2. The Tea Party
Selina had travelled a short distance before landing to wander the back streets of darkest Gotham. Little boutiques and jewellers were shut up tight, their windows barred. A wise notion when it came to the kinds of criminal wandering around. Selina had gazed into the murky windows herself, looking for a steal, but nothing worthy caught her eye. Tonight, there was no urge for material gain, but one of company and reassurance. What Penguin had said of the Joker had made the tension and heat feel almost heavier upon her departure of the Iceberg Lounge. The oppressive suffocation you get when you get into a car that's been sat in heat for too long, choking and stifling.
She had been wandering past the backstreet watchmakers, when she heard a faint ticking. Cocking her ear she presumed it was coming from the shop window. Instead, it was coming from her left, from a broken window of a desolate store. Partly boarded, leaving a wide enough gap to look in. Cautiously, she tiptoed forward when she began to hear a shrill voice chattering away.
"You still haven't drunk your tea, you know. You know what they say about little girls who don't finish their tea-"
Selina stretched as far as she could to peer through the broken window to see the owner of the voice. She wasn't at all surprised to see Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter.
"-that's right, that's right." He continued, "Little girls who don't drink their tea grow up to be dirty, stinking girls who let all the boys feel in their undergarments."
He was sat at the head of a long table, lined with lifeless figures sat in shadow. His conversation was being held with the top half of a dressmaker's female mannequin sat next to him that was clad in a grubby blue dress and a frayed blonde wig. He patted the mannequin's hair and began to stroke it, babbling away excitedly.
"We did so well to find balloons. Yes, found them by the steel mill. Now we have company for the whole evening - All of us!" He clapped hurriedly with glee with and gave a little squeal. "How delightful for all of us!"
Selina craned her neck to see the rest of the figures lining the table; she could see now what they really were. Jervis had tied each of the helium-filled balloons he had found to the rung of each chair lining the table. They all had crude, childishly scrawled faces on them in marker pen, each getting messier and even more disturbing as he had gone along. They hung motionlessly, the faces grinning out in the darkness.
Jervis suddenly shoved his hand into the nearest cake laid on the table. Selina winced as his fist went through the layer of the mould above the frosting. He withdrew his fist, clutching fetid crumbling sponge and tenderly began to wipe it around the mouth of his mannequin. Almost like an infant pretending to feed a baby doll.
"Theeeeeere. Now isn't that nice? It's my best recipe you know, not many can disagree with truly how scrumptious it tastes."
Jervis' head snapped away from his beloved mannequin and stared accusingly at one of the balloon heads, although he had heard it speak ill of him. Watching his gaze, Selina noticed it was the one sat right beneath the very window she was watching through. He stood from his seat, glaring at the balloon with pure hatred. At round 4' 8", he wasn't a terribly imposing or threatening stature, but Jervis' eyes blazed like fire as he began to raise his shrill voice in fury.
"Do you have some disagreement with me, Mr. Malone? Is my hospitality not to your standards? Have you dined better than what lies before you?" he shrieked. The balloon verbally under fire, as it would, hung in the air, its primitive grin shining permanently.
"I feel, Mr. Malone," Jervis spat viciously, "that if it were your party, you would want no quabbles! You. never. quabble. with. a. host!" His voice became higher and sharper, as he banged his cake-covered fist on the table with every word. Selina cringed at the squealing pitch of his voice.
"I will have no scrutiny here, , how very, very, dare you. I really do think" - A glint of metal caught Selina's eye as he suddenly snatched up a cake knife – "you need to work on your TABLE MANNERS!"
Selina ducked instinctively as he hurled the knife at the disruptive "guest" - there was a sharp pop, and a clatter of the knife hitting the floor – as Mr. Malone met the end of his days. Then, silence.
Selina stayed crouched underneath the window for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. If he'd have caught sight of her during his rage, then there really would have been bloodshed tonight. She strained her ears to hear what was going on and heard a little giggle; a spine-chilling giggle like blood slowly trickling down a wall.
"That showed him for quabbling with me." Jervis hissed. There was a pause, and the hiss became a sickly tone once more. "Why haven't you touched your tea? You know what becomes of little girls who don't drink their tea…"
Selina ducked away from the window and the freakish scene happening within. Out of sight, she stood up tall and brushed herself off. Jervis is no threat to anyone tonight, she thought to herself. She knew full well that these make-believe scenarios he put himself into would keep him occupied for a while. Without a doubt, he'd have the same confrontation again and again with each balloon around until it was only him and "his Alice" left. It wasn't worth sticking around to watch.
Selina turned and crept down the back street from which she came, shaking her head over the bizarre scene she'd just witnessed. Until a thought struck her –
"We did so well to find balloons. Yes, found them by the steel mill…"
Selina stopped. The Steel Mill. Oswald, too, had expressed his concerns over Joker's next move. What the hell did balloons have to do with it? She took a deep breath. Should she go and investigate…? At least if she saw anything first hand she could reciprocate the favour to The Penguin as he had with her. Maybe she could tell Batman…
Batman.
She shook her head at the thought of him. He'd been elusive of her lately, perhaps too ashamed to admit the dark nights they'd shared together.
The crashing of a vase of flowers onto her bedroom floor. A battle of rough kisses as the polished wood of the headboard cracked under gripped fists. His low husky groan in her ear as she'd dragged her sharp nails into the flesh of his toned back, urging him….
She pulled herself out of the memory. He always did this. Too proud to admit he'd succumb to his lust, his need for relief. His need for her. The hero of the day couldn't be associated with villains. He'd often asked in the aftermath of their passions, where she really stood.
"I just can't trust you, Selina," he'd say, ironically donning the mask as he said it. "I just don't know where you really stand." It was a statement she had no answer for. Like them, she was a criminal. Like him, she cared about the city. She'd made it this far and had been alright, that was for sure.
She lifted her head to the muggy skies, clouds toxic fumes swirling lazily overhead, deliberating her next move.
Visiting the Steel Mill to investigate could possibly save her life, or if she wasn't careful, end it.