A/N: Just so that I am perfectly clear, which I'm pretty positive that I am, this is meant to be Nolan verse. So don't get confused, or think that it is based off of the comic style, animated style, or previous/Burton Batmans. Because it is not…Even if I love those as well. Well, first chapter-hope you like. Please let me know if you have any ideas or questions about it. I'd be more than interested to answer them.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for Dana Jury, and her work buddies-etc.
When Simple Things Just Don't Cut It
.one.
God I hated her. I hated the way she talked to Andrew, my assistant, and I hated the way she dressed, flashing off her ugly-ass body, but pretending that somehow she held a figure better than Angelina Jolie.
The woman was a complete fake; a wench, and an opinionated colleague.
Her career and success was an honest-to-god mystery, and I had every moment of her pathetic reputation doodled in my black mini notebook.
Although we had another group meeting, which was actually rather droll, I still managed to find time to sneak away into my scribbling, penning down my detestation for the 24 year-old journalist.
She sat across from me at the large, rectangular meeting table. Her smug smile brightened by cheap lipstick, and even cheaper motives. She purposefully sat across from Andrew, flashing off her expensive cleavage in an awful zebra patterned dress. God, she looked like she fell into a zoo, squishing all of its finest inhabitants into her undersized nighty. Someone needed to smack her face. Somehow that girl had to drop the high school act and realize she was competing with New York's best. Or, soon to be best.
No body would do a thing about her. She was their little princess, their eye candy, and an easy way to get predictable (and disgusting) viewers.
Still. I hated her. I really did. Not just because she constantly tried to steal my best friend, my partner away from me. No, she had no business working at the New York Times at all. Seriously, I could accuse Mandy Mellbrooks of many things-things that everyone pretended were just rumors which, of course, they had never heard of in the first place. Well, I knew it. I witnessed it. And I hated her.
"We've got to hit back hard," Charles went on, pumping his fist into the air eagerly, distracting me from my fuming illustrations.
"We need hard-hitting stories! Things that the world can look at and say, 'Wow! I'm glad I read the New York Times this morning.,' not 'hell, maybe I'll just go online and read someone else's crap,' got it?" The majority of us laughed. But even as we quieted our giggles, and slouched back in our fancy office chairs, we all knew Charles Jury was very serious. He had been that way almost all month.
"I know you hate it when I flay reality at you, and bombard you with demands for better journalism, but we need to get back on the field! I'm so sick and tired of hearing how successful Metropolis has become, or how this reporter won a Pulitzer Prize, or this station got this many views-I'M DONE WITH IT!" I arched a brow, observing the anger in his face. I swear, had our lives been animated, thick steam would have been shooting from his ears.
"Listen up, kids. We need to try harder. We need to get our act together, and start writing better articles. Covering intense stories-finding the truth underneath the gritty, greasy lies." A few people mumbled agreements, while the rest of us just simply nodded our head, or pushed forward in excitement to show off that 'well renowned' cleavage.
"So here are your assignments for the week," Our boss began, scratching his balding forehead with exasperation. "Jonathan, you're covering entertainment, Cassie-take care of the presidential candidate scandal story, will ya? Make it flashy, but true. Corbin, sports-and no more stories about intoxicated football players with Paula Abdul tattooed to their ass, got it?" Corbin nodded, but not without exposing a comical grin.
"And you, Mandy," He smiled, walking toward her-pressing his thick hand on her tiny (bony) shoulder. "You are going to cover that story I told you about, hmm?" She nodded, smiling sweetly. That drove me crazy. It was unfair. Unfair that some pompous, stupid girl with the mind of a teenager got all the attention.
Jealous? Maybe…
But who wouldn't be a little jealous if their daddy gave all of their attention to some cheap little brat? So, am I jealous? Yes.
"Andrew, you and Dana are going to cover world view. Show NYC some quality stories about the outside cities," He ordered, glancing at me with a grin. "Pack your bags, kiddies, you're going to Gotham." Andrew's jaw dropped just about the same time as my pen. It clattered to the table with a soft echo, rolling slightly, and falling into my lap.
"G-Gotham, sir?" Andrew piped up, completely bewildered. "Why Gotham? Sir, why send us all the way to Gotham City when, say, we could cover that hero story in L.A-
"Gotham, and because I said so." His voice was firm and unbinding. There wasn't any loophole out of there, at least not in front of everyone. If it were just daddy to daughter, there could be a possibility of changing his mind. Possibility being the operative word.
"Sir," I said, picking up my pen slowly. "Why exactly did you pick Gotham?" He narrowed his eyes, giving me the 'rebellious much?' vibe.
"Because tragedy sells. They've got monstrous messes, big issues, and plenty of uncovered stories. Now stop whining."
It was still unclear to me as to why my father would send us all the way to Gotham. It made no sense. It cost way more to fly us out there, and find a decent place to stay, rather than finding a better, and bigger location with plenty of less-disaster prone stories. I was convinced that there was something more. Something he wanted to get his hands on, perhaps something to bring our bland paper back to its golden prime.
I didn't waste much time demeaning Mandy after that. Sure, I was still super pissed about the diva getting probably the most exciting assignment, but I had more important eggs to fry. First of which, I had to confront my daddy about the far off gig.
It had been quite awhile after decent working hours. I was tired, and I pulled my blonde hair back into a haphazard twist. I drew my hazel eyes away from the monitor. I had been starring at it for hours, trying, somehow, to find any sort of major incident elsewhere that could help score us with an improved location. To my luck, I found one. It was in Denver, Colorado. A group of young girls were discovered living underneath an old house. Man was arrested, tapes taken in to custody, and it screamed perfect escape story. Still, I had doubts that daddy might change his mind. My father was stubborn. Rarely did he alter what he vocalized.
I stood up from my worn office chair and stretched. I had been cramped there all day. Before I headed for his office though, I managed to flatten out any wrinkles that developed in my grey slacks and ashen blouse.
I headed for his door, stopped, and knocked gently. When he beckoned me in, I obeyed.
"Hey, whatcha need, Dana?" He asked, still slouching at his own desk, glaring at article drafts within a dimly lit office. "I'm surprised you haven't left yet." I nodded, shrugging slightly. "Well, come in."
I did just that. I took a seat at the chair across from him, crossing my legs gracefully and folding my arms into my lap. He hadn't looked up yet. He was still observing the format, expressing a disgruntled moan.
"I take it you're here to discuss your travel arrangements?"
"Something like that."
He glanced up, finally.
"The answer is no. I still want the two of you in Gotham."
"But Dad-
"Dana, you're going. That place is chalk full of untouched press, and I really think they could use the help of an outsider to bring in and out information. They're going through harsh times, and you, my dear, are one tough cookie." I growled, glaring back at him. Our death glares were near matching. It was evidently something I picked up from him.
"You're just going to be stubborn about this, aren't you…?" I said, rubbing my temples for relief.
"Yep. Don't you want to experience the life of hard times and cutting edge stories? I thought that was what you dreamed of doing? You know, getting down and dirty with the real world." There was a pause for a moment, and then it broke off with the sound of our hushed chuckles.
"Wow, great word phrasing, dad. You construct sentences so well. No wonder you're editor and chief."
He shot me a dirty look, but couldn't help to smile afterwards. At least he had humor. But that didn't change my current predicament.
"So we're going then…?" I looked at him, tracing all lines of seriousness on his matured face.
"Yes. You and Andrew, both."
"Great…."
"It will be. It has to be. It's your job, and you need to put that career of yours first. Besides, Dana, you're so close to reaching a high in your career. Give me one more promising story and you've got yourself serious career advancement. You need this big break, kid, because when simple things just don't cut it, you have to strive for better."
With that, my old man stretched from his chair and made his way toward me. He placed a hand on my shoulder, resting it there-not moving. No more words; that was it. He had decided our destination, and sadly my 'good looks' and 'witty charm' had no affect on him. Not like Mandy, of course.
He leaned down and planted a kiss on my forehead.
"Now go home and get rest. You're leaving Tuesday, so tell that knuckle-head boyfriend of yours to book your flights by then."
I nodded, returned the kiss, and left.
"Tuesday? Ugh! He hates me, I swear! Doesn't he know that that's my grandma's birthday? She's turning ninety-two!" Sighing heavily, I tried to ignore the distant whining from the other end of the phone. I was in the taxi, on my way home. Andrew was upset. However, I had warned him time and time again that my girlish charisma, and the fact that I was his only daughter meant very little when trying to negotiate with him.
"God. This is going to be the worst trip ever…" He groaned, and I mimicked.
"Yeah, but once we get there, and get it over with, we can go out and celebrate-you know, get drunk, naked and rambunctious," I teased, relieved when I heard him chuckle on the other end.
"Drunk, yes-rambunctious-hopefully," he replied. "We all know you're all 'puritan' about that."
"Having morals, you mean?" I corrected, but teasingly. It was a personal issue, one he had a hard time dealing with-but still, I appreciated the jokes from time to time. It connected us, making our rather uncertain relationship fonder.
"Yeah, that."
"Well, that situation could be fixed, you know, if someone just proposed already." There was silence. Big mistake. I should have just kept my mouth closed, stopping at morality. Still, I knew I probably triggered something, whether it was good or bad, it didn't matter now. It had been done.
"Yeah, well…" He broke the silence. Thank God. "When the time is right, Jury, when the time is right."
"Alright then, Smith," I said, addressing him in the same manner, calling him by his last name. "I'm gonna go, the Taxi's parked. Call you tomorrow? Don't forget to book our flights. I'm serious."
"I know. I know."
"Good. Now I'll talk to you later, secret lover," I teased, and he laughed. Thankfully.
"Yes, dream of me, my sultry mistress." I couldn't help but smile. Sultry added such an appeal to it.
"Will do. Will do."
A/N: Yes, I admit this was long and boring…but not pointless! Not completely, anyway. I just needed to explain her background and whatever. And in this story, I am making it seem like Gotham is quite far from NY. So just live with it.
Hope you like it, and chapter two will be coming shortly.
Review, if you will….
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