Veritas
Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or any of the facts/characters I've used from the Batman movies or comics (i.e. Daniel Danforth Dickerson III). I do own Mara Russell, Ann, and Natalie.
And I'm borrowing this chapter title from a Batman joke that someone created (I don't know who), so technically I don't own the phrase used in this chapter title, but it makes me smile every time…
Author's Note: Thanks to LisaDawn75, Blodeuedd, and emptyvoices for reviewing.
LisaDawn75: I'm really glad you're still liking it! I hope you like this chapter too.
Blodeuedd: Blush. Wow, you sure know just what to say to make someone happy. I was floating around on a cloud all day after I read your review! A million thanks.
emptyvoices: Glad you liked it. I hope this update was fast enough to make you smile!
He Lives in a Lair
"Alfred, can you hand me the drill?"
"Of course, Master Bruce," Alfred answered his employer, handing over the tool. "Now, remind me again, Master Bruce, why we decided we were capable of upgrading this cave ourselves," he said, wiping sweat off his brow with his handkerchief.
Bruce chuckled. "Well, if you didn't insist on wearing your uniform to muck around in these caves with me, I'm sure you wouldn't find it quite so uncomfortable. Besides, I seem to remember you suggesting these upgrades. I'm just going along with your genius."
Alfred frowned and adjusted his suit collar. "Yes, well... I suppose flattery will get you everywhere." His voice was very dry. Very English.
"Will it get me an opinion on how this looks?" Bruce had just finished securing the last anchor into the rock wall. Towering impressively against the wall was a massive computer system, with multiple screens, radios, and dials and switches of which Alfred could only guess their uses.
"Well, sir, it looks to me like a nightmare to set up, but now that it's secure to the wall and the programming will be up to you – not me – I'd say it looks very appropriate for the lair of Gotham's superhero."
"Hmm," was Bruce's only reply. He wasn't sure if he liked this whole 'superhero' label. Superheroes were admired, not feared. He didn't want this label from the newspapers to detract from the fear he had placed in Gotham's criminals so far. He stood back to admire the fruits of their labor: the computers climbing high up one wall, bright electric lanterns hanging all along the rocky ceiling, and twenty-three steps carved up to one of several hidden doorways now part of Wayne Manor.
Wayne Manor was rebuilt in three weeks time. A testament to what can be done when money is not an issue. And now that the building was complete, Alfred was insisting on hosting a housewarming party: an attempt to rectify the affront to upper-class society caused by Bruce's "drunkenness" at his birthday party. Public appearances as Bruce Wayne had been scarce since then, and Batman was able to spend more time fighting the dark underbelly of Gotham. Not that it's made a difference, Bruce thought morosely. A sigh of frustration escaped from him.
Alfred frowned. "You'll catch him soon enough, Master Bruce."
Bruce looked over at his butler, not surprised at his insight. "Not soon enough to save that family last month... the Russells." He shook his head in frustration and glared at a spot on the cave wall. "He played with me. He keeps playing. Makes me look one way, then murders an innocent family practically in the same neighborhood. Dammit, Alfred. He killed them just to show me he could get away with it!" Bruce flinched at the rage he could hear in his own voice. He felt the reassuring pressure of a hand on his shoulder.
Alfred spoke firmly. "You will get him, Bruce. You will bring him to justice and the people of Gotham will see that, with Batman around, the murderers and criminals of Gotham will go free no longer." There was silence and Bruce felt his anger calm to a simmer. "Now," Alfred began cheerfully, "it's time to get ready for your party." Bruce groaned. Alfred shot him a stern but amused look. "And please do be on your best behaviour this time."
"Don't tell me it was difficult to get anyone to come tonight?"
"Oh no," Alfred responded dryly. "No, you have much too much money for situations to ever become as dire as that."
The elite of Gotham society began arriving at Wayne Manor at six o'clock that night: the men in their best tuxedos and the women in their best cocktail dresses of varying shades of black.
Bruce surveyed the gathering through the two-way mirror he had had installed looking out onto the entryway of the manor from one of many newly built hidden rooms. He sighed and rotated his shoulders, preparing to make his way into the foray of the elite. He ran his hand down the barely visible seam in the wall to have it slide smoothly and silently open, and he stepped through into one of the many upper halls of his mansion. The door slid closed behind him. Nose raised a few inches higher in the air, face set to impassive friendliness, Bruce went to meet his guests.
"Bruce Wayne. Wonderful to see you again, Bruce." A squat, chubby man hurried forward to shake Bruce's hand.
Bruce smiled, shaking his hand. "Glad you could make it, Mayor Dickerson. How's the family?"
"Always happy to be invited to the home of one of Gotham's most influential citizens." Daniel Danforth Dickerson III grinned in an attempt at charm and motioned to his wife and daughter behind him. The older woman wore a black skirt and suit jacket; her graying blonde hair was piled high on top of her head. She ushered forward her blushing daughter whose outfit mirrored her own.
"Bruce, darling, you've never met our daughter, have you," Ann Dickerson simpered. "Natalie's just a couple years younger than you… I thought it would be so wonderful for you two to meet." Ann smiled broadly while the younger Dickerson seemed to be trying to hide behind her own curtain of blonde hair.
"Oh yes," the Mayor pitched in. "I know you'll get along just wonderfully, Bruce." Bruce smiled at the three of them and fought the overwhelming urge to run away. He could face the lowest of Gotham's villains, but overzealous matchmakers were what truly terrified him.
"...the police are beginning to believe they might be working together to wreak their havoc on us," a high nasal voice caught Bruce's attention.
"I'd believe that," a deep male voice responded. "All these psychos seem to be in league to ruin our city."
A third voice chimed in. "It is rather convenient that Batman hasn't caught The Joker yet."
"...so what do you think, Bruce?" Ann asked him, bringing him back to their conversation.
"I'm sorry, Ann. What was that?"
Ann sighed cheerfully and, in a polite if slightly patronizing tone, repeated her question. "Would you like to have a dance with our little Natalie later this evening?"
Bruce widened his smile into his most charming. This is going to be a very long night.
A/N: I always enjoy the suspense-filled chapters best (for writing and reading), but unfortunately there must be slower chapters in between. Dammit. Hope y'all enjoyed it though. Please review!