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Chapter 3: Fear
"It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live."- Marcus Aurelius
Neither the playboy billionaire nor superhero vigilante seemed to be present in the chaos surrounding the crime scene. It was simply Bruce Wayne that pushed through the crowd amidst the whispers of "Wonder Woman" that assaulted his ears. A growing feeling of dread took him back thirty years to another night and another crime scene. Just as the realization of the emotional parallels between the two nights hit his consciousness, the Bat took over. The focus of the World's Greatest Detective was needed, even beneath the mask a drunken playboy.
He tried to force himself to focus on the fact that it was unlikely to be her lying there. Although not invulnerable, she was immortal and a class A meta-human. It was difficult for him to comprehend a scenario that could lead to this.
It took every ounce of willpower in him to continue that drunken playboy façade. He attempted to push through the crime scene, stumbling through the yellow crime scene tape. Bumping into Gotham's finest, "Oops, sorry boys, I can't seem to find my limo."
He was immediately surrounded by several members of the Gotham City Police Department. "Sorry Mr. Wayne, we can't let you through here. This is a crime scene."
The group was quickly joined by Commissioner Jim Gordon, who pulled Bruce aside, speaking loudly. "Sorry Mr. Wayne, but we can't let anyone but authorized personnel through this area. You will need to go around. This way." With a tilt of the head, he indicated that he should be followed.
Bruce trailed close behind, although his gaze never left the woman lying on the street. As soon as they were out of earshot of the officers, Gordon stopped and turned. At the moment, Batman was unconcerned at that moment that he was about to confirm what were likely long-held suspicions regarding Bruce Wayne's nighttime activities. Although his eye remained fixed on the now sheet-covered body lying on the street, he asked the question. "Is it her, Jim?"
Walking still further away from the officers and the crowd, Gordon lowered his voice. "We don't know."
Batman turned away from the street and from behind Bruce Wayne's ice blue eyes locked onto those of the Commissioner in silent communication. It's Wonder Woman. How do you not know?
Gordon looked away from the cold stare, back toward the crime scene. "Ok. It will take fingerprints, DNA or dental records to make a positive ID. Since we don't have any of those things from Wonder Woman, I called in to have the signal go up. We'll need to have the help of Batman or the Justice League to determine if it's her or not. They are about to move her to the morgue." He paused. "You can't tell by looking at her who it is. Her face is unrecognizable. Whoever killed her, carved her up pretty good. "
Carved her up. Bruce's gaze fixed again at the sheet-covered form lying on the asphalt.
Carved her up… Carved her up…
"Master Bruce?" Having overheard the last part of the conversation, Alfred's voice broke through his reverie of despair. "Perhaps we should return to the Manor and let the police do their jobs?"
Bruce closed his eyes, steeling himself, "Thank you Alfred, lead the way." He nodded, "Commissioner."
As soon as the door to the limo closed behind him, Bruce held a hand to an electric panel that scanned his fingerprints to open up a compartment in the floor. He hastily removed its contents and pulled on his suit and cowl.
He immediately activated the comlink inside his cowl. "Batman to Watchtower."
Shayera was currently on monitor duty and answered his call. "Watchtower."
"Wonder Woman's current location."
"She asked not to be disturbed."
"Current. Location."
Not easily intimidated by Batman, something in his tone made Shayera comply with the request.
"Standby…" She scanned the large screen in front of her. "Unable to trace location of comlink. Last known location was over Atlantic Ocean, presumably en route to Themyscira."
Silence.
"Batman?"
"Do your job. Monitor. Check the Gotham news feeds. Batman out."
Shayera quickly called up the Gotham news reports. "Watchtower to Superman."
Having driven to a secure location where Batman could exit the limo without being seen, Alfred addressed his charge with concern. "Sir, should I contact Master Dick or Master Tim to assist?"
"No. We don't know anything yet. Dick should stay in Bludhaven. Tim can cover patrol as usual. You can have Oracle can pull any available surveillance footage from outside the hotel. I will brief everyone when I return to the cave."
"Bruce?"
"No, Alfred. It's not her." He tried to sound convincing. He tried to sound convinced. "It can't be. Send the batmobile to the secure Five Points location."
Batman stepped from the limo and shot off his grapple, making his way across the city to the roof of Gotham City's Violent Crime Unit.
Mid-route, his comlink was activated from the Watchtower. "Superman to Batman"
"Not now."
"Now now? Have you completely lost your mind? What the hell is happening?"
"I don't think it's her. I'll be in contact. Do something useful and look for her. Batman out."
Jim Gordon stood waiting on the roof of the GCPD building, next to the huge spotlight they used to call in Batman. He hadn't turned around or heard a sound, but he spoke anyway knowing from experience that he was no longer alone.
"They've brought her in." Never turning around, Commissioner Gordon silently walked to roof access and down the many flights of stairs to the basement level where the Gotham City Morgue was housed. Wordlessly Batman followed.
Each individual they passed looked away as the two made their way to the forensic unit. Gotham City's Coroner, a middle-aged man with silver gray hair met them at the door. Upon entering the sterilized room, the coroner's young assistant pulled white coverings over their clothing. Batman pulled off the gauntlet on his right hand and allowed him to apply a blue nitrile glove.
He walked over to the silver metal table, draped in a white sheet. He first slid his hand under the side of the sheet, finding the woman's hand. He gently lifted it, out from under the sheet. He gazed for a moment at the long, smooth fingers before placing it gently back on the table and covering it with the sheet.
Reaching across to his left, he grasped the sheet at the top, slowly lifting it away from the woman's head. Another smaller white cloth lay across the woman's face, presumably to cover the damage that had been inflicted.
He did not touch the cloth covering on her face, but lifted the sheet higher, just enough to survey the length of woman underneath. There were no visible lacerations. He took note of the tiny flaws and imperfections on the expanse of skin now void of the red, white, and blue uniform. Carefully he lowered the sheet back to its original position.
In a barely seen glimpse of emotion, the blue gloved hand gripped the edge of the exam table as the shoulders beneath the cape slumped slightly and ragged breath was taken.
"Batman?" Gordon's voice was tense.
The Dark Knight stood, back straight and head up. "Cause of death?"
"Don't know yet," replied the Coroner. "The lacerations on her face were inflicted pre-mortem, but none appear deep enough to be fatal. There's another laceration on the small of her back. We're not sure, but it looks like the number 7. Also shallow, not fatal. Hopefully the autopsy will tell us."
Batman turned, walked toward the exit, stripping off the glove and white protective garment as he went. He tossed them into the trash next to the door. Without turning back toward the commissioner and Coroner, he spoke. "Run your fingerprints, dental records, and DNA. It's not her." He then strode out the door, cape billowing behind him.
Close on his heels, the commissioner called out to him. "Wait. How do you know it's not her?"
Batman stopped short, turned and stared down the man he considered a friend. "I've known Wonder Woman for years. She has no physical imperfections. Her skin is flawless. Every inch."
Commissioner James Gordon accepted that conclusion without question decided not to think about how exactly Batman would know how flawless every inch of Wonder Woman was.
As fast as his human body would take him, Batman found his way back to the batmobile and raced back to the cave at breakneck speed.
He stopped on the turntable inside the cave, exited the car and barely made it to the chair at the computer before his control finally cracked. The adrenaline that had kept him focused and calm over the last hour dissipated completely. As the intense sense of relief washed over him, he began to tremble, then shake uncontrollably. He pushed back the cowl and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the cool metal desk.
A few moments later, a cup of hot coffee was placed beside him and Bruce felt Alfred's hand on his shoulder.
Batman sat up. "It's not her."
A sigh escaped the older gentleman. "Thank God. Master Bruce, how are you holding up?"
"I'm fine. I just need to see her. They still don't know where she is."
At that precise moment, his Justice League comlink activated. "Superman to Batman."
"Batman here."
"She just teleported up to the Watchtower."
"Does she know anything?"
"I don't think so. She said she was going to her quarters."
"Good. Don't tell her. I'm coming up. Batman out."
It wasn't necessary to tell her at that moment, it could wait until the next day. But he needed to see her. He needed to satisfy that part of him that wouldn't be completely convinced she was fine until he was able to see her with his own eyes.
He walked to the teleportation pad and punched in the coordinates to the Watchtower. Briefly meeting Alfred's eyes, he vanished in a flash of light.
It wasn't often that Diana spent the night on the Watchtower. She had an apartment in New York and the embassy in Washington, DC. It was late when she checked back in from her brief holiday. She decided to stay rather than fly or transport back to Earth rather than risk disturbing her sister Donna in New York or the other residents at the Themyscira Embassy.
She also knew that there was another reason. The real reason. She wanted some solitude, time to think about how to disengage from her preoccupation with Bruce Wayne.
After showering, she slipped between her white Egyptian cotton sheets. Sleep was slow to come as she lie there in the dimly lit room, her mind struggling with the knowledge that she needed to move on, but with her heart lacking the desire to do so. Her conversation at a coffee shop in North Carolina and another with Alfred the day prior, had only left her with a stronger desire to push through the steel curtain that Bruce Wayne had erected to protect him emotionally from the world and from himself.
Finally Diana drifted off into a restless sleep.
Batman silently entered the dimly lit room and approached her bed. He knelt beside it as he pushed back his cowl and removed his gloves. He allowed himself to watch her sleep for several minutes before he reached out and brushed a lock of black hair away from her forehead. Then he gently traced a finger along the cheekbone of her perfect, beautiful face.
Diana's opened her eyes to find herself looking directly into Bruce's ice blue ones. He gazed back at her with an oddly soft expression. She didn't know why he was here, but somehow she knew it wasn't for the reason she hoped. Something was amiss; she pulled the sheet snugly around her bare skin.
"Why are you here, Bruce?" Even with what had transpired between them when they had last spoken, her voice was filled with genuine concern.
He picked up and held her hand in much the same way that he had done earlier that evening in the Gotham City Morgue. "Princess, there was a murder in Gotham tonight."
With even more concern in her voice she whispered, "I'm sorry Bruce… someone we know?"
"They don't know who it is yet."
Diana was confused. She knew that Bruce took each and every death in his city personally. However, it would take more than the murder of a stranger to prompt him to come to her in this way. "That wouldn't bring you here. You have more to tell me."
"Yes." He got up, sat on the edge of the bed next to her, and recounted the events of the evening.
"Someone wanted the public to think I'd been killed? Why?"
Bruce shrugged. "There are many possibilities. It could be someone obsessed with you. It might be someone wanting to send a message."
"What message? To whom?"
"I can't answer that yet."
"Bruce, I still don't understand why you came here now. I would have expected you to be in full detective mode in Gotham trying to solve this, calling an emergency Founder's meeting first thing in the morning."
He stood up and replaced his cowl. He walked to the door and paused briefly without turning. "I needed to see you." Offering her no further explanation, he left and returned to the cave to begin the work of finding out who had done this and why.