When you see the seller, you'll understand."
…
We arrive at the hanger first. The three of us begin going over the details of Penguin's request and countering those measures with our own. The Penguin eventually arrives with the seller in tow.
"They're here," I elbow Bruce.
He doesn't even look up, "I'm aware of that." He slowly turns towards the newcomers. I hear a hiss of indrawn breath, "Luther." I could hear the note of disgust in his voice.
"You sure can pick them."
I turn to Bruce, "Well I figure if you're gonna have an enemy, it might as well pick the best, or is that the worst?"
"But the Federal Government and Lex Luther? Are you crazy?"
"No more than you." I reply with a laugh.
"Tell me, is there anything else I should be aware of?"
"I'm very hungry." It comes our rather suggestively, and for a moment, I wonder if I've made a mistake.
"You should have had breakfast." He replies shortly.
Oh well, so much for that!
Introductions go around, I introduce Bruce as Wayne McGuinness. Luther doesn't even blink. Bill draws up the floor plan, while we discuss the details. There are several additional items Luther wants, but I inform him that he hasn't left us enough time. He is pissed, but soon calms down. As it is, we'll have to work round the clock. As they depart, I ballpark an estimate. Luther's eyebrows rise and Penguin starts. "If it's problem, please let me know now." I state.
Luther and Penguin exchange looks, and Luther replies smoothly "No, not at all."
…
"Wasn't that a bit much?" Bruce asks.
"I don't expect to get paid. At least not the full amount."
"They'll think…" I cut into his reply. "They'll think that I'm greedy and stupid. Which suit's me just fine."
We walk over to where Bill is working.
"Well?" I ask Bruce "What do you think?"
"I have some ideas."
…
With a crew of 22, we complete both projects, just in time. We are running a series of tests as they bring the chopper into the hanger. I look over at Bruce; "You're drooling" I smile.
"I don't drool."
"Sure," I smirk. "I want a closer look." I stroll over to Luther and ask if I can have a closer look.
"Just don't touch anything!" he replies.
I look around a little, turn and shout, "Hey Wayne, You've got to take a look at this!"
When he arrives I point to the instrument panel.
"Hot stuff," he whistles. We proceed to gawk and point like tourists in Greenwich Village.
It creates just the impression we want.
I lean over to whisper, "Not a bad consolation prize for someone wrongly accused of treason."
Clotfelter comes up and states, "Isn't she a beauty? She will rule the Gotham skies. Now my dear, here is the first payment, you'll get the second after the auction closes."
"That's fine sir." I reply as he hands me a briefcase filled with cash.
"Aren't you going to check it?" he asks.
"Do I need to?" I reply.
He looks up at me (I'm short, but he's even shorter) and I stick out my hand to shake his and state "I'm sure everything is just fine, thank you." The Penguin appears to stand slightly taller.
As we head back to the truck, Bruce states, "That was pretty smooth."
"Well…" I look directly at him, "I've been taking lessons from a master."
…
We know the day, but not the time of the auction. Gordon and his crew are on high alert. Also, we've got to find a way to give him some lead-time or we'll be overwhelmed. Bruce went to the auction as the geriatric Toymaker (he wore his Batsuit underneath his disguise, of course). I wore a cloaking device. It's brand new technology. The last time I was at the Pentagon, I swiped it from the General's office. My role was to fly the helicopter out of there and to another hanger about a mile away. Batman was in charge of everything else. This includes opening the hanger doors, rounding up the 50+ or so Gotham crime world figures in attendance, seeing that no one absconds with any of the auction items, and most importantly, hanging on to Luther. In the back of my mind, I hoped (futilely) that Luthers' exposure, as an arms dealer would weaken the case against me. But they don't call him the Teflon Don for nothing. He
has lots of friends in Washington. Most likely, they will see he's taken care of, or he will drag them down with him.
It was an amazing experience, having the opportunity to watch Bruce work. To be honest, I've always thought that he was missing a few marbles. (But then again, who isn't?) I was awestruck. He was so organized and thorough. He had plans and contingent plans for anything that could possible happen. He even had separate contingency plans for each one of the Arkham crowd. He chose which tools to use and decided exactly where each would be placed on his suit. Our movements were not only timed, but mapped out as well! That includes Gordon and his crew, too! A born strategist, he put anything I had seen in the military, to shame.
Initially, the capture goes off without a hitch. Mercy gave Batman a run for the money. But there was no doubt who would be the victor there. As usual, it was the Arkham crowd that caused the most trouble. They were unusually docile. Batman recognized it right away. I was already seated in the chopper (the cloaking device works like a gem – I'm a little cold, though), when they struck. It was gas, a deadly gas. Batman knew they would pull something. He was right. He puts on his gas mask and signals me. I fire two small missiles, one to the front and the other towards the rear hanger doors. The fresh air begins to dissipate the gas. However, I have another problem. Arkham's chosen pilot is attempting to get into the chopper. My only advantage is that he can't see me.
Perhaps, I didn't mention this before. He cloaking device works very, very well, but only, on skin. I never could get it to work any other way. In other words, I'm in the buff. I have no weapons or any other form of protection.
Who is supposed to pilot the chopper out for the Arkham group? The Joker. Yes, that's what I said. Cloak or no cloak, I'm afraid, very afraid. Batman signals for me to take off, I would prefer to wait for him like we planned, but an order is an order. As I leave the hanger, I look down to see the Joker hanging on. Unless I can scrape him off, he will get in. I think he believes that the chopper is being flown by remote. He is franticly trying to open the door. I use the trees to try to brush him off. I am unsuccessful. I circle the chopper back to the original hanger. I fly through the hanger. I see Batman; he makes the most incredible dive towards us. It's all happening so fast. They are fighting. And I'm trying to both watch and fly. They are holding so precariously. I'm terrified Batman will fall. I decide to fly over the river. Suddenly, a very tired Joker just lets go. On the way down, I can hear him say "Bye, bye Bats happy flying!" And then there's that laughter. It's bone chilling. I think I'll remember that sound till the day I die. I get the shivers just thinking about it. I look back to see Batman pulling himself into the chopper. His cape is shredded and his suit is ripped in several places. I don't, however, see much blood. He turns to look down where the Joker went into the drink. I circle a number of times, but there's no sign of him.
"Is he gone for good?" I ask.
"Not likely." He replies as he takes his seat up front.
"Do we stick with the original plan?"
He says, "Yes…oh yes." I wonder what that means. I drop Batman off to talk to Gordon and proceed to the second hanger. Good, the Batmobile is there. I put some clothes in the car. I'm glad this is over – besides, I'm freezing. I hop out of the chopper, punch the key code on the Batmobile, and…nothing happens. I try again and again. This sucks. I've got to find a warm place to wait.
"Melanie, I have no time for games, where are you?" Batman asks.
I laugh, "Over here, I'm your new hood ornament!" I'm feeling extremely reckless. I turn off the cloaking device. Voila, there I am draped seductively (I hope) across the front hood of the Batmobile.
Batman casually strolls over, then suddenly his hand reaches out, grabs my ankle and pulls me forward so I'm straddling his hips.
"Nice," he says "But I think, I'd like to see you mounted here instead."
He then proceeds to peal off his costume. I help with the tights. Have you ever removed tights from a man? It's truly erotic. I tool them off ever so slowly, biting, kissing and sucking all the way to his toes. Needless to say, sex was WILD. In fact, we put a dent in the hood. He says he thinks he just might keep it! I'll tell you something else. For a man of few words, he's an incredibly noisy lover. I like it. It's such a turn on, as well as being totally unexpected.
The next 8 months were pure bliss. We were in perfect accord on everything. Sex was phenomenal; it had undertones of an insatiable hunger. It was too good to be true. I was right. One day, I asked Bruce to help with the reprogramming of Athena's access codes. I wasn't there when he finished. He called me later that evening to say that he wouldn't be over, and that he would be gone for a week or so. I didn't think much of it; he still had a financial empire to run.
He returned earlier that expected. I found him lying in the middle of my bed, with an arm crossed over his eyes.
"Hello lover, missed me that much, did ya?" I chirped.
He moved his arm to look up at me. I saw something I never expected to see. Bruce's eyes were red and his face and hair looked suspiciously damp. He looked at me with an expression of defeat, I'll never forget. I was momentarily speechless. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled myself together.
"Tell me." I said softly.
"I've ruined everything."
"How?"
"I found the your file, the one that details the General's activities, and Luther's comings and goings."
"Ah yes, my insurance policy." I state.
"I took it to Washington and called on a few friends. We all went to the Pentagon. I figured…I thought…"
"I know." The funny thing was – I really did understand how an honorable man like Bruce Wayne couldn't have anticipated the Pentagon's actions.
In a dead voice he said, "They know you're innocent, but won't reverse the charges of treason. They said that a general is of too high a rank to commit such crimes. There would be too much public backlash, both domestic and international. I told them 'The evidence proves he is guilty, this file details everything including the money trail.' One of the Pentagon security chiefs looked me straight in the eye and said that there was no evidence. I waved the disk in front of his nose and said, 'What's this?' He never broke eye contact and said 'What's what?' I left thinking that I would go public with the disk. But didn't want to do it without talking to you first."
"They will make our lives hell." I reply.
"It was supposed to be a surprise, some surprise." He states in a defeated voice.
I suddenly realize what he is trying to say. I turn and climb on top of him. I lean forward and just before I bite his earlobe and I whisper, "I love you too." His arms come around me. For a while we just lay there, fully clothed, kissing, stroking, and just staring into each other's eyes. We didn't have wild sex, we made passionate love. I assure you, there is a difference. I don't think that I ever 'made love' before. It was slow and languorous. I felt my body hum. My God, I climaxed, I don't know how many times. There wasn't a part of my body that he didn't touch. And, I assure you; I returned the favor, with relish. In the end, we lay there holding hands and calming our wildly beating hearts.
Suddenly Bruce beaks the quiet, "Mel, marry me." I am so completely caught off guard that I burst into tears. Through my sobs, I hear his voice, "My God, I'm so sorry. PLEASE, PLEASE don't cry!" Bruce doesn't know what to do, what man would. I look up into those beautiful blue eyes, the ones I used to
think were icy cold, emotionless and forbidding, and I want to die. "I can't Bruce, I can't. Oh God how I wish I could! You know I can't. In fact I should be packing as we speak."
"What do you mean?"
"They followed you."
"I know, but I lost them."
They are here already, my hands begin to shake, and I feel like I want to throw up. I go to get up and Bruce pulls me back down. "Calm down. We'll handle it."
"Calm down!" I shout, "don't you get it. You read your files. They are afraid of you. Now, we've given them a perfect opportunity to take you down. And they're going to use me to do it!" At this point I'm struggling in his tight grasp. "I have to leave…NOW!"
I begin rambling, "You can have the Helicopter. I was going to give it to you for your birthday anyway, and the stores, too. You can hire Turpin to run them. He's trustworthy and well connected." Bruce stops me in mid ramble with a glorious kiss. It's one of those kisses where you lose tack of your thoughts.
"Calm down, You're not going anywhere."
"Don't you understand, didn't you learn anything?" I shout. They will make you an accessory. It's a federal crime to harbor a traitor. They will throw you in JAIL and take EVERYTHING, everything. They'll find it a rather humorous and fitting punishment."
"Punishment?" he asks.
They're already afraid of you. Now you come knocking, with powerful friends in tow and attempt to trip up their carefully laid scheme. Believe me, if I stay, they will try to nail you. I've got to leave."
"You truly believe that?"
"Do you think that I want to leave you? I love you so much it hurts. But even more importantly I respect and admire Bruce Wayne and Batman. Each is a man of merit, but to have them rolled into one truly gorgeous hunk. Well, it's a girl's dream come true. In my dreams, the future goes something like 'they work together, play together, boink like rabbits and live happily ever after."
"Don't you think I want a Happily Ever After?"
At this point, I've got tears running down my face, again.
Quietly Bruce suddenly says, "I have a house, on the beach, in Malaysia. It's beautiful there. We'll take my plane and you can wear the cloaking device when we go through customs. I've been looking for someone to work the Far East for Wayne Tech."
"Are you sure?"
"I'd prefer that you stay, but understand your reasoning – unfortunately, all too well."
Bruce leans forward and kisses me. His time our lovemaking hungry, wild and desperate. Physically, it doesn't get any better. Emotionally we're both a wreck.
We left two days later. It was just in time. The Feds targeted the toyshop and the Manor for a synchronized visit. Alfred handled everything with his usual perfect efficiency. We became good friends, traded lots of email, and worried over Bruce together. Bruce visits me, at least twice a year. As we've gotten older his stays last longer and longer. Unfortunately, that's not true of the sex. His heart condition restricts his physical activity, so he tells me. I'm just glad he's around. I am pleasantly surprised our relationship has lasted this long. Maybe the distance is what made it work. I don't think he could have coped with a fulltime relationship on top of everything else. He's given up going out as Batman. He will always be Batman to me. He had a variety of reasons, but none for becoming a hermit. As for me, well, after all those years, at the grand old age of 46, I became a mother. Can you believe it? Bruce was overjoyed, even ecstatic. I was horrified. What did I know? Nonetheless, we had a girl; her name is Martha, of course. If I do say so myself, she is going to break hearts. Bruce visited last month. He was in exceptionally good spirits. He has a new young man to train. Bruce claims that the boy just walked in and took what he wanted. Sounds a little like me. He acts a little peeved, but I know he is truly glad to be back to work. He's so much more alive. Yes, that means we made love. He just walked in, plunked his medicine down on the nightstand and announced that he was feeling much better. It felt fine to me, too! He actually spent some time humming (yes, as in music) a song while he was here. I asked him what it was. He just looked at me and quirked that half smile I adore and told me to figure it out. It took me a while, but I got it! It was Grow Old With Me by John Lennon.
I think that maybe, just maybe it's been long enough. I would like to go home, and try for that Happily Ever After. I'll have to talk to Martha. I'll mention her father's new employee. He's a good-looking young man and just a year older. That should convince her.
See you in Gotham.