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.
Part II...
Thirteen years previous, the night of Professor Tuthill's murder…
A weary, rather sodden figure emerged from a heavily forested area just off Gotham State Parkway…Bruce Wayne, in somewhat casual, if still clearly expensive and elegant, clothes, nursing an injured arm, trying as best he could to find a little shelter from the fairly steady rain in the last trees on the Parkway's edge. He carefully dialed a cell phone in the dark. Rain beading on the phone's screen…
"Alfred? Yes, I'm all right…" sigh. "Though I've got to say the Bookworm turned out to be a bit more challenging physically than I'd expected. He had a little arsenal of his own…Afraid the car took a couple of phosphorus bombs. No, I'm ok, the shielding protected me, just burned a little on my arm. No, he and his last men are dead, they went over a cliff, trying to outrun me. I'm afraid the Da Vinci manuscript went with them. No, we will never know if there was something to that code…" smile. "You ought to stop reading those novels, Alfred. Ow…" as he chuckled. "No, no…I'm ok. But I had to leave the car, there's some damage to the engine from the fire bombs. Camouflaged in the woods and secure, we'll have to have it picked up by the team later. So, I'm going to need a…You don't have to come out, Alfred. I just couldn't reach a…"
He turned at the sudden appearance of a small boy running past, clearly in tears and badly shaken…
"Hey…!" he called to the boy. "Hey, you can't go out on the Parkway here, son! Just a mo, Alfred!" he told the phone, hurrying after the boy.
"Kid! Wait! It's too…" his unformed warning verified immediately by the appearance of a large truck rushing past, barely dodging the boy who continued running, apparently not even noting his near brush with death.
"Kid!" Wayne hurried after, finally closing in. The boy suddenly turned, staring… "Get away!" he cried.
"Kid, you can't run on the Parkway like this. In this rain they can't see you, you'll get hurt."
The boy, breathing heavily now, clearly at the edge of his strength.
"Look, I'm waiting for a ride, I can take you home. Or get hold of someone or your own cab. Do you live round here?" he eyed the soaked, sodden clothes. Noting the blood on his shirt…
"Hamilton, I live back there…" the boy pointed.
"Kid, that's blood. Are you hurt?"
"No…No…" the boy shook head. "My grandpa…"
"Was he hurt? Is he in his car?" Wayne asked, carefully.
"He's dead…" the boy, trembling.
"Maybe not…We can get an ambulance." Wayne suggested. "Alfred? You still with me?" he pulled up the phone.
"He's gone…" the boy shook head. Trembling and weeping now…
"Alfred, we need an ambulance here. A boy's been hurt and his grandfather as well. Can you get them out here asap? Good. Yeah, I guess so…But I hate to drag you out here. Ok…Good. Thanks, Alfred." He closed the phone.
"My friend's got an ambulance coming and he's coming too. What's your name, son?" he eyed the shaking boy. "Here, my sweater's wet outside as well, but it's lined…" He pulled off sweater, leaving a white shirt which quickly soaked, putting it carefully on the boy who did not resist it being put on.
"You're getting soaked, sir."
"That's ok. I'll be fine. I'm Bruce, by the way."
"Henry…" the boy gasped. "Henry Tuthill…"
"Nice to meet you, Henry. Where is your grandfather? Is he down the road?"
"He…He's at the house." The boy shook head, swaying now.
"Ok, ok…" Bruce caught him as he collapsed. "We'll get help to him and see if we can do anything. It'll be ok, Henry."
Henry gasped as Bruce held him. "You better sit down." Bruce suggested, carefully lowering him.
"I'm sorry…" Henry breathed, gasping for air, pushing glasses back to try and get a better look at his rescuer as he sat on the ground.
"It's no trouble. I'm sorry for you. But lets see if anything can be done, ok? Can you tell me how far your house is?"
"Way…Back…There…" Henry, pointing back down the road. "Long way…I've been…Running…"
"So I saw, Henry. Henry, were you hurt?" Bruce asked.
"No…Grandpa…"
"Ok…I just wanted to be sure. We'd better wait here if it's a ways. Is there anyone near your house we could call? Someone who could check on your grandpa?"
"He's dead…" sigh, shake of head.
"Maybe…But I've found it's best to let a doctor decide that." Bruce eyed him. "So, anyone?"
"Mrs. Ray…She's a couple of houses down. My friend Tim's mom…I have the number…"
"Good, lets have it. I'll call her." Bruce nodded, opening phone. Dialing as the boy gave a number.
"Hello…Is this Mrs. Ray? Hi, I'm with Henry Tuthill here…Yes, the Tuthill boy…Ok, the police are there? Ok. No, the boy's fine. He's out here on the Parkway with me, my car broke down and I found him wandering out here. Yes? I'm Bruce Wayne. Yes." Slight sigh. "Thanks, but I've got an ambulance coming for Henry, we can bring it…Oh…I see. Alright. Are his parents? Ok, his mother…Right…Yes, I see. " Sigh. "Is there anyone else? Ok, well…Maybe the best thing is for me to have them bring him to Gotham General, check him over and call his sister or you later? Yeah…"
"Pam? Pam's ok?" Henry, anxiously. Catching himself from asking if the police had taken her…
"Ma'am? Henry wants to know if his sister…? She's ok." Bruce nodded to Henry. "I understand…Yeah, let me give you my number to give the police and the sister. And I'll try reaching the police myself. Thank you, Mrs. Ray. Yes? Sure…I'll see if he can talk… Henry? Do you want to tell Mrs. Ray anything?"
Henry, shaking head.
"I don't think he feels much like talking now, ma'am. But he's ok, just wet and shaken a bit, I think. I'll have the doctors check him out at the hospital. Sure. Thanks, Mrs. Ray, I appreciate it. I'll be in touch soon. Bye." He closed phone.
"Archibald Tuthill? Your grandpa?" he looked at Henry who nodded.
"I know him, a great teacher and writer."
"He is dead, isn't he?" Henry, looking up at Wayne.
"I'm afraid so, Henry. I'm truly sorry."
Henry, nodding, shaking…Suddenly weeping, stretching on the ground…
"The police have the man…" Bruce noted. "He didn't get away."
"The man?" Henry looked up. "They have a man?"
"You didn't see…What happened?"
"No…" pause. "Just Grandpa was bleeding…There was a knife…I ran…I…Ran…Away…"
"Probably the best thing you could've done, Henry. You couldn't have saved him. But your mother and sister are ok too. They got out…" Wayne paused. "I'm afraid the police decided to arrest your mother with the man and your sister's going with them, just for now. I'll see she gets to the hospital and we'll get her checked too, ok?"
Henry nervously staring, nodded… "Yeah. Yes, please…" he paused. "You're Bruce Wayne?"
"Afraid so…Yeah." Bruce nodded, smiling. "Not quite so impressive as my photos, huh?"
"No." Henry agreed. "Thanks."
"Sure." Nod, smile. As an ambulance siren's wail reached them.
"Here they come…" Wayne noted.
"Can you come with me?" Henry asked, anxiously.
"If they'll let me…Or I'll have my friend drive me to the hospital, right behind you."
"Ok…" Henry nodded. "Thank you."
"No problem."
"Were you hurt, Mr. Wayne?" Henry asked. "You seem kinda stiff on that arm."
"I got it a little burned…Accident with my car…Not bad but probably I should see a doc, too. So, convenient that we're heading for a hospital."
"Yeah." Henry nodded.
"You a historian, too? Like your grandfather?" Bruce asked.
"I like it but I wanna do Science…Neurobiology. I told…Grandpa…Tonight…"
"I'm sure you'll make him proud."
"I will." Henry nodded, standing up carefully, Wayne quietly helping him. As the ambulance now in sight, came over a hill, lights flashing.
….
Gotham General Hospital…
Emergency room…Staff hurrying about…
"Is the boy going to be alright?" Alfred, in still rather elegant sweater and slacks, raincoat carefully hung, asked Wayne as he stood in a curtairned-off room, by the gurney on which Wayne was trying to lie reasonably still.
"I guess so…He wasn't hurt except for the shock and the rain…"
"Poor boy…The police did apprehend the murderer?" Alfred, carefully.
"Looks like it. Some boyfriend of the mother…Drugs were involved." Bruce shook head. "God…I never thought Archie Tuthill had that in his family."
"Professor Tuthill worked his way up…I've read his biography, along with his books." Alfred noted.
"I guess…That poor kid, Alfred. And his sister…"
"The mother?"
"The police say she's pretty out of it. And has a record that stretches…" sigh. "Coming over in the ambulance, Henry told me Dr. Tuthill had been meaning to take him and his sister away, to live with him. I guess the boyfriend objected…" Wayne sighed.
"Dear God…" Alfred shook head. "What a waste…"
"I don't want to spread it about Alfred…" Bruce, lowering voice. "But the cop I spoke to said the sister was high as well. Seems the boyfriend was trying to get her hooked…So a neighbor told the cops, a lady I spoke to. The mother was pretty much incoherent. They caught the boyfriend fleeing the scene, blood on him."
"My God…" Alfred stared.
"As soon as things settle a bit, I'll see if I can get the girl to some safe treatment place nearby. I don't know if I can help the mother, she's likely to be charged for violation of parole as well as possession and accessory to murder. As for Henry…" he rubbed his face.
"Yes." Alfred nodded thoughtfully.
"What?" Wayne stared.
"Young Master Grayson's gone to continue his college career, his room's empty and so is the house. The boy needs a home." Alfred, simply. "As will the sister, but the boy is our concern now."
"I don't know…There may be other relatives…And I couldn't take a chance having someone around, I mean Dick knew the situation from the start…"
"Temporary, then. Until something permanent is worked out. We can see to that later…"
Wayne eyeing Alfred's unruffledly calm stare back…
That old English fox…Something told me he took the whole "hang up my cowl" thing too lightly.
"Alfred. I can't just walk off with a boy…" he noted.
"Therein we see the power of wealth, put to use in a good cause." Alfred smiled. "I took the liberty of setting up some calls on speeddial." He offered phone.
Wayne eyeing him, chuckling, taking phone, looking over screen… "Alfred. Where would I be without you?"
"I hate to think on it, Master Bruce." Smile.
"Hello, this is Bruce Wayne. Sorry to call so late…" Wayne began.
….
Present day Gotham…The Bar Room at VanDyck's… A fairly secluded booth…
"Oddball mix of old Dutch and modern…" Danielle Dane noted, looking about the room.
"I find it a bit comforting…Mixing the old and new…" Wayne, looking his image in suit, she noted to herself, smiled.
"True enough…" she agreed. "Though a bit clashy…" she regarded an old Dutch print of the colony of New Gotham above a strikingly minimalist wooden chair.
"The Dutch are very modern in style." Wayne, mock-solemn, eyes twinkling a bit as she regarded him with mock frown.
"And of course we're nowhere to be found…"
"Women and African-Americans…?" Wayne offered.
"I was going to say the Irish…" she grinned. "Sure and like O'bama, I'm part Gaelic."
"I hear it in the lilt…" Wayne nodded. An attentive waiter stopping by to ask if Mr. Wayne and Ms. Dane required another drink or anything else.
"Another glass of the same for me…" Wayne told him. "Miss Dane?"
"Mmmn…Not another glass but I'd like a cup of the chowder." Danielle eyed the menu.
"How about dinner?" Wayne suggested.
"Nah…Just need a little something…Thanks, that'll do me." Ms. Dane smiled to the waiter.
"Well, I'll take a burger…Medium well, lettuce and ketchup. I guess you'd best hold fries and make it a house salad. And I'll take a cup of the chowder, too. " he addressed the waiter who nodded and headed off. "Sorry, I'm a bit starved here. Couldn't stop for lunch."
"Please…" she smiled, putting up a hand. "I actually had a little pizza before I came, I was working with my camera crew, trying to learn the editing process."
"Really?" Bruce nodded. "So you like to get into the nuts and bolts…?"
"It's my career. I oughta know how it works." She shrugged, smiling. Her suit a businesslike black belied just a bit by her red turtlenecked dress with black belt.
"I think that's the best way. Thanks." He nodded to the waiter setting down wine glass and two cups of chowder.
"Theirs is pretty good but nothing on Maine chowder." Wayne noted.
"You know I've never been. And I was in Boston for a year, at Emerson. Just too busy…"
"Good school for a journalist…" nod. Wry smile. "I know I was a little out of line getting your number like that."
She grinned, dazzling smile… "I'm still floored by how fast you got it. You could barely have had time to Google me after you'd left."
"I didn't want to pass up the chance to really meet you." Wayne, simply.
"Now I'm passed flattered to embarrassed…" she noted, a bit sheepishly.
"Don't mean to…"
"Is your dance card that empty?" she eyed him.
"Of people I really want to know…And maybe, dance with? Afraid so." Wayne nodded.
"Now that's hard to believe on some levels, not so hard on others. It must be tough for you to meet people without a lot of nonsense." Careful stare.
"Not so easy for you, too, I imagine. You've become a pretty public figure on the news."
"Hope that's not more 'pretty' than 'public'…" she noted.
"From the stories I've seen, no. You're a solid journalist. And I have known a few good ones, including Alexander Knox of the Globe."
"Thanks. I appreciate that. And speaking of my job…" she smiled.
He gave mock groan…"Anything except Batman's address…Which I really don't have, anyway…And the stock my fellas want to buy tomorrow." Grin.
"Fair enough…Though I could use a good stock tip. Contrary to rumors, they don't really pay that well at local news." Smile. "So you do feel the Crime Commission's made a difference?"
"I hope so. How about you? I mean, as a citizen… I know it can seem like a gabfest with nothing getting done. It's been that way in past years, sometimes."
She gazed mock-reprovingly… "I can't be part of the story…"
"Everyone is…" he noted, smiling. "Just refer to yourself as an average, if somewhat better informed, citizen."
"Advice in journalism as well…Is there nothing Bruce Wayne can't do?"
"Mix a decent cocktail, get a cake to rise right…Believe me, I've had lessons…Play more than a few show tunes on the piano…" shrug. "Had lessons there too…"
"Pitiful. I play…And not too badly on Chopin." She noted. "Practice, practice…" she wagged a finger lightly.
"True enough…But Alfred…My former guardian and manager of my estate…Makes me still keep at it, with little result."
"Well, I did have my mother teaching me…Were you serious about Batman?" she turned serious so suddenly he was caught by surprise.
"Hmmn?"
"Sorry, it's been gnawing at me. Has he spoken to you about giving up his vigilante career?"
"We're hardly that close, Ms. Dane."
"Sorry…It is my job." She sighed.
"No, it's ok. I pressed myself on you. I appreciate you didn't tell me to soak my head." Pause, somewhat sheepish eyeing…
"Thanks again…" he noted to the waiter, currently setting down his burger and salad.
"You sure you don't want anything else?" he asked Ms. Dane.
"Well, one more cup of the chowder? It was pretty good." The waiter nodding and heading off again.
"I still say you should try Maine chowder."
"I will, sometime." She smiled. "I think you were going to ask me something…Why I came, maybe?"
"I'm sorta hoping…" he took a bite of the burger. "This is pretty good, you wanna try a little?"
"Maybe just a little. Thanks." She took a piece from his hand. "That is good. You were sorta…?" she smiled.
"Hoping it wasn't just about getting more comments…" he shrugged.
"It wasn't." she smiled, a bit nervously. "God, I hope that didn't come off as badly as it sounded to me." Wan smile, leaning back in chair.
"No." he smiled. "It did not."