Nope, I don't own Batman Beyond, or any DC characters. I'm not even a
stockholder.
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Melanie stood outside the diner, wrapping her coat tightly against the night's chill. As she walked home, she sank deep into a lonely, hopeless feeling. Despair had pursued her for the last few months. Now it followed her everywhere.
It was five years since her last mission as Ten, but felt like a lifetime ago. She cut all ties with that world - except for Jack, who joined her on the straight and narrow. Right now, she longed to call her mother, if only she knew the number.
The hamburger Melanie just devoured left her with just a handful of creds - not nearly enough to keep her well-fed until next payday. Then there were the meds she couldn't quite afford. Would I take the fall today? - Melanie wondered grimly. She had held out from temptation this long, but maybe it would be a losing battle. Just one job, and she wouldn't have to worry until next month. But how much of her soul would it cost her?
These five years have made me soft, Melanie thought harshly, staring down at the pavement. It was cracked and strewn with withered leaves. People were moving in and out of the shadows, some with small plastic bags, others with stacks of cred, all desperate and feeding off each other. When I was Ten, I never cared who stood in the way of what I wanted. We wanted - and had - so much. We never worried about food, shelter, or medicine, Melanie thought, and poor Jack. This is what it came down to - Jack, her brother, and possibly her only friend in this world. Fighting back the lump swelling in her throat, Melanie numbly took off her coat. This is what Jack needs, and all the rest is bullshit. Warm tears burned her cheeks as she loosed her blonde hair, unbuttoned her blouse and hiked her skirt up a little. She wiped away the tears, exhaled deeply, and straightened up. She'll do it just this once, for my brother.
Only ten minutes passed, but it felt like an eternity. Finally a car stopped. A nervous-looking, middle-aged man rolled down the window and leaned over the seat towards Melanie. She steeled herself before bending down and squeezing her breasts together between her arms, making sure he saw her improved cleavage. "Hi there, lover," she said softly. "You like what you see?" The man gulped audibly.
"Um, how much for a half-and-half?" he asked, still nervous. Melanie froze - what the hell's a half-and-half? She obviously couldn't ask, so she just made it for the cost of Jack's medicine.
"Two hundred creds, but I'm worth every penny," she purred. "I'll do anything you want." The man smiled slowly, suddenly thinking of his toybox in the backseat. He opened the door. Melanie wanted to puke.
"Come in then," he said. She welcomed the relative warmth of his car, and was about to get in when a large shadow passed overhead.
"Go home to your wife, dreg," Batman's voice was behind Melanie. The man obediently sped away, barely closing the door before stepping on the gas. "As for you," he turned toward Melanie, "you've got some explaining." She didn't think it could get any worse. She could ask Batman not to take her to the police, but that never worked in the past. Suddenly, Batman grabbed her around the waist and flew them to an isolated rooftop.
He stood directly in front of her. "So what happened down there?" he asked quietly. Maybe it was the tone of his voice that touched her, but she couldn't stop the tears from pouring down her face.
"Why do you care?" she answered bravely. "Would it matter what I said, you'll have me arrested anyway."
"I've been watching you since you've gotten out, Melanie," he started, "and you've been a model citizen so far. So I don't understand - what happened down there?" Melanie sank down, sitting on the gravel rooftop and wrapping her arms tightly around her knees. She looked very small.
"There's just no good jobs when you've got a record," she began. Her eyes never left the ground. "The restaurant job was all I had. It didn't pay much, but it was enough. I got Jack a job there, and things were pretty good for a while. I even thought about night school."
"Then Jack got sick. It was just a cough, we thought, but he kept getting worse. That's when he lost his job - couldn't have people coughing all over the food. We finally went to the clinic," she paused, and Batman spoke.
"Tuberculosis?" Melanie nodded. It shouldn't exist in the twenty-first century. For the most part, it doesn't, that is, except for the poor.
"Since when did you become a social worker?" she asked, eyes hard. Terry felt stung.
"Melanie, despite what you think, I care what happens to you. I want things to work out." His gentle tone made her feel better, like she wasn't so alone anymore. "So he needs antibiotics," he continued, getting back on topic.
"Yeah, lots of them. And without health insurance it's too expensive. I thought, if only I could get enough money to buy a month's worth - maybe Jack would be well enough to get another job. And that's when you found me," she ended, glancing up at the Bat. Terry's mind raced, trying to find a way to help without blowing his cover. He's Batman, not St. Vincent de Paul. Finally he straightened and spoke.
"Just hang in for one more night. Things will turn around very soon." He turned and opened his wings before adding, "By the way - your friend down there? He gets off on choking his girlfriends. Been on his tail this week, and I'm getting him tonight. He's not the only creep out here, so go home." With that, he left.
Melanie collected her coat on the way home. She made her way up the cracked stoop, past a woman who staked out the warm corner adjacent the door for the night. That'll be me soon, Melanie thought grimly, who ever guessed this would be my future. Up the narrow stairwell and down a poorly lit hall was Melanie and Jack's "home". This was one of many weekly rental motels in Old Gotham, whose usual customers were homeless people who somehow scraped together enough money to afford a smelly mattress and four walls for seven days. After Jack lost his job, they couldn't afford their old apartment. They were evicted, and spent the returned deposit on food and medicine. Without a security deposit, the Roseland Motel was the best they could do.
Jack was asleep when she entered their room. She took the napkin out of her pocket and unwrapped a handful of cold french fries as she knelt by the bed. Jack rolled over to face her.
"You were out pretty long, Mel," he yawned. "I was starting to worry."
"I just saw someone I knew, and I guess we lost track of time," she said softly, "here, eat." She watched her brother pick at the shriveled fries in silence for a while, wondering what the next day would bring.
Melanie stood outside the diner, wrapping her coat tightly against the night's chill. As she walked home, she sank deep into a lonely, hopeless feeling. Despair had pursued her for the last few months. Now it followed her everywhere.
It was five years since her last mission as Ten, but felt like a lifetime ago. She cut all ties with that world - except for Jack, who joined her on the straight and narrow. Right now, she longed to call her mother, if only she knew the number.
The hamburger Melanie just devoured left her with just a handful of creds - not nearly enough to keep her well-fed until next payday. Then there were the meds she couldn't quite afford. Would I take the fall today? - Melanie wondered grimly. She had held out from temptation this long, but maybe it would be a losing battle. Just one job, and she wouldn't have to worry until next month. But how much of her soul would it cost her?
These five years have made me soft, Melanie thought harshly, staring down at the pavement. It was cracked and strewn with withered leaves. People were moving in and out of the shadows, some with small plastic bags, others with stacks of cred, all desperate and feeding off each other. When I was Ten, I never cared who stood in the way of what I wanted. We wanted - and had - so much. We never worried about food, shelter, or medicine, Melanie thought, and poor Jack. This is what it came down to - Jack, her brother, and possibly her only friend in this world. Fighting back the lump swelling in her throat, Melanie numbly took off her coat. This is what Jack needs, and all the rest is bullshit. Warm tears burned her cheeks as she loosed her blonde hair, unbuttoned her blouse and hiked her skirt up a little. She wiped away the tears, exhaled deeply, and straightened up. She'll do it just this once, for my brother.
Only ten minutes passed, but it felt like an eternity. Finally a car stopped. A nervous-looking, middle-aged man rolled down the window and leaned over the seat towards Melanie. She steeled herself before bending down and squeezing her breasts together between her arms, making sure he saw her improved cleavage. "Hi there, lover," she said softly. "You like what you see?" The man gulped audibly.
"Um, how much for a half-and-half?" he asked, still nervous. Melanie froze - what the hell's a half-and-half? She obviously couldn't ask, so she just made it for the cost of Jack's medicine.
"Two hundred creds, but I'm worth every penny," she purred. "I'll do anything you want." The man smiled slowly, suddenly thinking of his toybox in the backseat. He opened the door. Melanie wanted to puke.
"Come in then," he said. She welcomed the relative warmth of his car, and was about to get in when a large shadow passed overhead.
"Go home to your wife, dreg," Batman's voice was behind Melanie. The man obediently sped away, barely closing the door before stepping on the gas. "As for you," he turned toward Melanie, "you've got some explaining." She didn't think it could get any worse. She could ask Batman not to take her to the police, but that never worked in the past. Suddenly, Batman grabbed her around the waist and flew them to an isolated rooftop.
He stood directly in front of her. "So what happened down there?" he asked quietly. Maybe it was the tone of his voice that touched her, but she couldn't stop the tears from pouring down her face.
"Why do you care?" she answered bravely. "Would it matter what I said, you'll have me arrested anyway."
"I've been watching you since you've gotten out, Melanie," he started, "and you've been a model citizen so far. So I don't understand - what happened down there?" Melanie sank down, sitting on the gravel rooftop and wrapping her arms tightly around her knees. She looked very small.
"There's just no good jobs when you've got a record," she began. Her eyes never left the ground. "The restaurant job was all I had. It didn't pay much, but it was enough. I got Jack a job there, and things were pretty good for a while. I even thought about night school."
"Then Jack got sick. It was just a cough, we thought, but he kept getting worse. That's when he lost his job - couldn't have people coughing all over the food. We finally went to the clinic," she paused, and Batman spoke.
"Tuberculosis?" Melanie nodded. It shouldn't exist in the twenty-first century. For the most part, it doesn't, that is, except for the poor.
"Since when did you become a social worker?" she asked, eyes hard. Terry felt stung.
"Melanie, despite what you think, I care what happens to you. I want things to work out." His gentle tone made her feel better, like she wasn't so alone anymore. "So he needs antibiotics," he continued, getting back on topic.
"Yeah, lots of them. And without health insurance it's too expensive. I thought, if only I could get enough money to buy a month's worth - maybe Jack would be well enough to get another job. And that's when you found me," she ended, glancing up at the Bat. Terry's mind raced, trying to find a way to help without blowing his cover. He's Batman, not St. Vincent de Paul. Finally he straightened and spoke.
"Just hang in for one more night. Things will turn around very soon." He turned and opened his wings before adding, "By the way - your friend down there? He gets off on choking his girlfriends. Been on his tail this week, and I'm getting him tonight. He's not the only creep out here, so go home." With that, he left.
Melanie collected her coat on the way home. She made her way up the cracked stoop, past a woman who staked out the warm corner adjacent the door for the night. That'll be me soon, Melanie thought grimly, who ever guessed this would be my future. Up the narrow stairwell and down a poorly lit hall was Melanie and Jack's "home". This was one of many weekly rental motels in Old Gotham, whose usual customers were homeless people who somehow scraped together enough money to afford a smelly mattress and four walls for seven days. After Jack lost his job, they couldn't afford their old apartment. They were evicted, and spent the returned deposit on food and medicine. Without a security deposit, the Roseland Motel was the best they could do.
Jack was asleep when she entered their room. She took the napkin out of her pocket and unwrapped a handful of cold french fries as she knelt by the bed. Jack rolled over to face her.
"You were out pretty long, Mel," he yawned. "I was starting to worry."
"I just saw someone I knew, and I guess we lost track of time," she said softly, "here, eat." She watched her brother pick at the shriveled fries in silence for a while, wondering what the next day would bring.