Tut the Magnificent…
Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.
Prologue and Part I...
Four years previous…
The tall dark-skinned woman in jeans not exactly fitting and loose yellow blouse emerged slowly from the little car she'd reluctantly pulled over to the side of the (reasonably) main street of Hamilton, Gotham State. A few bystanders briefly eyeing her from the sidewalk while keeping back from the scene.
"Hands where we can see 'em!" a young female police officer, gun drawn, her male partner just exiting their car to join her, commanded.
"It's cool…" the woman raised her hands. "What's goin' on, sister?" she eyed the policewoman, rather lovely if professional-looking, hair tightly bunned, steady gaze on her with gun held firmly.
All business this one, Daneil reflected.
"Turn around, hands on the car!" the policewoman commanded.
"Or what, you shoot me, sister?" Daneil asked, but compiled, turning and putting hands on the car.
"Just do it!" the officer insisted, her companion now moving to Daneil and beginning to frisk her…
"Hey! What'd I do?! I wasn't speedin'…"
"She's unarmed. Daneil Moura Freedmont, you are under arrest." The male officer informed her. "You have the right to remain silent…" he began, cuffing her hands behind her back as he did so.
"Fuck that shit!" Daneil fumed, twisting a bit. "You're hurtin' me. I don't know who that bitch is, look at my license…"
"Do not move!" the policewoman commanded sternly, maintaining her position and aim, while speaking periodically into her radio.
"Come on, man…" Daneil tried again. "Just look at…"
"Turn around." The male officer ordered, she turning to face him.
Not bad…She gave him a bit of a smile, then glared. "You got the wrong girl, bro. Come on, look at my license."
"You're under arrest, Ms. Freedmont..." the policewoman noted. "I've called it, Sid." She addressed the male policeman who nodded. "Where's the license?" she addressed Daneil who considered…
If they believed it or got distracted…Might just be a chance…
"In my wallet, in the car…I was gettin' it."
"Stolen, with the car." The policewoman, calmly. "Ok, put her in, Sid and I'll take a look. Yes, subject is secured…" she addressed the phone in answer to a query.
"In…Ma'am." Sid had led Daneil to the police car, opening the rear passenger door.
"This is so much shit…" Daneil fumed. "I'll sue your asses off! Police brutality!" But went in, sitting…
"Carrie Maxwell, the owner…" the policewoman had emerged from the car, holding license. "You took a nice photo, 'Ms. Maxwell', you look twenty pounds lighter and at least five years younger."
"Rude shit to boot…" Daneil glared, with reason given she was in fact only a year older than the actual licensee. "That's me, Ms. Maxwell…" emphasis on the "Ms.".
"First name?" the officer asked.
"Carrie, like you said…"
"That's Ms. Maxwell's middle name, 'Deborah'…" smile. "Come on, lets get her in, Sid. They'll take care of the vehicle."
"Fuckin' blue oreo shits…" Daneil glared. "What are you tryin' to prove?"
Damn…Still, if I can make it out of Gotham State…I can handle Aunt and Uncle Tom police here.
…..
The Hamilton County Women's Jail, in Hamilton, Gotham State.
Daneil in cuffs, seated grimly at desk side.
"Daneil Freedmont, convicted on two counts of murder, three counts armed robbery, escaped Gotham State Penitentiary two days ago, stole a vehicle and clothing, refused initial command to halt, attempted to flee scene." The standing policewoman who'd partnered in Daneil's arrest made a summary to another officer at desk entering information into a computer. "You're a local girl, I see…At least you were born here." The officer entering data noted.
"Like I would be born in this shithole?" glare.
"Ok…Lets get fingerprints and…"
"I'm not this Freedmont bitch!" Daneil tried again. "I wanna lawyer!"
"Quiet." The policewoman, calmly. "If you're not Ms. Freedmont, you oughta be glad to do prints and clear yourself."
"I wanna lawyer…I won't do a thing till I get one." grim tone. She looked around the large jail office, a number of young and a couple of older women at desks as well.
"Put your palm down on that pad." The desk officer commanded.
"Sh…it…I got rights." Daneil tried, but finally complied.
"I said I'll pay the ticket…" a young blonde woman at a desk nearby. "Come on, I was just speeding…I'm in a hurry to get to Gotham City."
"That's nice…I can guess why Ms. Dikas." the policeman taking her info nodded. "But we'll need to process you first…Just follow the officer down the hall."
"If you Goddamn know who I am…My husband will have your balls cut off and my father'll fuckin' put your kids' heads on poles!" the woman cried as she was ordered to stand up by the other officer, a tall red-haired woman.
"When and if he gets out of Gotham State Pen, I doubt your father'll be doing much besides slurping mush in a home." The red-headed officer noted wryly.
"Goddamn you #$( !…I wanna lawyer. I want my husband's lawyer!" the young woman, well-dressed, Daneil noted, eyeing her, insisted as she was led out. But her attention caught by the red-head.
Where the fuck…? Did she bust me once in Gotham? I know I know her from somewhere…
"Just come along and you'll be done in a few minutes, Miss." The other officer assigned to escort Ms. Dikas told her quietly.
"Hey? Isn't that the Tambino broad? Carlo Tambino's daughter?" Daneil peered. "Yeah, she married Dikas, the guy who ran the girls around here…So they say." She added, glancing to the policewoman who'd helped arrest and was now processing her. "Jesus, you fucks are screwed when he finds out about this craps—t." she noted. "That dude and her man Dikas don't fool around, even if Dad is in Gotham Pen. What? Mob princesses don't rate special treatment with you, Aunt Tom?" Daneil addressed the policewoman who did not respond as the young blonde, still complaining was led down the hall, two other young women, one a rather tackily dressed Asian and the other a young black woman, barely out of her teens, also being led down.
Daneil frowning and looking back at the policewoman…
Half-assed operation, they got…Gotham County could do this in…She looked at the policewoman who'd pushed up her sunglasses to read and fill out a form on clipboard.
Nah…
It couldn't be…
She glanced at the officer's name tag for the first time…Should've got that right out and…
Lucretia? Brooks?
The last name's wrong but…
Lucretia?
"Lucretia?" she addressed the policewoman. "You're Lucretia Sinclair?"
The policewoman looked over, eyeing her coolly. "I was…I'm married now…Brooks."
"I know you…You were at Gotham State when I got there in 2012…" Daneil stared. "You were in for…"
Ah, fuck…Sigh. Still…She eyed the policewoman who gave her an arch look.
"It's a match…" the desk officer eyed his screen. "Ms. Freedmont? Care to correct the name you gave us?"
"Fuck you…" Daneil informed him. Turning back to the policewoman…
"Jesus, how could you be Lucretia? She died, they said…OD. And she was in for murder…" stare.
"I got an offer I couldn't refuse and I took it." Lucretia smiled briefly, her face lighting up.
She's beautiful and the other cops don't seem to even care about what I'm sayin' about her…Daneil stared. Lucretia wasn't bad, but this one's forty pounds lighter and…
"What happened to your scar, girl? And your face has changed some…" she asked.
"I got help and I changed my life." Lucretia shrugged, then smiled. "Worked out pretty well…" careful stare. "It could for you too, Daneil."
"Fu…ck…They don't put cons in the police academy, even if you got paroled and you were in for murder. How could you get out and get here?" narrow stare.
Lucretia put up a hand… "I had a few rules bent to give me a new start. Now…Lets get the business end settled here, then maybe we can chat a bit."
"Is this a scam? This isn't a jail…" Daneil looked around…
"It's a jail…Officially. But now more a sort of rehab center…" Lucretia smiled. "Now shut up…Sister, and lets finish and I'll take you where we can talk."
"They said Ma Parker once ran a crime gang in the Gotham Pen…" Daneil eyed her.
"Afraid not, Daneil…We're very much on the side of law and order…" Lucretia smiled. "And yeah, I'm a real cop and proud to be one, thanks be to Tut."
"Tut?" Daneil stared. "What the fuck is…Tut?"
…..
And a full thirteen years earlier…
Hamilton, Gotham…Just north of Gotham City, upstate along the Gotham River.
Once a fairly prosperous middle-and-working class community, largely black and some Asian and poorer European immigrant population. Now, thanks to decades of largely drug-related crime and the resulting economic collapse, the gangs of Gotham finding it a secure haven free from Gotham's already strained justice and police resources, and an overwhelmed and largely corrupted city government, a near hell-hole of misery and suffering, whose largely terrorized, hapless citizens where not corrupted or addicted were too fearful of the local gangs and their powerful Gotham backers to do much more than flee when possible or try to hide in their homes, living their lives in whatever bubbles of vague and transitory safety and security they could create. Those attempting to defy the crime lords or simply trying to improve quality of life often finding themselves the targets of vicious and devastating intimidation, even by those who should have been their protectors, an almost completely corrupted police force. The physical signs of the devastation apparent not only in abandoned, run-down buildings and homes but in the fearful faces of citizens as they emerged to try to live their exterior lives, and above all in the numb, wasted faces of the un- or barely- employed, the many addicts, many homeless, many well on that road…
Below them, on the river, the great and gleaming and uncaring City of Gotham…Its massive towers soaring coldly above the Hamilton skyline, its people unwilling for the most part to concern themselves with the problems of battered, betrayed Hamilton except when its misery spilled over to cause them a moment or two of discomfort. Gotham has its own problems…Even if it has enormous resources and even, its own hero. Now and then, the occasional state-wide candidate makes his or her whistle stop, offers vague promises of reform and action, and swiftly vanishes, never to return and eager to escape, including a few of Hamilton's own who've through fair or foul means managed to escape their home town.
But in the few and diminishing bubbles of security and safety, hope continues to live on…The hope of some that one day the state and federal governments will act, of others, that a mix of old and savvy and new and well-connected residents will come together, determined to bring new opportunities, see Hamilton freed of crime and suffering, still others hope that Gotham, somewhat freed of its own burdens, will bestow its grace upon its desperate brother in need, and some, that Gotham's hero, the vigilante who battled crime to a standstill and gave new hope to help a great city reclaim its soul, will find himself with a bit of time to take pity on the suffering just outside his favored home.
Those varied hopes nowhere reflected better in the pair walking down the rather desolate street before them…Professor Archibald Tuthill, distinguished historian and author, specialty Egyptology and more generally, African/Near East history, a rather grey-haired man in his seventies whose twinkling eyes and sparkling manner belied his strikingly erect and disciplined form, a product of his naval service, and his nine-year old grandson, Henry, being taken to his rather bleak home by his hero and best friend, his grandfather, the famed success story of the family. A grandfather who doted on his clearly brilliant and talented grandson…And feared for him, with justified anxiety.
"So Cleopatra really wasn't black? Mom says…"
"Your mother doesn't know a thing about history, boy." The Professor sighed. "Queen Cleopatra was a Ptolemy, a descendant of one of Alexander the Great's finest generals. The smartest of them all, wise enough not to bid for the whole crumbling empire, just Egypt, the richest piece of the pie. No, she was Macedonian, maybe a touch of Egyptian worked in there somewhere in the woodpile…Who were the real black kings of Egypt, Henry?" he paused, eyeing the boy.
"The Kushites." Henry replied.
"There you go…The true black pharaohs. Who conquered and restored Egypt to greatness. We don't need desperate lies, Henry. We've enough greatness in our history if people will do the work of digging it out. The great lost civilizations are there to study and learn from. The great learning center, Timbuktu, The Empire of Great Mali…Ethiopia…And we played a role in Egypt…And Rome…And Byzantium."
"I still like Tut, Grandpa…" smile.
"He was African if not black." Nod. "And a great leader who rallied his people, though he died too young…"
"Tut…It's like our name. Maybe we're descended from him."
The Professor sighed…But eyes twinkled. "Maybe…Nothing's impossible. In any case you could be the leader he wanted to be, Henry. If you try hard enough. How's school?"
"Good. I like biology the most, though history's ok."
"'Ok'?" mock frown.
"Grandpa…"
"Well, Biotech is the wave of the future, they say. But don't forget History, Henry…Remember, those who forget History…"
"..Are condemned to repeat it." Henry nodded.
"Good. So…School is good, eh? But it's not the Academy you're going to these days, is it?"
Henry, nervous look…
"Don't lie for her, boy." Sigh. "Your mother is no damned good. I've known it for years. It's not her fault, entirely." He shook head. "My little girl died years ago when she was swallowed up…And that's my fault. I was hell-bent on making my way in the field, whatever it cost and I didn't keep watch on her then as I should've, once she left us. Nor have I done my duty by you and Pam, now. Henry…For the love of God, I'd rather see you and your sister dead then swallowed up like your mama. Don't hate her, but you and your sister have got to get away from her. And that sob she's living with now. Jack, isn't it?"
"Jack…" nervous nod.
"I never should have let her keep you two after she got out…But I'd hoped, with that man gone for good, having you to care for... And she did seem…" sigh. "But she fooled me…Or to be honest, I let her fool me, so I could keep focusing on my work. And after your grandma died, I couldn't think straight and I couldn't see clear how I could care for the two of you. But she taking you out of the Academy and I know why…To smoke that tuition money…Is the last straw. Boy, do you want to stay with me?"
"Grandpa…" Henry gasped, pushing glasses up nose. "Yes." He paused. "But I'm scared for Mama. She's so sick and Jack hurts her, sometimes. When she doesn't have money for him…"
"I can imagine…" sigh. "This is my fault, Henry. I will put it right, starting tonight. You and your sister are coming home with me, to stay. I'll do what I can for your mother, but you and Pam are staying with me."
"Please…" Henry breathed. "Please, grandpa…I hate it there. And Pammy is scared of Jack…"
"Lord…" grimace. "Has he hurt her? Henry?"
"I don't think so, grandpa. But he scares her."
"That ends tonight." Grim look… "If I have to put the bastard in prison and Anna with him…Or worse…Seeing his grandson's frightened face he calmed.
"I won't do that, Henry. So long as she lets you both go." They continued on.
"So...Biology, eh?" sigh.
"I like it, Grandpa. I like History too but… And what I really like is Neurobiology."
"Well, a man must follow his heart." Nod. "And it's an exciting field these days."
"They're making people better…" Henry, eagerly. "Fixing the brain…"
"Is that so?" smile. "Boy, you hoping to help your mother?"
"Yes." Firm nod. "I want to make her well again."
"I see…You know cures like that, and learning to make them takes years."
"I'll work hard, Grandpa. I want to help Mama. She's not really bad. She just needs help."
"A boy should love and forgive his mother." Sigh. "But Henry, you have to understand that you may not be able to help her. The best you and Pam may be able to do is to get and stay away from her. You do understand that I love my daughter but I can't help her? And you may have to be strong enough not to let her pull you and Pam down."
"I won't, Grandpa. But I'll try to help her when I can. Someday. Maybe if we could get the bad people to leave…Then she couldn't get that stuff so easy. And Jack would have to go with them."
"Jack is going…I can promise you that, Henry. At least out of your and Pam's lives. As for your mother, that's up to her."
"My friend Tim says the Bat chased them out of Gotham, the bad ones…" Henry noted. "Maybe he'd come here and chase them away. Maybe if you asked him, Grandpa?"
"The Bat…Well, he's a vigilante, Henry. One can't be sure what his motives are. What we need are decent, clean cops and a mayor and city council with guts. And people not afraid to back them up…We had a little of that, once but then it all went south…"
"If you spoke to him, Grandpa. I think he'd come." Henry insisted.
"Batman protects Gotham…I don't say he doesn't care about all the people, heck he might be black or Hispanic for all anyone knows, but his interest is strictly Gotham. But, if he'll ever listen, I'll gladly ask him, Henry. Anyway, after tonight, you and Pam will be living with me. You'll go back to the Academy and you'll go into Neurobiology or wherever your fate and hard work takes you. Pam too. I know she's big on fashion…" smile.
"She likes lots of things. She told me she'd like to be a lawyer one day." The boy noted as they turned the corner to his street.
"A lawyer? Impressive…" Professor Tuthill did a mock-Darth Vader tone. "Maybe she's the one who got my genes on history?" grin.
"She's smart…" Henry nodded. "You'll take us away, her and me? Tonight?"
"I'll tell your mama tonight, we may have to argue it out in court. But I will get you two away from her. I have a few friends who can help and God knows your mother's left a sad trail."
They approached a house, a few lights on…Music blaring from one room.
A young, pretty girl seated with rather wistful look, in an outfit of tight blouse and jeans a bit adult for her, one that made the Professor, her grandfather, frown…
"Nerdoff!" she called to Henry who beamed.
"Pam!" he waved.
"Grandpa…" she eyed Professor Tuthill who nodded to her.
"Pamela. What are you wearing, child?"
"Just my stuff…Mama's not feeling well so I took what was dry. Jack said it was ok."
"Did he…?" frown. "Where is your mother?"
"She's lyin' down…Where'd you go, Henry?"
"Grandpa took me to the museum in Gotham…Then we went to dinner…"
"I'm sorry you couldn't come, Pam." The Professor eyed her.
"I had to take Mama shoppin' I told you…" she frowned. "Mama was too sick to go alone, so Jack said I should."
"Well, next time…" the Professor nodded kindly. "I need to see your mother for a moment, she's alone?"
"Yeah…Jack just left to go to the store." Shrug.
"Pam…" Henry, unable to contain his excitement… "We're gonna go live with Grandpa, in his house."
She stared... "What the shit..?"
"Don't swear, girl." Professor Tuthill frowned. "You shouldn't need to learn to speak like a lady."
"Sorry…" offhand wave… "Mama's sick, we can't go. And she won't let us."
"Your mother's very sick but you can't help her." The Professor noted, firmly. "But you and Henry are going to come live with me."
"No…" Pam shook head. "We need to stay with Mama, she needs us. Jack…"
"Jack's never going to bother you and if your mother will listen, her, ever again." The Professor, grimly. "I'll be just a minute…Henry, you and Pam wait here." He entered the house and turning on a light, went up the front stairs.
"We can't leave Mama…Jack'll hurt her." Pam shook head. "He'll be f-ing pissed if I go."
"You can't stay here, Pam." Henry, anxiously.
"Did you tell Grandpa?" she eyed him.
"I told him you were afraid of him."
"Shit…It's none of his business…"
"He wants to…" Sounds of argument now from above…A shout…A vague stream of epithets, fading volume.
"Anne." The Professor's voice, firm and strong.
"We have to go, Pam." Henry insisted. "We can get Mama later. But we have to go now. Jack wants to put you on the street…" he paused. "Or he'll hurt you till he kills you."
"I can take care of myself, Henry." She frowned. "I don't need you or that old man."
"Did you…?" he eyed her. "Pam?" Staring at her eyes… "You did…"
"Leave me alone!" she got up and went into the house.
Halting as Professor Tuthill came down the stairs…Calm manner. "Pam, you and Henry get some clothes, we're leaving. I've called a cab."
"I'm not going anywhere." She frowned. "Mama needs me."
"Pam…" Henry pleaded. "Grandpa, she's gotta go with us."
"She will. Pamela…" the Professor sternly. Eyeing her face keenly… "Good God, child? Are you high?"
"None of your business…" she grimaced, pulling back. "Take the nerdoff and get outta here. I've gotta stay with Mama."
"That's right!" cry from the top of the stairs… "Pammy! Don't you leave your mama alone!"
"Goddamn you, Anne! Did you feed this child drugs?!" the Professor cried.
"Jack gave her them…" Henry, quickly. "He wants to put her out on the street."
"Jesus…F-off, the two of you!" Pam glared.
"Get some clothes and do it now." Professor Tuthill, grimly. "Henry, get Pam something decent to wear and your own things and we're going. Anne, I'm taking both of them and if you do anything to get them back I'm going to have you charged. I mean it this time!" He called up the stairs.
"Come on, Pam. We've got to go." Henry whispered to the glaring Pamela.
"Babies! Don't leave me! Don't leave your mother! I'm sick!" Anne's voice from above. "Pam? Jackie'll kill me if you're gone!"
"Anne. If you really believe that, put some clothes on and come with us. You can stay tonight and then…" Tuthill, sighing.
"You're not stickin' me in some hospital! Or jail! I know you, old fucker!" scream.
"Henry…" the Professor waved him to the stairs. "Get the things and we'll go."
"No." Pam firmly. "I can't go…"
"Child, you've got to go, if I have to call in the police to make you go." Professor Tuthill insisted.
Henry, climbing the stairs, facing the haggard if still young face of his mother, Anne Tuthill…
"You want to leave me…You little bastard…That's what you are…A little bastard…" Anne glared at him as he passed, then stroked him briefly. "Don't leave Mama, honey…Please."
Briefly grabbing at jeans and a reasonably respectable blouse in Pam's room, Henry passed on to his where he quickly grabbed a bookbag and stuffed in Pam's clothes and a few of his own, along with some school books and his most precious possession, a museum edition profile of the life of young Prince and Pharaoh Tutankhamun, signed by his grandfather's colleague, the author, a fellow Egyptologist.
He hurried out and passed his mother, now on cell phone, speaking frantically…
Jack…He realized.
He hurried down…
"Grandpa…Mama's called Jack. We'd better…" He looked round.
"Grandpa!" he called.
"Henry…" Professor Tuthill stumbled back from the hallway, his chest now covered in blood, gasping…Clutching the large knife he'd just pulled out of himself…Collapsing onto the floor, as Henry stared.
"Henry…" Pam gasped, emerging from the hallway darkness, hands outstretched. "I just wanted him to go…" she pleaded.
He backed away in horror…And ran out into the night…Passing a car that pulled to the curb.
"Hey, you little fuck!" Jack's voice reaching him as he ran on…
Grandpa, Grandpa…He murmured as he ran…
….
Present day Gotham…
"Mr. Wayne…Danielle Dane, Greater Gotham News 6…" The tall smiling man turned to eye the equally tall, lithe figure addressing him.
"Yes?" he regarded the said Ms. Dane, an increasingly well-known face in Gotham and Greater Gotham media.
A rather lovely if currently quite determined face, Bruce Wayne couldn't help noting to himself. Her deep brown eyes in set in a glowing dark-skin face, framed by loose curls.
She for her part not bowled over by what she was seeing in the reasonably handsome, rather better than expectedly well-built Wayne…Must be nice to have a personal gym in several homes and apartments, a professional club, and trainers, not trainer…She thought briefly…But pleased by his genial manner.
Either Wayne's not quite the recluse she'd been told of or he's had a good day with the Crime Commission…
"Thanks…" she acknowledged his gracious pausing for her question. "Were you pleased with today's hearing of the Commission?"
"I was." Firm nod. "Gotham's had a very good year in terms of crime reduction. I think we owe a huge debt of gratitude to Commissioner Gordon's efforts along with the entire police force, the Mayor, and the Civic Commission. Gotham's made what I think is a lasting dent in crime, particularly violent crime."
"With of course due credit to your commission and the efforts of the Wayne Foundation…" she noted.
"We're just civilian advisers…Volunteers and there are many of us, from all walks of life…We've tried to help. I know some of us have helped, I hope I'm one among them."
"But you are a leading voice on the Commission and your Foundation has funded several key initiatives…"
"I'm one among many…And while I don't deny funding helps…The Wayne Foundation is just one of a number of nonprofit funding agencies. It's the men and women who've come up with these new initiatives to combat dangerous crime while reducing unnecessary and unfair sentences for lower end crime and things, I at least, can't consider crimes and pushed new economic incentives to curb poverty and provide better paying jobs at livable wages that have done the real work…And above all those who've been out on the streets as law enforcement, social workers, teachers, new entrepreneurs."
"And your own special friend, Batman." She suggested.
"Batman is hardly my friend but I do know him slightly. Perhaps as much as Commissioner Gordon or the Mayor. And yes, he's been a great help and something of an inspiration. But, although he has been deputized…He is a vigilante…And I like to think that he as well as I and most citizens hope the day is coming when we don't need a man in a cape to help defend this city." Stern gaze.
"Really?" she moved a hair closer… He smelling her perfume, a modest, yet faintly alluring scent…
Bruce…He cautioned himself…Smiling again.
"You think the time has come for Batman to step out of the shadows? Reveal himself to us?"
"No. Not necessarily. I wouldn't endanger the man or any family he may have… But…It might be near the time for him to retire and hang up his cape. Do whatever it is he does in his real life. And leave law enforcement to the professionals. I hope he doesn't take that the wrong way, we're all grateful for his efforts and the risks he's taken. But I hope he'll return to his own life, perhaps continue to assist as a citizen…In fact I hope he'd be pleased to feel his efforts have helped to make this the time to do so." Wayne nodded. "Or at least, it soon will be."
"There are other cities and areas that need help…Even here in Gotham State." Ms. Dane noted.
"There are, for certain. And I hope Gotham will be able to reach out to them…" he nodded.
"But not Batman?" she eyed him.
"That's his decision…And those other communities…But again I hope, personally, the day is coming when he won't need to wear a mask and act outside our regular law enforcement. Thank you."
"Thank you, Mr. Wayne." She nodded, warm smile, turning back to face her cameraman. "Bruce Wayne, giving us a few words on the work of Gotham City's Crime Commission, following the release of this quarter's crime statistics for the City. Good news for the vast majority of us…And an intriguing notion that our famed mysterious, if deputized, vigilante, Batman, might soon be able to hang up cape and cowl and resume whatever life he's led as a citizen of Gotham. Danielle Dane, Greater Gotham News."
"And that's…Not exactly world-shaking but fine." The lanky, long-haired, blonde cameraman, Woody James sighed, shrugging.
"Come on…" Danielle mock-frowned at him. "There's a little good news to report. It doesn't always have to be gloom and doom, Woodman."
"Sure…" shrug. "But the doom and the gloom make the 11 o'clock slot. This won't make 6am."
"Stanley'll put it on. Maybe not right at 11 but…" she smiled.
"Nice to have such a friend in our news producer…" Woody grinned.
"Hey…" she mock-glared. "Stanley is just that."
"But he'd like to be so much more…" teasing tone.
"So would they all…" she breathed, laughing. "Don't be mean, Woodman. Stanley's always been a gentleman and he listens. I can tell you that's a little rare…"
"He's a prince, so long as he puts us on in a decent time slot. That was a nice bit about Batman…Hang up his cowl?"
"Wayne suggested it…" she shrugged. "And maybe he's right. The caped one might be looking a bit ridiculous in a city that doesn't need fantasy heroes but more real, down-to-earth ones."
"Like Bruce Wayne?" smile.
"He's done his share…Sorry if I admire a capitalist stooge, Herr Marx." She grinned.
"As they go, he's not the worst…And I'm a Social Revolutionary, not a Marxist." Smile.
"Who, if he wants to eat, needs to get this film in…" she noted. "I'd like to give you a hand with the editing again…I promise not to muck it up."
"Danielle Dane gets behind the camera as well as in front…" he grinned.
"I just like to know how it all works…Don't wanna be just a bubble-headed moron on camera." She noted.
"You're already getting a good handle on it all. But you're welcome to join me and the techno geeks if you buy pizza for dinner."
"Done. " she nodded. Ooops… "Hold that thought a mo…Phone…" she pulled out cell. "Dane here. What? Oh…Hello…." She syed the intrigued James. Bruce…Wayne…She mouthed.
Really?
"…I'm flattered. Especially that you went to the trouble of getting my number…And got it so quickly. It's unlisted, you know? No…Unless you are some sort of pervert." Smile.
He is…James mouthed. "But go out with him anyway. You might get something spicy."
"No, I hope not too." She chuckled into the phone. "No, not quite a complete ass. Look, I would love to talk to you about the Commission but I'd want to make it strictly…Right, business. Ok. Well, sure I know it…Eight. Tell me you didn't get my home address?" she told the phone.
Pervert…Big time…Woody mouthed. "But get the story."
Quiet…She mouthed in reply. "Good, I'll meet you there. Ok, then…Eight at VanDyck's. Ok. Thanks." She hung up.
Whoa…James grinned. "Dinner and God knows what with Gotham's most legible when not burning down his own house, playboy?"
"A drink and an interview…Shut up." She mock-frowned. "Come on, lets get that bit set up with the guys so I can go home and change."
"Sure you don't wanna go home now and primp up for a few hours…?" he ducked as she threw her mike at him, holding cord to keep it from striking him or the ground.
"Shoo you." She grinned. "Woody, don't make a deal of this would ya?" she asked. "Wayne might really have something to say and I don't wanna get a rep. You know what kind…" sigh.
"A rep in our business…Well, yours, not mine, thank God…Is standard, part of the entry fee, Beautiful."
"I hope not." She frowned. "Woody, don't say that."
He sighed at her earnest look. God, kid…For someone who's been in the business awhile. With your brain. And looks the way you do. You are just an innocent lamb…
Still, I prefer you this way…Only…God …May you never have to learn things the hard way.
…
"Guess I made a complete ass of myself there, huh Alfred?" Wayne addressed his chauffeur, butler, manager, and friend, Alfred as they sat in his limo, Alfred driving carefully along the wet street toward the interstate out of town.
"Afraid so, Master Bruce." Alfred nodded. "But that's all part of the game, I always understood. And sometimes the lady appreciates the willingness to endure humiliation."
"Lets hope so." Wayne grinned. "Alfred?" he hesitated.
"What did you think about what I said…About Batman…?"
"'Hanging up his cowl'? You mean, sir?"
"Yeah…What did you think?"
Long sigh. "I've always hoped the day would come when you could do so, Master Bruce." Alfred, voice steady… "But I don't think the day has quite come, much as we both might earnestly wish it. I am glad, though…" pause.
"That I can talk about it, myself?" Wayne finished. "Alfred, I can and one day I hope to. I could actually feel the day coming today. No big dramatic victory to mark it…Just a feeling things are finally, slowly coming to where they should be…"
"That would be a grand day, sir. I hope to see it." Wan smile.
"Alfred?" stare.
"Not referring to my condition, sir. Which remains quite good, thanks to Dr. Fries' cure, I assure you." Pause. "It's just I fear your quest to put all things right may well not end with peace in Gotham City. You're too much your father's son, I fear. And that good friend of mine wouldn't settle for achieving peace in one city. I heard the young lady." He sighed.
"She's right. There are other places that need help, Alfred."
"But you can't help all of them, dear boy. Some must find their own help, outside of what you might be able to do for them as Bruce Wayne…" sound of buzzing from Wayne's back seat laptop.
"Wayne…Henry?" beam. "Alfred? It's Henry."
"Please give young Dr. Tuthill my best, sir." Alfred called back, raising a transparent but sound-proof piece between his front area and Wayne in the rear.
"Hello, the competition…" Wayne, cheerily as the face of young Henry Tuthill in glasses and casual round-collared red shirt beamed at him from his screen.
"Bruce, hi!"
"How are things at Jensen, Henry? I hear some great things."
"We're moving…Don't forget to buy our stock." Grin.
"The competition? Never…" chuckle. "How's the dragon girl?"
"She's really not that bad, Bruce." Reproving look. "But we're getting on ok. She's still giving me my head."
"She ought to. Tell her the competition says so." Bruce smiled. "How are things at home? How's Pam?"
"She's well. Mom's mom but not bad these days. Alfred ok? Mr. Gordon?"
"Very good, both. As is Jim's family. So? This about Hamilton's Day?"
"Just wanted to remind you." Smile. "Everyone's looking forward to seeing the Man, you know."
"Hardly but I'll be there. So, not prying into the competition's secrets but what's new on your horizon, Henry? Anything good?"
"I'm continuing the neural regeneration work. We might be on to a few things. Can't say more."
"Not to your chief competitor, even if you've left him in the dust long ago. It sounds great, Henry."
"I'll try to show you a little when you come by, if we can sneak off to Jensen." Henry smiled. "Hopefully I can still impress my old boss a bit."
"You've never failed to yet." Smile. "I'm looking forward to the celebration, Henry. It'll be great to see you and your folks again. And I keep hearing good things about Hamilton these days."
"Well…Things are better." He nodded. "We may not have Batman, but we had his good buddy, Bruce Wayne…Maybe that's all we really needed."
"You did it, Henry…You and the folks there. I just seeded a few trees and made a little money in the process."
"Well, we don't forget our friends, Bruce." Henry, fondly. "We've had too few of them over the years to forget them. Everyone'll be very pleased to see you."
"I won't fail them." Wayne nodded. "Give my best to Pam and your other folks. And to Jennifer J, if she really is behaving herself."
"I will, Bruce. Thanks." The screen went blank.
"You never do." Henry nodded to the laptop at his desk.
"So Bruce Wayne is coming? Sir?" the voice of a woman standing next to his desk.
"Certainly. Bruce never lets us down. So, are these the new production figures?" he eyed a screen on which said figures were displayed.
"Yes, Henry. Growth rates have been increased by twenty-five percent and we now have 110% capacity for the city population."
"That's good. But if we're to expand we'll need to push the growth rate further. We can't be short when we attempt expansion, we can't count on cover once we spread out from the city, Jen."
"No…My Lord." Jen…Jennifer Jensen, the lovely young owner of Jensen Biotech, petite but clearly quite a marked character, now perhaps even lovelier if rather less arrogant than her fame or better, infamy, had once claimed, nodded.
"You're heading for the international board meeting?"
"Yes, my Lord. In Paris."
"Great. Well, you have your agenda with them. Have a fine time…Get in some sight-seeing, I mean if you'd like to…"
"Yes, Lord. I was never one for sightseeing, my Lord. But if you will it…"
"No, just try to enjoy yourself. Without hurting anyone else, please?" he cautioned. "Not meaning to offend..."
"Never, sir. I could be awful at times, it's true. I did like collecting art…On other trips..." she hesitantly noted. "But my greatest joy now…Oh, Tut…"
"By all means…Collect away." He noted, hastily cutting off her panegyric. "I mean, within reason."
"Yes, Lord." Nod.
"And maybe try doing something new. Maybe just a little sightseeing, see if you like it." He smiled.
"I live to serve, Lord." She nodded.
"No…I mean if you like it, Jen. And maybe see if you find someone nice…?"
"Lord?"
"I mean…You might wanna have a fling? Jennifer Jensen was famous that way, you know…You remember?"
"Yes, Lord." Nod. "Shall I have sex with someone while in Paris?"
He sighed. "Only if you'd like to , Jen…And if he or she likes you. Ok?"
"Yes, Lord."
"And remember to perk up a little…Be Jennifer…Maybe a less nasty, more socially concerned, Jennifer, though?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Ok, you'd better get home and get a good night's sleep. And wake up as independent Jen, much as you can, right?"
"Yes, my Lord." Bow…Pause…
"Yes?" he eyed her.
"If I may…Regards Wayne…"
"No. Certainly not." Henry frowned. "Don't speak or think of it again, Jen."
"No…I will never speak or think of it again, my Lord Tut." She bowed and left the office.
He clicked mouse to open a screen window.
"Hello…" the beaming young woman stared out from the screen. "My name is Danielle Freedmont. And I want to talk to you about how I turned my life around, with the help of the Tut Society…"