~_*_~
The knocking was constant, unabating. Knock, knock, knock, on her skull. She breifly wished for asprin, when she realized it was on the door. Moaning, Michelle stood, checking her appearance. Hyena, like always, had redressed her in her knee-length gray kitten nightie. Sufficiantly decent, she stumbled to the door and opened it, not removing the chain.
"Good morning Miss Brown." It was Alfred, Bruce Wayne's butlar. Michelle paused, blinking owlishly at him.
"C-can I help you Mister Alfred?" She hesitantly asked. He gave her a very polite grin.
"Yes, you can Miss Brown. Master Bruce wanted to invite you to beakfast this morning. Would you care to join?" He asked, all chipper and happy. Michelle paused again, struck silent.
"Sure...um... let me get dressed." She opened the door fully, allowing the sharply suited butlar in. "Please, forgive the mess, I... I have late nights."
"I understand completly. Master Bruce himself is afflicted in the same manner." Alfred answered warmly, viewing the disaster area. Michelle gave him a brief smile and disappeared into the bedroom.
She brushed her teeth, pulled back her hair in a knot, dressed in casual pants and button-up top, slipped on a pair of shoes and was back. In the ten minutes it took her to get ready, Alfred had cleaned her front room, her kitchen, and she distinctly smelled bleach from the bathroom. He was, right then, wearing her 'Kiss The Kook' apron holding a bag of garbage and looking distinctly embarassed.
"I appologise, Miss Brown. I find its a conditioned impulse." He explained sheepishly. Michelle shrugged, grinning.
"You can clean my house any time you want, Mr. Alfred." She answered cheekily. The old butlar gave her a relieved smile in return, removed the apron and escorted her, and her garbage down the stairs and outside. A long, elegant Rolls Royce took president over her sheepish looking sidewalk, gathering envious stares. Prim and proper, Alfred escorted her to her door, opened it and shut it smartly.
The ride to Wayne Manor was relatively quiet, consiting mostly of Michelle's unease at being called Miss Brown and Alfred's butlar training in polite and invisable. It was almost twenty-minutes later that he opened her door, smiling warmly, and escorted her into the imposing Manor.
Her last visit consisted of mainly the guest wing, and the door to the garage, which was huge. Now she was led through a maze of hallways, doors and rooms until finally Alfred opened a warm, walnut wood door.
"Master Bruce? A Miss Brown, as you requested sir." He announced. She shook off the oddness of being announced and side-stepped in.
Sitting at a rather large table was none other than Bruce Wayne. He was wearing what she thought was his casually-eating-at-home outfit, an ash-gray cashmier long-sleeved shirt and coal black slacks. It probably cost no less than five-thousand dollars. The table was groaning under the weight of about a million covered trays, each emiting tempting and seductive aromas. Bruce's warm brown eyes lit up, his full, sensual lips curved as he beconed her in.
"Ah, Miss Brown. Can I call you Michelle?" He asked. Michelle sat across from him and nodded. "Good, and you must call me Bruce. Everyone does, except for that old dodger."
"Old dodger indeed, Master Bruce. Must I remind you who irons your shorts, sir? Perhaps a little starch is in order?" Alfred came back sweetly. Michelle held back a laugh as Bruce appologised to his own butlar. After the little show, Alfred actually clapped his hands and a little round maid appeared. Literally appeared, like from thin air.
She popped around, removing lids and both her and Alfred fille dup the three plates that Michelle and Bruce had each. When they left as quickly as they came, she was left staring dow at three plates piled high with every berakfast food known to mankind.
"Don't be intimidated by it." Bruce suggested wisely. Michelle gave him a half grin.
"Obviously you've never met a twenty-year old girl, eh, Mr. Bruce?" She laughed, before begining on a stack a pancakes as tall as her hand. He laughed back, and for several minutes they ate in companionable silence. As he noticed her slow down, Bruce nodded slightly.
"So, Michelle, where do you work?" He asked casually.
"Several places. Technically I'm hired as mechanic, librarian, and nurse, but you can't quote me on that. It changes." She answered, after swallowing a big bite of biscuits and gravy. He nodded.
"Understandable. How have you been, actually? Any more fainting episodes?" Bruce straightened as she pointed her fork at him and looked him dead in the eye.
"I didn't faint, I passed out. Only big-breasted blondes being rescued by Superman and/or Batman faint. I was dignified." She warned him, half-jokingly. He laughed in response. Then she lost her amusement. "I think I'm okay. I mean... weird dreams seem to take up most of the oddness but other than that..."
"Weird dreams?" He kept his tone lightly interested and kept on eating his bacon. Michelle shrugged, setting her fork down.
"Yea, I've been having them for a while. If you noticed by newest fashion fad." She motioned to the three faded scratches on her cheek. "I was in the attack on the Park by Joker. His blasted hyena's got to me. I checked out of the hospital fine, so I guess I'm okay. Only now..."
"Now?" Bruce's intent eyes met hers, full of concern. Michelle bit her lip, the rubbed her shoulder absently, were the bite-marks burned a bit.
"I don't even know why I'm telling you this, Wayne. I mean, except for the fact that you're a millionair playboy who probably doesn't care, you know? But... I feel odd. Mostly weirdly lethargic, talking to myself in my head a lot more than usual. When it comes time for bed I just... drop off like that! No warning, and nothing until morning. Odd, I sleep so deeply, but I'm always so tired... Anyway, that can all be explained by stress." She shrugged it off, digging into a pile of golden eggs.
"You said you dreamed. About Joker?" He prodded further, tentatively.
"God, if only! No, I dream about running around Gotham half-naked and hunting rabbits." She laughed. "But I did dream about Joker the past few nights. And that crazy Doctor Lady who busted him out a while back? I forget her name, but they've been following me. In my dreams."
"Weirdo." He said plainly. Michelle laughed out loud, with Bruce chuckling. She sighed, feeling more relieved than she thought about telling someone. Not that she'd ever really tell them about Hyena being real, cause who would believe her? No, it was best that people believed her having nightmares rather than her insane. The next hour was spent lazily eating the remainder of breakfast and talking about neutral topics like politics, art, the latest movies and actors and actresses therein.
Over creamy cappichino, freshly made by the world's best butlar in the world, Bruce began another topic entirely.
"What do you think of the crimefighting crusader hereabouts?" He asked in an unnessesarily detached manner. Michelle shrugged,
"Everybody needs a hobby." She grinned, sipping her drink. "But truthfully I think he's a valuable asset. The very... idea of him I guess you could say, thta alone is enough to deter would-be criminals."
"What about Joker? Two-face? Riddler? These crimnials were created by Batman." Bruce argued, playing devils advocate.
"You could play that angle, but what do you think would happen if there was no Batman? You think the... the sickness and insanity of these criminals would just stop? Just because there is no man running around in a rubber suit? No, they would still be at large, and probably worse. With Batman here they're occupied, they become less than they would be. Joker was a crime boss wasn't he? How many people do you think he killed as a crime boss? I'll bet he's killed less as Joker hasn't he?" Michelle shrugged, setting down her empty cup. "I personally like him around. And the fact that he runs around in skintight buddy armor and leather? Absolutely no effect on my angle whatsoever."
Bruce laughed, shaking his head. Michelle had turned out to be clever, insightful and a sincerely funny companion. Nothing he could see in her manner was Hyena, in fact, she couldn't be less Hyena if she tried. She was honest, brutally honest in some points, with a clear easy-going attitude and few illusions about life that some girls still retained at her age. There were no hints at insanity, no little quirks and he was trying his best to get under her skin. But it was like a duck in water, slid right off her back.
"Do you have any family in Gotham, Michelle?" He asked finally, noticing her fidgeting.
"Hmm? No, no family. They're mostly back around Michigan, Iowa and Illinois. Where I lived before. But I finally moved away, looking for something I guess." She shrugged.
"Boyfriends?" He prodded further. Michelle gave him a wide, grin.
"Fishing about my personal life, Mr. Wayne?" She asked, cocking her head.
"I'm a notorious flirt, Miss Brown. Few women can stand fast against my wicked charm." He answered, grinning back. Laughing out loud, Michelle leaned back in her chair.
"Well, if you must know, I am currently unnattached. I have very little time for a full time guy, with all the billionarie playboys chasing after me." She teased, then glanced at her watch. "And now I have to run Bruce, I have work in an hour..."
"Of course, Michelle. Here, Alfred will take you home." Wayne stood, smiling nicely and shaking her hand.
"Thank you for the lovely breakfast." was her parting response. Bruce watched her dissappear out the door, and then outside.
~_*_~
It was only when she had watched the limo turn the corner did she fall to her knees, clutching her stomach. It ached, despite the good food Wayne had given her. A tearing agony ripped through her, curling her spine. Gasping in its wake, Michelle uncurled herself painfully and crawled along the dirty cement to the alley right beside her apartment door. She couldn't even imagine the stairs at this point.
Once in the relative dim safety of the alley, she curled into the wall behind a pair of trash cans and trembled. The pain had since given up on the wave metaphor, now it was constant, unending. She didn't even open her eyes when the pain forced her to void her stomache noisily on the ground. Hell, Michelle barely had enough mind-power to avoid laying in the vomit as the pain intesified.
Gasping in breath when she could, she heard nothing beyond the pounding of blood in her ears, her gaspy, wet panting, the thunder of her heart. Nothing, that was, until she detected the faint, scrabbling of small claws on asphalt. Bloodshot eyes opened wide as she watched a fat rat with wiskers boldly step up the her and sniff the former contents of her stomach.
Without consious thought her hand whipped out, quicker than light and snatched the chubby fellow denizen of Gotham's underground up. A deranged look entered her eyes as they tinged faintly yellow.
Twenty minutes later, when the pain ebbed, Michelle found herself sitting in a circle of half-masticated rat bodies, lined up around her like sacrafices to a vengeful god. Blood coated her body, her skin. It ran up her arms like macabre opera gloves, congealing into a sticky mess on her chin and stifening her clothes. Her vision grew black as she tilted her head back and screamed.
~_*_~
"What do we have here, sir?" a tired looking detective asked, looking into the drunk tank. A girl sat in the corner, wearing a set of GCPD sweats two sizes too big, face looking pale and sickly. Her face looked recently scrubbed and slightly pink tinged, as did her hands.
"Girl was found histerical, crying in an alley with rat bodies all around her." the beat cop explained, rubbing a hand over his unshaved chin. The detective, a handsome man in his late twenties with sandy-blonde hair and blue eyes, raised a brow.
"Thats all?" He asked, shaking his head.
"Well, not exactly. See, sir, the bodies were all half eaten, and she had blood around her mouth and all over her hands." He detailed, wincing. The Dectective grimace.
"Crazies in Gotham. Anything in the blood screen?" The detective asked, reaching for a cup of coffee and sipping it. he grimaced again, almost immediently and set the cup down again.
"Nope, sir, nothing. No drugs, no alcohal. She's clean, through and through." They began moving to the door. Then the beat cop added, almost tiredly. "Its a minor offense, cruelty to animals, and even that won't hold up. I hear that pregnant women sometimes get strange cravings."
"Yea, I heard that too. So, put your comforting face on." The detective let a smile cover his lips and opened the door. The girl's head snapped up and her wide, clear gray eyes me his.
"Hello Ms. Cavlin. Im Officer Browning and this is Detective Lancers." Officer Browning said easily, speaking slowly and calmly. Michelle looked up tiredly.
"So, are you sending me to Arkham?" She asked resignedly. It seemed she'd already come to this conclusion by herself. Detective Lancers, surprised by the odd prettiness she held and her blunt, no-nonsense way of speaking laughed a little.
"No, no, Miss. Nothing as drastic as that. Your blood results came back clean, so, you're free to go. We can set up an appointment for a psycho-analysis if you feel you need it but other than that..." Lancers shrugged, smiling charmingly. The girl frowned, then stood. He noticed suddenly how pink and beautiful her skin was, how bright and sharp her eyes were. She was in perfect health. Those rats did her good.
"Nothing was odd in the blood screen?" She repeated, questioningly. He shook his head.
"Nothing odd, or unseemly, or strange. You know, some girls get odd cravings when they're... in the family way." he added delicately. The girl couldn't stop the grin from blooming on her face.
"I doubt thats the answer, officer, but i'll make sure when i get home." She answered, still smiling, but her eyes were... haunted. Lancers returned her smile and assisted her out of the drunk tank and into a cab, before returning to his deck to fill out a report.
~_*_~
"Alfred." batman whispered, in his dark voice. The butlar appeared from just around the corner, duster in his hand.
"yes sir?" he answered, coming closer. Batman was seated in front of his computer, and a police report was pulled up on the screens. One screen showed a series of photos the other a written report. The photos depicted a girl, covered in blood. A terribly familiar girl. Alfred gasped. "My God. What happened to her?"
"She was found in the alley beside her apartment. Aparently ate several dozen rats alive before the police found her, screaming her head off." Batman summed the report up quietly.
"Good lord." Alfred managed, sincing as he saw the half-masticated rat body pictured on the first screen. "What did they make of it?"
"Possible psychosis. No prior history of it, so they let her go." Batman scrolled down and shook his head.
"Perhaps... master Wayne, with the current changes going through ehr body at the moment, she cannot handle cooked foods?" Alfred finally offered.
"Its a possibility." Batman pulled up a site on hyenas and began researching.
~_*_~
