Chapter 2

© Clay (Dylan) Clearbrook

"Just one more signature, Ms Kent-Danvers."

Kara Kent-Danvers sighed and turned away from the great glass wall that gave her a view of the bay and, beyond, the skyline of the neighboring city of Gotham and glowered at her personal aide, Terry Slater. For her part, Terry ignored the look and slid a paper from the folder in her arms and placed it on the desk and waited. Grumbling, Kara snatched the paper up and gave it what might appear to Terry as a rapid scan before scrawling her signature. She knew Terry felt she barely glanced at the documents she laid before her. She would have been surprised to discover that her employer carefully read each and every word before putting her signature on anything.

"Enough, Terry." Kara slid the document to the edge of the desk and turned to gaze back out at the skyline. "I swear if you make me sign anything else my hand is going to cramp and I am going to cancel tonight."

"That was the last one, Boss." Terry laughed. It had been a running joke for nearly three years for Kara to refer to Terry as her taskmaster rather than her executive secretary. "And don't even think about canceling. But after tonight, you have a clean slate for the weekend. I will call you if anything comes up, though." She wagged a finger at her dark-haired employer. "So no turning off the phone!"

"Spoilsport." Kara grimaced. "The guy who invented the cell phone must have been one sadistic S.O.B.!" She felt rather than saw her aide step up beside her to look out over the bay.

"Frankly, I am surprised it hasn't been canceled." Terry offered, gesturing towards the skies. Like everyone else on the planet, she was still a bit edgy. It had only been a few days since the turbulent green skies that had encircled the globe for over a week had cleared. As yet, no one had ventured theory as to what had caused the green skies. There had been some tense moments of near panic when the green skies had first manifest, but as time passed with no visible results, life had gone on as usual.

"It would take an act of the gods for the Wayne Foundation to cancel its annual charity ball." Kara smirked. "In the past eighty years, the Ball has been canceled only once." She glanced sideways and caught the look of surprise on Terry's face. "What? Just because I have no desire to attend doesn't mean I haven't done my homework. I always check out the competition."

"Well, strictly speaking, Wayne Enterprises isn't a direct competitor." Terry grumped. She was only partially correct, of course. While Kent-Danvers Inc. did not compete with Wayne Enterprises directly in the marketplace, they did compete in both Research and Development.

When Kent-Danvers first started up in Metropolis, the previous COO (Chief Operating Officer) of Wayne Enterprises had used some questionable tactics in order to squash them. Those efforts came to an abrupt halt when that COO suddenly found his employment terminated and a new COO selected to fill his shoes. The next day Kara had been surprised to find a note on her desk, personally written by one Bruce Richard Alistair Wayne, the CEO (Chief Executive Officer) of Wayne Enterprises, offering his sincere apologies.

"Well, I better go take care of these." Terry sighed as she gathered up the paper Kara had signed and slid it back into the folder she held. She made her way to the door and, upon reaching it, stopped to look back. "Please at least try to have fun tonight…and play nice with the reporters, Boss!" She ordered before leaving and closing the door behind her.

"Damn." Kara sighed. Still, she sat and continued to gaze out over the bay that separated Metropolis from Gotham City.

Located near the northernmost borders of the city of Metropolis, the Kent-Danvers Inc. building was one of the newest additions, being less than five years old. At that, it was only two years younger than the company for which it was named.

When Kent-Danvers Inc. had burst on to the scene, it had caused quite a stir in the Metropolis business and celebrity circles.

Billed as a major research and development firm, Kent-Danvers Inc. had seemingly sprung out of nowhere and was, within a few short years, already competing with Wayne Enterprises for the position of top R&D firm in the area, if not the country. Yet it was Kara herself that garnered most of the attention. Speculation had run wild when she had made her first appearance. Rather speculation had run wild when her Kent-Danvers Inc. had burst on the scene because the sole stock owner and CEO very rarely made a personal appearance. From the beginning, Terry had been the official spokeswoman of Kent-Danvers Inc. Chief Public Relations Officer was just one of the many hats she wore when she wasn't acting as Kara's Keeper. For close to two years no one had even gotten a glimpse of illusive Kara Kent-Danvers, leading many to wonder if she truly existed.

Though she had made appearances over the past three years, each due to a demand from Terry, speculation had not ceased. Whatever the business community had expected, she was not it. Going by appearances only, she was barely into her twenties, but already gave off the air of a much older, no-nonsense businesswoman. Gossip columnists had initially started out trying to compare her to the Gotham City's Rick Wayne yet if there was an opposite of the overly flamboyant millionaire playboy, Kara Kent-Danvers was it. To date, not even the Daily Planet's notorious Cat Grant had been able to dig up any dirt on the mysterious sole owner and CEO of Kent-Danvers Inc. Whatever else Miss Kent-Danvers might be it was clear that she kept her professional and personal lives completely separate.

Now she was still trying to figure out how she had let Terry rope her into this. Of all the ways to spend a Friday evening, hob-knobbing with the rich and stuffy at the Wayne Manor Annual Charity Ball was not one she would have willingly chosen.

While the event had started out decades early, hosted in those times by Thomas and Martha Wayne during the rebuilding of what would become Gotham City, primarily for the elite of the former New York City, it had evolved over the years into a grand affair attracting the rich and famous from all over the nation. Of course, where the rich and famous went TV crews and reporters followed.

"It's disgusting." Kara had griped as Terry had waved the official invitation at her for the umpteenth time. "We give more to more charities than…" she trailed off as Terry shook her head.

"It's not about the amount, Miss Danvers!" Terry was firm. "It is the appearances! Publicity!"

"Publicity!" Kara snarled. "Those vultures are not interested in what Kent-Danvers Inc. does for the community. They are not going to report on the advances we have made in science and medicine."

"No, they won't." Terry had agreed. "They are going to see one of the nation's youngest CEOs, who is barely out of her teens, who just happens to be the sole owner of one of the newest and largest Research and Development Corporations. They are going to wonder if she is even old enough to drink…and they are going to speculate whether she is going to be a match for Gotham City's Rick Wayne. They are going to see that size of your contribution to his charities, and speculate why you gave so much and what you are going to get out of it."

"And yet you still insist I attend this circus!" Kara exclaimed.

"Yes." Terry had nodded. "Because it IS publicity. You've seen our numbers. You know we are running in the black but our numbers are starting to slip drastically. In three years time, we will be dipping into the red. You hired consultants to determine the reasons for this and you have their conclusions. Publicity. Or, in our case, the lack of it. We need to start a Public Relations campaign and this will be the start of it." She held up a hand to silence Kara before she could respond. "No, stuffy scientists and sterile facts and figures won't cut it. YOU are the heart and soul of Kent-Danvers…You need to be the one front and center."

Two hours later, Kara knew that the evening was not going to be as bad as she had feared…it was going to be worse.

Wayne Manor was not located in Gotham City proper but situated near the westernmost city limits in what could only be called a wilderness. After Gotterdammerung had completely destroyed New York City, what had once been the Bronx had been completely leveled and rebuilt, primarily due to, and initially financed by, the Wayne family. It was the first of the former boroughs of New York to break away and form an individual city. Thus had Gotham City been born. During the clearing and rebuilding, a large portion of land on the western edges of the city had been allowed to return to nature…and it was here that the Wayne Family had built their extravagant mansion! Planted firmly in the middle of several acres of wooded land, one had to traverse a long, winding narrow road for nearly ten minutes before one even reached the main gates that led to the 'official' driveway. It was here, near those gates that the uninvited reporters and paparazzi lined the road, trying desperately to catch glimpses and photos of the rich and famous.

While most of the guests arrived in long black limousines, Kara had opted to drive herself. Probably a poor choice. A woman with long dark hair in a pristine reconditioned yellow Mustang convertible from the 60's was bound to attract attention.

Cameras flashed left and right as she pulled up to the gate and waited for one of the guards to approach.

"I'm sorry, ma'am." The guard started talking, placing a hand on the door of the car. "This is a closed event tonight. Only invited guests are allowed through."

"Indeed?" Kara looked at the guard without smiling. "I must admit that I admire the fact that you have the ability to judge who has and has not been invited without first asking." She turned and snagged a small purse from the passenger seat and popped it open. Without even looking, she reached in and snagged a slip of paper. She held it out to the bewildered guard. "I was really not in the mood to attend in any case. If you will just pass this along to Mr. Wayne, I would appreciate it."

The guard took the paper and glanced at it, his face going pale.

"Uh…this is a check…." He swallowed and ran a finger under his collar, is if it were suddenly too tight as he read the name signed under the large amount. "uh…Miss Kent-Danvers?"

"Why yes, I do believe it is." Kara actually smiled now as she moved her hand to the gear shift and dropped into reverse. "If you'll be sure that gets to Mr. Wayne I'll just be on my way."

"Ma'am! I can't…I mean I….uh…" He thrust the check back into her hand and quickly stepped back away from the car, aware of all the cameras flashing. There was no way this was going to end well for him. "Of course you are on the list, Ma'am." He waved frantically for the gate to be opened. "If you just follow the drive on around to the Manor a Valet will be waiting for you!"

Kara sighed and passed through the gates. True to the guard's promise, a Valet was indeed waiting at the bottom of the steps leading to the Manor's main entrance.

The elderly man deftly made his way down the winding steps, hardly noticing when the smooth walls of the mansion above transformed into the rough-hewn walls of the tunnel leading to the tremendous cavern below.

Reaching the end of the staircase, he took a moment to look around in order to locate his target. With a sigh, he noticed the young man seated before a large computer screen, typing furiously on a keyboard before him.

"Master Rick." The old gentleman scolded as he approached. "You do, perhaps, recall that you have a house full of important people?"

"Yes, Alfred." Bruce Richard Alistair Wayne replied in a distracted manner. Depending on who you talk to the latest heir to the Wayne fortune, who preferred to go by the diminutive form of his first middle name, Rick Wayne was either an immoral wealthy playboy trying to live up to the image his grandfather portrayed prior to his marriage to Selina Kyle, the sharp-witted CEO of Wayne Industries, or an extremely civic conscious philanthropist. Few, however, knew that there was a fourth persona and Alfred Pennyworth who, like his father and his father before him had been in their times, was a former butler of the late Mr. and Mrs. Damien Wayne and was now butler for their son Rick, was one of those few.

Now he looked up at the computer screen, recognizing the background skyline.

"Something in Metropolis has gotten your attention?" He drawled. "Has Gotham become boring to you?"

"Watch this, Alfred." Rick touched a few keys and the view changed to the shaky view consistent with video shot from a phone.

The view depicted a standoff between Metropolis Police and some very well armed bank robbers. There were five criminals and each one of them held a child in his arms, weapons pointed at their heads.

Alfred's eyes widened when a multi-colored blur shot across the screen and suddenly the children were gone. Whoever was making the video turned the camera around to show that the children were now huddled together behind the police lines.

Sounds of gunfire caused the person with the phone to turn back to the bank entrance to see all five of the gunmen firing on the single figure that stood before them, between them and the police. That person remained motionless except for her arms which were moving too fast for the video to capture. From the rear angle of the camera, all that could be seen of the woman was that she was dressed in normal business attire and had short blond hair done in what was commonly called a pixie cut.

"She's catching ricochets and misses." Rick commented.

"How can you tell?" Alfred peered closer.

"I slowed the video down." Rick shrugged. "The rest are simply bouncing off her." He paused the video and turned to Alfred. "I read the after-action police report. At least of two of the weapons being used were heavy duty weapons. Meant to punch through armor. From this video, we can see those weapons causing her to stagger a bit, but not penetrating or putting her down!."

"Who is she?"

"According to the reports I have, they are calling her Supergirl. Some are speculating that she is the one that left the message in Superman's Fortress a few years ago. Claiming to be his cousin." Rick replied. "Apparently she doesn't appear often and then only in extreme cases. It is almost as if she just happens to be in the vicinity when she does make an appearance. The fact that she is wearing normal clothes rather than a uniform or costume supports that conclusion." He sighed. "So far she has not spoken to anyone and not one of the videos taken gotten a clear enough view of her face to allow me to run a facial recognition program. I have found traces that suggest that some images and videos have been scrubbed."

"Scrubbed, Master Wayne?"

"Someone has deliberately gone through and deleted certain images and videos." Rick mused. "I would bet that those images and videos possibly showed this woman's face!"

"If I might be so bold, Master Rick," Alfred again used the title that Rick hated. He only used it to stress the importance of what he was saying. He straightened up and turned to his onetime ward. "Why is this person of such an interest to you that she would cause you to skip out on a charity event that you organized?"

Rick looked back at the screen and sighed again.

"You're right, Alfred." He reluctantly agreed. "I have my plate full with Gotham." He stood, smoothed out his tux and then glanced back at the screen before following Alfred to the staircase. "But if she shows up here…."

"Until such a time, perhaps it might be a good idea to remember that though you have a room full of donators to the Wayne Charities, the CEO of your largest competitor is also upstairs with all your other clients!" Alfred sniffed.

"Alright, Alfred." Rick laughed as he followed.

Infuriating!

Leah Lane had found a relatively quiet corner in the huge ballroom and now stood with her back to the corner, her shoulders leaning against the walls on either side. She had her arms folded across her chest, all but hiding the press badge that hung on a lanyard around her neck, and glared across the great room as she contemplated the various ways she could torture Richard White – editor of the Daily Planet. The old fart had not only ignored her pleas to opt out of this assignment but had even gone so far as to assign her to act as a cub reporter for the Daily Planet's over glorified gossip columnist, Cat Grant. It didn't help matters that the old fart in question just happened to be her grandfather as well!

While it was true that she did not have the experience her grand-mother had acquired in her long years as an ace reporter before finally retiring and writing her memoirs, but she damned sure wasn't a wet behind the ears cub anymore!
She sighed as she considered the injustice of it all. When her grandmother had been around her age the entire journalistic world had been laid at her feet in the form of Superman! While Lois had gone out of her way, climbed too far out on too many shaky limbs, to prove to the world she deserved the accolades they gave her, there was no denying that it was her first and exclusive interview with the so-called Man of Steel and then their brief but all too visible romance that had rocketed her to fame and fortune!

Of course, that romance had ended with Superman's death and it was several years before Lois had allowed herself to move on. Her career had continued and she eventually ended up marrying Richard White. She would retire only after their daughter died in a car accident, leaving Richard and Lois to raise their grand-daughter!

Though Lois rarely talked about Superman or the relationship they had, Leah got the feeling that it was never a sore subject with her grandparents. Richard never tried to compete with Lois' memory and if Lois ever compared them in her mind she never let it show. In fact, it had been Richard's idea for Lois to write her memoirs. Lois had agreed with the stipulation that the memoirs had to cover her entire career and personal life, not just that part that involved Superman.

Of course, Lois might have changed her mind had she known that her grand-daughter, then a teen quickly approaching her senior year in high school and wondering where to go from there, would take those memoirs as a guide for her own life! Like her grandmother, Leah had gotten bitten by the Journalistic bug! There was nothing more she wanted other than to be an Investigative reporter!

Though she had refused to use her grandfather's position as editor of the Daily Planet to her advantage, she was not above using her grandmother's name. Thus Leah Anne White became Leah Lane.

She had bounced around a few newspapers in smaller communities for a couple of years before gathering the courage to apply for a position with the Daily Planet. It was heartbreaking to find out that her application had been rejected by none other than her own grandfather. It was nothing personal, he had assured her. Merely a business decision. The name Lane was an icon with the Daily Planet allowing another reporter to use that name….

Personally, Leah had thought the reason to be a little more personal than even Richard had wanted to admit to himself. He was, she believed, afraid of appearing to show favoritism by hiring his own grand-daughter.

Thankfully the editor of the Daily Planet did not have complete control of the hiring process. Though he could terminate the employment of any employee within his domain, for just cause, a board determined who was hired in the first place. Richard had been outvoted! The rest of the board, it seemed, believed the return of the name LANE to the Daily Planet might help with rapidly dropping revenues! It also helped that Leah had, during her time out on her own had learned the ins and outs of blogging and vlogging and had already acquired a substantial following. Old newspapermen, like her grandfather, might resist delving into the electronic world of the internet but Leah was of the generation that knew without a doubt that unless newspapers embraced the new technology, they were going to be history.

With a sigh, Leah pushed away from the corner. She might not like the assignment…but her work ethic would not allow her to simply stand back and sulk. She would do her job!

Though she had been greeted at the door by a butler that had introduced himself as Alfred, 'Master Wayne's Butler', she had yet to catch sight of the man of the hour himself. She had not even attempted to mingle with the other guests gathered in the grand ballroom. Instead, she had slipped out as soon as an opportunity had arisen, choosing to wander the halls to admire the art.

There was nothing that would even hint at modern art in these grand hallways. Instead, there were portraits and classical statues. True art.

Thus far she had avoided reporters, paparazzi and other guests and had to admit that strolling through the fabulous artworks was quite enjoyable.

At the moment, she was staring up a life-size portrait of a woman and two men. The woman, situated between the men held a bundle in her arms with both men smiling down at it. The man on her right had his arm around her shoulders. The woman was, Kara knew, Selina Kyle. The woman that had, supposedly, tamed the ultimate playboy. That would make the man with his arm around her shoulders…

"That was taken from a black and white photo a reporter took when they were leaving the Hospital." A soft voice spoke from behind her and she turned to find Rick Wayne himself standing there. He was looking up at the picture, not at her. "My grandparents. The man to the left was their good friend and my grandfather's one time ward: Richard Grayson. I was named for both of them." He turned and looked at her and though he smiled it was not a smile that reached his eyes. "I still haven't figured out where the name Alistair came from. I never got the opportunity to ask my father about it."

Kara had, naturally, heard of the so-called Wayne Curse. Starting with Thomas Wayne, no male member of the Wayne family had ever lived to a ripe old age. Indeed, from the date listed under the portrait, all three of the adults shown, Bruce, Selina, and Richard, had perished together less than a year later under mysterious circumstances. Damien Wayne, Rick's father, had died before reaching the age of thirty-five…also under mysterious circumstances. One could not live in Gotham or Metropolis and not know of the Wayne Curse.

Now, standing there looking up at the portrait of his grandparents as they showed off their newborn son, there was none of the flamboyant playboy that society saw when they looked at Rick Wayne. Instead, Kara saw a grim, determined man.

As if noting her look, Rick shook himself and again smiled….this time it did reach to his eyes.

"Ms. Kent-Danvers, I presume?" He asked, extending a hand.

"Guilty as charged." Kara smiled as she extended her own hand. "But my name is Kara. If you don't Ms. Kent-Danvers me, I won't Mr. Wayne you!"

"First name basis already." Rick shook his head, grinning. "What will the news vultures make of that, I wonder?"

The remainder of the evening was, to Kara's surprise, actually enjoyable. When she and Rick had entered the ballroom, chatting like old friends, the reporters and photographers that had been allowed to attend had swarmed all over them.

Hours later, Alfred showed Kara to a private study and left her there while he and Rick ushered the last of the guests out of the mansion. Left to her own devices, Kara checked her phone, smiling to see that Terry had left her no less than seven text messages, demanding to know what was going on. From the messages, it appeared that those reporters present had not even waited for the event to end before plastering pictures and videos of her and Rick all over the television and internet. Speculation was running rampant and talking heads were looking forward to the opening of the stock market the next morning.

"Please tell me….I need a laugh." Rick sighed as he stepped into the study just as Kara giggled at Terry's latest frustrated text.

"My keeper." Kara smiled as she held up the phone. "It seems you and I are the talk of the town tonight and everyone is wondering what it means for Wayne Industries and Kent-Danvers Inc. If Terry could shout in a text message I would be deaf."

"Ah, afraid you're selling out?" Rick smiled and shook his head. "Don't get me wrong. If I thought you might, I would make an offer. But I've sorta made it a habit to read people and you don't strike me as the type to be willing to sell out."

"Well, on that, you would probably only be partially right." Kara disagreed. "If Wayne Industries' emphasis was on the type of research Kent-Danvers does, I would gladly hand it over." She shook her head. "I would rather be down in the labs working on something. Instead of shuffling papers and worrying about publicity."

"You might think so now, but I have my doubts as to whether you could actually go through with it." Rick smiled. "Not that it matters. As far as I am concerned, there is more than enough room for both of us." He gave a little laugh. "In fact, we do emphasize different areas of research, even if they do coincide from time to time. I see that as a good thing. Keeps us both on our toes!" He moved behind the desk that sat to one side in the room and, without even glancing, picked up a slim folder that lay there. He held it up for a moment and then extended it to Kara.

Intrigued, Kara took the folder and glanced through it, her eyebrows rising.

"These are research projects Kent-Danvers has been commissioned to undertake." She said, looking up.

"Five of them to be exact." Rick nodded. "By five different companies – all of which just happen to be silent subsidiaries of Wayne Industries." He shrugged. "Why go to the expense of reinventing the wheel? Those companies deal with projects that are more in line with Kent-Danver's medical emphasis than with Wayne Industries' mainstream R&D. Of course, I can't take credit for being the first to use a potential competitor for R&D. If you look further in that folder you will see what I mean. Imagine how surprised I was to discover that one of the largest contributors to Wayne Industries Law Enforcement R&D division just happens to be the Benjamin Danvers Foundation."

"My father." Kara laughed. "He was a Police detective in Metropolis before he moved with mom to Smallville." She shrugged, still smiling. "As you said, why reinvent the wheel when someone else is already working on it?"

After Kara left, Rick sat behind his desk, flipping through images on his computer.

"So have your suspicions been confirmed?" Alfred asked as he brought in a tray bearing two steaming cups of coffee.

"Suspicions, Alfred?" Rick shook her head. "What suspicions might those be?"

"Rick, my boy, don't try to fool me." The old butler sat one of the cups on the desk in front of Rick and took the other himself as he seated himself in the chair Kara had so recently occupied. "First I find you looking at video of that woman in Metropolis. Now you are going through pictures you had taken of Kara tonight and comparing them to pictures your great-grand-father had of Superman! You are looking for a family resemblance, maybe?"

"Busted." Rick laughed. "Thomas Wayne knew who Superman was…but he never made that knowledge public. I don't even think Superman was aware that Thomas had discovered his secret identity. He knew that Clark Kent and Superman were one and the same person. Now we have a mysterious 'supergirl' appearing, just as a new 'Kent' moves to Metropolis." He chuckled. "If her parents had simply given her the same surname as her father instead of saddling her with a hyphenated last name, it would have been more difficult to put the pieces together." He turned back to the computer screen and pulled up a large image of Kara Kent-Danver's face. "But to answer your question…yes. I would bet half the Wayne fortune on it!"

"So what now?" Alfred asked, giving his one-time charge a shrewd look.

"Now?" Rick touched a few keys on the keyboard before him and watched as the pictures and files dealing with his suspicions were deleted. "Now I go to bed and get rested up. It appears Rick Wayne has a dinner date in Metropolis tomorrow evening with one Kara Kent-Danvers. "I think it would be extremely rude of me to start off by accusing my prospective date of being…Supergirl!"

To be Continued…..