I lied. I promised some Batman action...well, that's still happening, but next chapter. This one got long and I broke it up decided to go ahead and get this one posted. Chapter 5 shouldn't take long though since it was envisioned to join this one.
Thanks to all who have reviewed and given me all the positive feedback. I appreciate every one, keep it up!
A/N: I do not own Batman or any other characters affiliated with DC Comics.
The grand opening for the Harvey Dent Memorial Hospital was already in full swing by the time eight rolled around and by all appearances it was going to be quite the spectacle.
Ironically enough, it wasn't actually the grand opening of anything. Just another gala where the new hospital could raise even more money for their already top of the line facilities.
The main wings had been completed and would be accepting patients within a week, but the buildings the Thomas and Martha Wayne Foundation were donating as well as the administration center and parking structure wouldn't be finished for at least another month.
Apparently that was still cause enough to celebrate.
The red carpet had been rolled out downtown at the towering Plaza Hotel for the occasion and the tabloid photographers were out in full force, lining up and greeting each arriving guest with a blinding show of flash bulbs.
It was all excessive and, to Bruce, incredibly annoying.
It had been a week and a half since the massacre in Robinson Park and the streets had been unnervingly quiet in its wake, even the most hardened individuals apparently cowed by the brutality of what had occurred. The normal street crime and small time mob turf scuffles could still be counted on, but following something the scale of the 'Birthday Party Bloodbath' the relative calm was unsettling.
Bruce kept the mask of the indifferent womanizer firmly in place, smiling and nodding to the assorted photographers as they shouted at him.
Inside though his mind raced, mentally reviewing all the information and theories he had for the hundredth time. Something still didn't feel right, he could feel that much in his gut.
First, there were the five matching vehicles behind the assault, none of which were one of the two dozen Odessa vehicles the Batman currently had trackers on. True, they could have simply not used any of those vehicles as a matter of chance, but Bruce didn't think so. That would be some coincidence.
Then, there was the relatively obscure and expensive Romanian made shell casings that had been recovered at the scene. Because the weapons had been fired inside the vehicles very few of the brass cylinders had been recovered at the scene and it had taken quite a bit of legwork for Bruce to find the one that had rolled and fallen into the storm drain beneath one of the vehicles. It wasn't ammunition you simply went out and bought. Hell, it couldn't even be found in Gotham. Not in any quantity anyway. It meant someone knew what they were doing.
Add those facts to the points Gordon had made about their tactics and something seemed...off.
As hard as someone had tried to make this seem like mob retaliation, they may have made some small mistakes. Hopefully, mistakes that could eventually paint a bigger picture and lead him to the real people responsible.
Bruce frowned, the playboy facade cracking for only an instant.
He hadn't been able to find Marko Kazan either, the man was apparently talented at staying off his radar. He'd been searching for him almost nightly as the Batman, foregoing some of his other, usual patrols. Attempting to find the man everyone assumed responsible for the heinous act, but who Bruce was feeling more and more certain had been set to take a fall by parties unknown.
"Brucie?"
His thoughts broken, Bruce looked down at the woman who currently had both her arms wrapped around his. She looked back, batting her eyelashes and flashing him a toothy smile.
"C'mon. I wanna go inside!"
Inwardly he rolled his eyes. They'd been standing outside the hotel entry having questions shouted at them by the assorted press for the last five minutes. All so that this apparently well known pop singer, Paige-something, could mug and pose for pictures on the arm of one of the world's most eligible bachelors.
She was beautiful, in her sparkling, deep red, floor length gown and tightly styled blond hair. She also hadn't said anything remotely interesting since he'd picked her up. Apparently she was the next star to come out of some insipid reality show and her people had been clamoring for them to go on a date for some time now.
Alfred had really outdone himself this time. Bruce was already planning ways to lose her in the crowd once they'd successfully made it inside.
He sighed and allowed himself a small smile, the corners of his mouth barely quirking up. "Lead the way."
Fifteen minutes later, his date for the evening having been effectively escaped Bruce wandered the main ballroom, a full flute of champagne that he'd never drink gradually warming in his hand. The music from a string quartet drifted through the air, just barely louder than the buzz of conversation taking place in the cavernous room. He was trying his best to mingle with the rest of the social elite of Gotham, but itched to be elsewhere.
If he had to hear about Burton Imports' newest acquisitions one more time...
"Mister Wayne?"
Bruce grinned and turned to find Lucius coming up next to him.
"Mister Fox." He nodded, shaking his friend's hand. "Having a good time?"
"About as good a time as you are I'd imagine. I must say, I'm surprised to find you here. Given your normal nighttime activities I thought you'd be...elsewhere."
"Alfred threatened to hide my car keys if I didn't do something...social."
The older man chuckled at that. "Alfred is a very smart man. Very stubborn too," he said, the two of them falling into comfortable silence, watching those around them enjoy the night. The music had continued and several couples had begun slowly dancing near the center of the room, beneath a sparkling, ornate crystal chandelier.
"You know you still haven't come by to see the new toys I have for you to play with."
"Well, you know how it is, Mister Fox," Bruce said, gesturing to include the entire room. "Apparently, I'm a very important man and other important people have important things to discuss with me. I just don't know where the time goes."
"Mmhmm." He nodded knowingly. "Actress?" Lucius was looking back over Bruce's shoulder now, towards the far corner of the room where Bruce knew he'd left his date chatting with a small throng of eager men.
"Pop-star."
"That sounds about right." Lucius was grinning, obviously enjoying Bruce's discomfort. "Be sure to let me know when you want to see them though. I know you're not much of a dog person and I've got a couple of things I really think you'll like."
"It's really not about what I like so much as it seems like they really have it in for me."
Lucius smiled. "I see. Have you tried dog biscuits?" Bruce laughed. Fox jerked his head in the direction of the food and Bruce nodded. Together they casually started making their way through the densely clustered crowds.
"How're things coming along with the manor?"
"Hoping to move back in in a matter of weeks actually. At least that's what they tell me." Bruce leaned in closer and whispered. "You'll be happy to know the...sub-basement is almost done too."
Lucius raised an eyebrow as he looked at the younger man out of the corner of his eye. "Is it now. That certainly couldn't have been easy, Mister Wayne."
"It's a labor of love." Bruce shrugged.
"Love? Probably not the term I'd choose." Fox glanced up over Bruce's shoulder and seemed to notice something in the crowd. After briefly pursing his lips in thought he turned back to the younger man. "Come on, I've got someone you might be interested in meeting."
Bruce allowed himself to be led past the merrily twirling dancers and over towards the monstrous, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the tranquilly twinkling lights of the city and the distant blackness of the Atlantic Ocean beyond. The appetizer tables had been set up beneath them, dressed up in rich, dark red silk cloth and covered in extravagant displays of flowers. Tastefully positioned between the explosions of foliage were artfully arranged servings of vegetables, cheeses, and hot and cold delicacies on shining silver platters being promptly serviced by at least a dozen employees in tuxedos.
Lucius was approaching a man and woman standing off to the side of the heavily laden tables and out of the way of most of the throngs of party guests.
The man appeared to be in his mid forties and dressed in a fashionable, but ordinary dark, pinstriped suit. He was tall, not quite as tall as Bruce, but above average, and bald, with a full, graying beard and thick rimmed, round eyeglasses that hid highly intelligent dark eyes. He was just finishing amicably chatting with one of the doctors Bruce recognized from previous hospital fundraisers as they approached, genially clapping the man on the back and laughing at some unknown joke as they parted.
The woman, by comparison, was a complete contrast to her companion, timidly trying to hide behind him. From what Bruce could see she was extremely short, barely even rising to Bruce's shoulders, and probably far younger than her rather ordinary appearance made her seem. Wearing a simple, plain black dress that was probably one or two sizes too large and hung off her unflatteringly, she had her blond hair pulled back into a professional, but messy bun, brushing the bangs out of her eyes self consciously and eyeing the surrounding people warily from behind fashionable wireframe glasses.
Lucius waved at them as they approached before greeting the pair and making introductions. "Bruce Wayne, Doctor Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum," Bruce shook the offered hand.
He'd reviewed the files on all of the Arkham personnel following the discovery that Crane had been using it as his personal laboratory. From his file Strange came across as both a brilliant doctor and administrator. Having taught at several universities and served on the board of multiple hospitals he had come highly recommended for the job. Rumor had it that the Gotham police were even informally utilizing his expertise to form a profile for the Batman.
There had been no obvious red flags that Bruce had been able to detect, but admittedly Jonathan Crane's record had been absent of any illicit activities before he'd joined Ra's al Ghul. That certainly hadn't stopped him.
"And this...is...," Lucius gestured towards the other stranger, the woman, in expectation, obviously having never met her before.
She fidgeted nervously, but eventually shook Bruce's offered hand, looking up at him uncertainly through her bangs. "Dr. Harleen Quinzel, Chief of Psychological Study and Treatment at Arkham Asylum."
"Hi there," Bruce said, giving them both what he knew was a wide, disarming smile. "I hope you're both enjoying our little party?"
They both nodded and smiled politely, one more enthusiastically than the other. Of the two, Dr. Strange seemed far more sure of himself, perhaps not quite used to the level of opulence of this particular evening, but confident enough at least to carry on a friendly conversation.
Dr. Quinzel, on the other hand, would probably have been far more comfortable in a lab coat analyzing a patient than anywhere near a gathering like this that found her sipping champagne and making small talk with the Bruce Wayne.
He plastered on his best vacant grin, deciding they'd view him as less of a threat if he played up the absent billionaire. "Wait, so, your name is Strange and you run an asylum? That's umm...kind of ironic."
The man grimaced slightly. Obviously he'd heard that one before. He'd probably had people making fun of his name all his life. Wanting to save the doctor from having to respond to the juvenile comment Bruce continued.
"So, exactly how are things in the Narrows these days?" This time he got the reaction, the doctor's eyes lighting up.
"Things are well, Mr. Wayne. Well, as good as can be expected. Thanks in no small part to you and your company of course." He gestured to Bruce and Lucius and took a sip from the champagne flute in his hand. "Arkham was certainly in chaos following the release of so many patients, but I think we're finally getting things operating smoothly again."
Bruce arched his eyebrow. "Me and my company?" His confusion turned rapidly to surprise when it was Lucius, not the doctor, who answered.
"You really ought to read your memos," he half chuckled, half scolded. "The Wayne Foundation provided Arkham Asylum with a grant over a year and a half ago to repair and update their facility. We figured it benefited Gotham if we helped prevent another escape like the one Dr. Crane allowed to happen."
Bruce nodded. Increased security in Arkham would mean a safer, more secure location to lock away the criminals he was sweeping up. It also raised several questions. Would he have access to their systems as Batman? Did the Wayne Foundation provide a similar grant to Gotham's aging Blackgate Prison? The questions would have to wait until later, at which point he'd also have to thank Lucius for having the foresight to take such actions.
Bruce noticed a knowing glint in the older man's eye but ignored it and turned back to the two doctors. "And how are the updates coming? I hope our money was put to good use."
"Oh, they've been put to very good use, Mister Wayne. Unfortunately, Arkham Asylum's very old and Dr. Crane really had let portions of it suffer. Several of the buildings had to be rewired and large sections of plumbing and ventilation had to be replaced in order for us to meet city code. We have been able to reinforce a great deal of the walls though and we've revised our procedures to prevent another security breach from occurring."
"So, security's been improved?"
"Yes, yes, of course. A portion of the grant included money earmarked specifically for security measures. We installed remote operated web cameras in most areas and have been fortunate to hire a larger and more experienced security staff." Strange shrugged. "We do what we can with the resources we're provided."
"You know, I've never been out to your hospital before," Bruce said. "Maybe I should come take a look sometime, see if there's anything else we can do." Bruce figured playing to his purse strings might open up some future doors to both he and Batman. He wasn't disappointed by Strange's response when the doctor smiled greedily and nodded.
"Arkham is where the Joker is being held isn't it?" Of course, Bruce already knew that, having been partially responsible for his incarceration, but hadn't checked on him in some time and was curious to hear about the madman from the two doctors.
"Yes he is. Probably our most infamous guest now that Carmine Falcone's in Blackgate. In fact, my colleague here," he said, motioning to the mousy woman at his side, "is responsible for his ongoing treatment." The small doctor looked up, her attention in the conversation noticeably increasing.
"And is he as crazy as they say he is?"
For the first time the female doctor spoke, cutting off Strange's response and surprising Bruce with the strength in her voice, her eyes hardening at the word crazy. "Mister J is very, very...unique. He's highly intelligent, extremely charismatic, fiercely motivated and can be almost single minded in accomplishing his goals, ready to resort to both violence and generosity to accomplish them..."
"Mister J?"
Dr. Quinzel rolled her eyes. "We try to refer to our patients using familiar terms," she explained, "rather than nicknames or titles. Since we don't know his given name and he has yet to share it with us we call him Mister J. It's a common way to help disassociate someone from an alter ego or persona they've taken on. Or to simply disconnect them from their previous lives." She smiled then, barely detectable. "It creates an atmosphere more conducive to treatment and self discovery for the patient."
"And you think that the Joker," Lucius asked, his eyebrows raised, "could be a persona that he's taken on?"
Strange opened his mouth to respond, but was again cut off by the small woman. She nodded. "It's possible. He's being very cooperative and we're always gaining new insights into his disorders. It's likely that there's layers of psychosis we need to peel back. Once we eventually fill in the gaps we may have a clearer picture of who the true person really is."
"So, you think that he can be cured?"
"Psychology is not an exact science and mental illness is not something that can simply be cured like any normal virus. It could take years of comprehensive treatment and therapy to even begin to scratch the surface, but he is a dynamic human being that deserves our help."
"C'mon, he killed people," Bruce scoffed. The incredulity in his voice wasn't fake. "Are you going to tell me he wasn't responsible? That you're not afraid of him?"
Dr. Quinzel dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand as though the entire concept was foreign. "He wouldn't hurt me," she said, her eyes softening. "Yes, he did kill people, but responsibility at this point is inconclusive. Granted, it's not meant to defend his actions, but for all we know he could be a victim in this too."
At the mention of the Joker as a victim Strange seemed to realize the uncomfortable direction the conversation had taken between his chief therapist and two of his largest financial supporters and quickly stepped in, interrupting his colleague.
"Yes, it's very fascinating work. Doctor Quinzel is actually working to publish a paper on the subject," he said, before chuckling nervously. "I just wish she'd give the rest of our patients the kind of attention she affords our little celebrity." He turned to the shorter woman, not bothering to hide the glare he was sending her. "Doctor, I'm sure Mister Wayne and Mister Fox have better things to do than talk to us all night about our patients. Let's not take up all their time."
Surprisingly, she returned her superior's withering look, staring defiantly up at him. Gone was the nervous, reserved little woman that they'd been introduced too, obviously having not appreciated the quick dismissal. For his part, Dr. Strange seemed taken aback by her glare as well, but adamantly refused to back down.
And then she smiled.
It was a small smile, the corners of her lips barely perking up, but the malevolence it contained as she glared at him clearly stunned the taller man. The soft, hesitant look her eyes had contained was turned to fire, hardening them in twisted glee.
"Certainly, Doctor," she said through gritted teeth and one creepy little smile.
Finally, hesitantly she turned back towards Bruce, the glow still very evident in her eyes.
"Thank you for the lovely evening, Mister Wayne." She turned to Lucius. "Mister Fox." She nodded her head once, quickly, and then turned on her heal and stomped away, towards the nearest exit.
The three men watched after her, Dr. Strange shaking his head and very obviously struggling to keep a genial facade in place in front of the two wealthy men. He turned back to Bruce, plastering an apologetic but strained smile on his face in the process. "I truly do hope you'll come visit us sometime, Mister Wayne. I'd be more than happy to give you a tour personally." He hurriedly shook Bruce's hand and turned to Lucius, quickly shaking his as well. "Until then, if you'll excuse me gentlemen." Strange gave them a last little half bow before hurrying after his quietly fuming colleague.
Bruce and Fox silently watched him leave.
"Well, you certainly know how to liven up an evening, Lucius."
The older man smiled. "I do what I can Mister Wayne. I do what I can," he said, looking back towards the doorway the two doctors had exited through. "Although I'm not entirely sure what just happened."
"I don't know. Something that might be worth keeping an eye on?" Bruce asked, more a question to himself than to Lucius. The Joker had manipulated and twisted people before. It wouldn't be out of character.
For his part Fox remained silent, deep in thought, both of them now turned and looking blankly over the crowd. After a moment of quiet Bruce remembered the line of questioning he had for his friend from earlier. "So, when were you going to tell me about Arkham?"
Fox smiled, still looking at the crowd. "I didn't expect I'd have to. Imagine my surprise when you didn't beat me to it. You must be slipping, Mister Wayne."
"And Blackgate?"
"The same. In fact we were able to..."
Lucius never got the opportunity to finish his thought.
"Bruce Wayne!"
Bruce rolled his eyes at the unwelcome interruption and at the person behind the instantly recognizable voice, looking to his right to find Brandon Thorne rapidly approaching.
Vice President of Thorne Construction, Brandon had personally chosen himself to oversee the construction of the pediatrics wing after winning the bidding war. Headaches and daily interruptions had commenced shortly thereafter for all involved.
Son of Rupert Thorne, CEO of Thorne Industries, Brandon had been specifically placed to minimize his involvement in his father's empire, his father fearing for his company's financial well being should his youngest son gain any real power. The elder Thorne contented himself in the knowledge that Brandon could only effect his contracting firm's bottom line...and the Wayne Foundation's new child care unit.
"Brandon." Bruce allowed himself a brief pleasantry, quickly shaking the other man's hand. Gesturing to the ongoing party around them he continued. "I hope to attend one of these for our own little project in a couple months."
Thorne balked, obviously uncertain as to how to answer the innocent statement. "Listen, Mister Wayne, you know a lot goes into projects of this...scale. That's why I wanted to come over here and talk to you." He paused nervously and absently played with the knot of his tie. "You see, there's bound to be certain setbacks and unforeseen hurdles..."
"And what hurdles," Lucius asked, "have managed to trip up Thorne Construction this time?"
Thorne was clearly taken aback by the older man's question and tone, stuttering something about timing and schedules between the concrete curing and the steel framework. Fox, for his part was looking completely unamused by the current turn in the conversation. Having to deal personally with his excuses and failings on a near daily basis Lucious was clearly over being patient with the man.
Bruce, for his part, was largely ignoring the ongoing debate and was instead watching over Brandon's shoulder at the beautiful, dark haired woman that was striding up to his side.
Bruce Wayne didn't stare at just any woman. He was Bruce Wayne after all. He was here with someone who was simultaneously a Billboard top ten recording artist and one of Maxim's twenty-five sexiest. Women practically flocked to him.
But, here he was. Staring. Intently.
The woman was tall, probably only a couple inches under six feet in her heels, her flawless face barely touched by makeup and framed by closely cropped black hair. Dressed in a shoulder-less black dress that adhered to her athletic curves and flowed to her ankles, her stride exposing long, athletic legs through the long slit traveling up its side. Black, elbow length gloves that clung to slender, toned arms completed the stylish ensemble and was tastefully adorned with simple, glittering jewelry.
She had an air about her, a grace and confidence that most people in this crowd lacked. It was a sureness in herself, in her own abilities. It was a confidence that Bruce was sure he shared when he wasn't acting his part.
She slid next to Thorne quietly, startling him when she threaded her arm through his and comically looking down at him, a slight smile on her face when he jumped and half turned towards her. Brandon shot her an apologetic look, slightly tilting his head and shrugging before she finally turned to face Bruce.
He was met with a pair of beautiful, alert green eyes. The woman seemed to take in Bruce, analyzing him, her eyes softening and dancing with intelligence and humor for a brief moment before the ongoing conversation between Fox and Thorne hardened them again. She tugged slightly at her beau's arm, drawing his attention to her again.
"Sorry babe. I really gotta talk to Mister Fox about this. I know, I said no business tonight, but I only need five minutes and I'll be done. Promise."
She glared at him. A look full of irritation and well contained anger, passion flaring briefly through her eyes. It was lucky Brandon wasn't paying attention to the beauty because, had he been, he'd undoubtedly have been skewered by the daggers she was throwing his way.
After several seconds of being ignored the woman rolled her eyes and released a sigh, removing her hand from Thorne's arm and finally looking back to Bruce. "So, what's your story?" she asked, her words laced with sarcasm and annoyance.
"Sorry?" he replied. He'd been paying attention to her, but still managed to be taken slightly off guard by the directness of her question. No pleasantries. No introductions. Apparently not the usual haughty, pretentious type that lived for the stilted, empty conversations that he always seemed to get dragged into.
"Boy, that prep school money really went to waste, didn't it?" She rolled her eyes again exaggeratedly, this time at Bruce. "Okay, little words." Leaning condescendingly towards him, she made sure to clearly enunciate each word. "I can either pretend to be interested in them," she flicked her head to where Lucius and Thorne were deep in conversation, oblivious of the two of them, "or I can pretend to be interested in you. Thankfully, you're at least easy on the eyes," she said, shrugging indifferently.
"I guess I should be happy to be useful." Bruce grinned.
Far from being insulted, he was actually pleasantly surprised at her reaction. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been ignored, much less the last time he'd gone unrecognized. Probably not since he'd gone to Hong Kong on an errand for Harvey Dent. Anonymity was refreshing from the usual fawning he immediately elicited from everyone he met.
"Not from around here are you?"
That caught her slightly off guard. Judging by the confused look on her face the question combined with Bruce's knowing smirk had thrown her a little. She was slow to respond, her eyes narrowing and brow furrowing in response. "How'd you know that?"
Bruce shrugged nonchalantly. "Let's just say I'm fairly recognizable in Gotham." It was the truth. In Gotham, his likeness was plastered in the papers and on television pretty much weekly. You'd practically have to be a shut-in to be from this city and not know his face.
"Well, apparently someone's got a bit of an ego." The mocking look and condescending tone were back in full force. "Must come with the trust fund."
Apparently she believed his claim though. Despite her words she was looking him up and down again, her eyes sharp, slowly and appraisingly taking in every detail while she unsuccessfully tried to figure out why she should know him.
Her smile didn't fade, but her eyes hardened noticeably in frustration when her analysis didn't provide her with an answer.
Bruce nodded in agreement at her jab, schooling his features to feign seriousness. "It comes along with the sense of entitlement," he replied.
The corner of her lip twitched, the faintest hint of a smile threatening to spread across her face. "You're not going to tell me who you are, are you?"
Bruce held up his hands in apology. "Sorry," he chuckled, making a game of it. "Guess it's just nice to enjoy some anonymity for once. Don't suppose you're going to tell me your name either then?"
"You're not the only one who enjoys a little mystery," she said, smiling knowingly at him. As to what secret information she was smiling about, Bruce hadn't a clue. Not that he'd mind finding out.
"Fair enough." He shrugged slightly in acceptance. If he was going to enjoy a conversation not predicated on him being the Bruce Wayne then who was he to say he couldn't afford her the same luxury.
He really did want to know her name though.
Bruce could always ask Brandon about it later. He was pretty sure she'd be asking Thorne the same question about him the minute this little exchange had ended.
"What brings you to our charming little city?"
Her little smirk stayed on her face. "Oh, you know...a little bit of business...little bit of pleasure. Lots of...opportunities in a town like this for a clever girl like me. Besides, I hear you guys throw some great parties," she said, raising her glass to indicate the surrounding room and throngs of expensively appointed guests.
"And here I pictured you as the starry eyed country girl trying to make it big," Bruce said, smirking at the woman. "You know, seeing the big city lights for the first time, naive and innocent."
She actually snorted in response, muffling a laugh. It was a sound that was as foreign to this crowd as it was refreshing to Bruce's ears.
"I don't think I've ever been accused of being innocent before," she responded. For the last several words her voice dropped to a husky whisper, accompanied by a seductive little smile, her emerald eyes flashing with dark humor. "Usually it's quite the opposite actually."
Bruce felt the warmth start at the base of his neck and spread quickly as the flush worked its way upwards. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Brandon hadn't reacted to what she'd said, or more importantly, how she'd said it. Thankfully, he still wasn't paying attention to the two of them, his attention solely focused on a rather irritated looking Lucious Fox. Bruce was happy to avoid the added annoyance of a jealous boyfriend tonight...or whatever he was to her.
He allowed himself to chuckle as he put one hand in his pocket, gesturing to her with the one holding the champagne flute. "You're going to be right at home then here in Gotham," he said, sneaking another look at Brandon Thorne, whose father had a long history of shady dealings with questionable people, "and with this crowd."
She hadn't missed the look, following his eyes and glancing at Brandon herself.
"So, what does that make you? The only honest man in Gotham City?" she asked. Despite the accusations in her words, the voice that carried them carried surprisingly little venom. Just curiosity and the touch of dark humor and sarcasm nearly everything she said was laced with.
He let out a sharp snort at that. If she only knew. "Hardly. Maybe I'm just someone that hopes he can make a difference."
"What!" the woman said, feigning shock, even going so far as to put one hand to her chest in mock surprise. "An idealist? In Gotham City? Heh, bet that's kind of a dying breed." She looked around them again at the crowd, pointedly including Thorne in her gaze. "And here I was thinking you were just another one of the idle rich."
Bruce blinked. She'd quickly looked at Brandon when she'd said the last part, derision clear in her tone. Who was she to him? He'd called her "babe" when she'd first arrived and Bruce had assumed that they were romantically involved, but she'd exhibited no signs of even really liking the man at this point. Intriguing.
"What? Not a fan of being lazy?"
She laughed lightly, an easy, attractive sound that was easy on the ears, and shook her head back and forth. "God no. I've always gotten bored really easily." She took a slight step closer to him, cocking her head to look up at him and again breaking out the thin, sexy smile that sent a jolt up his spine. "What good is living your life without a little danger? Without a little fun and thrills?" She followed the last part with a small wink.
Bruce looked down, unwilling to meet her gaze, but fighting to remain nonchalant. He was supposed to be the womanizer, dammit. He wasn't supposed to get fidgety from some stranger's wink and a smile.
"Funny. I wouldn't have made you for a thrill seeker. Maybe a few speeding tickets, sure." He narrowed his eyes and exaggeratedly looked her over, head to toe again, making sure to skip making eye contact, for now. "Hard to see you as an adrenaline junkie though. You clean up well." He pretended to look her over again. "Sure blend in well with the...," Bruce eyed the crowd around them, full of the upper crust of Gotham, "well...with them." The mystery woman followed his look, smiling as she got his meaning, her eyes crinkling in amusement.
"I guess the same could be said for you. Since you don't seem to include yourself in their illustrious company." She stepped back to analyze him once again, disappointing Bruce at the added gap between them. "I wonder why that is? You've certainly got the look down," she said, reaching out to pinch the material of his tuxedo's jacket between her fingers. "Armani?" Bruce nodded, amused. "Very nice. Good tailoring."
She reached out again, this time taking his left arm and holding it up playfully in the light to get a better look at his wrist.
Bruce immediately felt the heat on his skin, even through her soft gloves. The warmth on his neck started again as the skin on his arm felt charged. He started, suddenly realizing he'd missed her next question, vacantly staring at her as he enjoyed the electric sensations traveling up his left arm.
Just when the hell had he reverted to his pre-adolescent days anyways? He shook his head slightly and blinked.
"Rolex?" Luckily she'd repeated it again, smiling up at him and at the very obvious distraction she'd caused.
"Oh! Um...Breitling." She smiled triumphantly at his answer, her point proven. She seemed to be waiting for his comeback, head tilted and arms crossed, delicately holding her champagne flute in her right hand.
Bruce blasted her with the full wattage of his smile. "And what brand is that trash bag you're wearing?" he asked innocently.
"This old thing?" The woman spread her arms and looked down at her dress theatrically before looking up to meet his gaze, smiling when she saw that his eyes had followed hers down...and lingered. "Oh, don't get me wrong. I enjoy my creature comforts as much as the next girl. I just can't handle their silliness for more than an hour or two. Eventually it just gets to the point where you want to scream at them."
Bruce grinned. If she only knew who she was talking to, he was sure she'd be disgusted. Bruce Wayne, or rather the caricature he presented to the public, was undoubtedly the crown prince of the idle rich and pompous.
"I don't know how you grin and bear it," she said "You obviously come to a lot of these things, right?"
He'd accepted the irritating parts of living a double life a long time ago. Oddly enough, the discomfort of hunting criminals or suffering from a lack of sleep paled in comparison to attending many of the functions he felt his celebrity forced upon him.
He shrugged his shoulders slightly. "A lot more then I'd like. Pretty much all of them, I guess. I have to make an appearance though."
"Oh, right...you're famous and important," she said derisively, rolling her eyes. "I'd almost forgotten."
Bruce grinned. "I heard the trick is figuring out how to get off their mailing list."
The corner of her lip twitched upward, back into her seductive little half smile. "They can be persistent, can't they?" she said, nodding playfully. "Must see dollar signs when they look at you or something. I wouldn't worry though. I'm sure you'll come up with a way out." She cocked her head to the side playfully so she could look at him out of the corner of her eye. "Better make it something big too"
Bruce smiled wickedly. She'd given him an opening to drop one hell of a hint towards his identity. Time to see if she could put the pieces together. "Already tried insulting them and burning my house down," Bruce mused absently. "It didn't work. I don't suppose you have any better ideas?"
Her own smiled faltered in her puzzlement. "That was...strangely specific. Why would..." She trailed off, her eyes widening and flickering briefly with recognition when she realized he was being serious. The woman stared at him for a moment, as if she was shuffling through her memories and trying vainly to place the infamous event.
She still didn't recognize Bruce Wayne.
Although it was national news, the razing of Wayne Manor had likely been little more than a punchline everywhere but in the Gotham City area. Most people across the country just got a small laugh at the expense of the rich man who stupidly burned down tens of millions of dollars and then continued going about their lives.
"Wow, um...no. That's...tough to beat," she said, laughing lightly once she saw the clear amusement on his face and the sheer ridiculousness of what he'd just admitted to. She stopped to take another sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving his. "And the riddle continues."
Bruce shrugged. "I aim to please."
"And what does a fabulously wealthy and famous young man like yourself do exactly?"
"Oh, about what you'd expect. Buy stuff that isn't for sale, make people do inappropriate things to gain your favor, brag about the private islands we own..." She laughed loudly as he ticked off the the last point. A full, hearty laugh that made her eyes dance and crinkle in amusement.
"Brandon likes to talk about that little piece of rock he has down in Mexico, doesn't he?" Bruce asked.
"In detail." She was still smiling widely, a feature that he found disarmingly attractive.
"Well, the weather is supposed to be nice this time of year."
"Is it now? Good to know," she said, nodding her head sarcastically.
She seemed to be looking at Bruce differently now. As their interaction had progressed she'd lost the predatory, almost confrontational look in her eyes. Bruce much preferred the humor and sarcasm that seemed to dance over her soft features. She had a wit and intelligence that he could appreciate. Attributes that could be rare commodities in this crowd.
"So you and Brandon..."
"Selina?"
Thorne's sudden question caused them both to jerk their heads. The woman, Selina, rolled her eyes and released a very dramatic sigh, obviously annoyed with the interruption.
Brandon was looking angrily at her, obviously upset at whatever he and Fox had had it out over and also obviously intent on beating a hasty escape to get away from Lucious and Bruce as quickly as possible.
She looked back to Bruce and held out her hand, allowing the frown she'd shot Thorne to morph back into her slight smile. "Game's over I guess. I'm Selina. Selina Kyle."
He clasped her gloved fingers softly and shook her hand. "Bruce Wayne."
"Well, well, well...," she practically purred, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead and her grin growing markedly. "How very, very interesting." She laughed loudly, indifferent to the looks from several people around them. "And the pieces fall into place." She let her hand linger in his a second longer than was probably decent, all things considering. "I suppose that puts some things in a new light."
Brandon Thorne hadn't missed the extended handshake. The scowl on his face deepened as he glanced back and forth between Bruce and Selina, no longer oblivious to the flirtatious little smiles both were sporting.
"C'mon Selina," he said, tugging on her arm. She held Bruce's gaze a moment more before allowing the silently seething Thorne to lead her away.
Fox, for his part, was watching Bruce and Selina's banter out of the corner of his eye, an amused smile gracing his lips. The man always had been perceptive.
"Good evening, Miss Kyle." The flinch in Thorne's already tense shoulders was noticeable.
Selina half turned back towards him and winked, her lip curling up into a predatory grin. "Oh, the pleasure was all mine, Mister Wayne."
Bruce watched her go, to the continued amusement of Lucius, weaving gracefully through the crowd, her right arm wrapped back around Thorne's. He liked to think the exaggerated sway in her hips was for his benefit though.
"Good night, Mister Wayne?"
Bruce glanced to his left to see Lucius grinning at him good-naturedly before he turned back the way Selina and Brandon had left. He paused before a small smile slowly appeared on his face.
"Yeah. Not a bad night after all," Bruce said, still facing the exit.
It wouldn't last. Bruce was sure there was a law of nature that would inevitably force him into spending an excessive amount of time with those he could stand the least. At the least it always seemed to prevent him from making an early escape from these functions he felt forced to attend.
Right on time the proverbial wet towel was thrown on his evening once again.
"Brucie! There you are!" He outwardly cringed, unable to hide the sigh that escaped his lips.
His date from earlier in the evening finally caught up with him, apparently finally growing tired of holding court in front of the fawning masses.
The night had been going so well too.
"I've been looking all over for you!" she said, theatrically waving her hands around to include the entire ballroom. "Come on. I want to get our picture taken!" She threaded her arm through his and pulled him back into the mass of people.
A/N: Plot wise I felt last chapter was a bit of a gamble. This chapter I thought characterization was a challenge for me, especially Selina. Trying to write her as confident, sarcastic, sexy woman who is absolutely clueless about Bruce Wayne's identity was trying. I had to work at it. I really wanted to give her the chance to form an opinion of him without his persona coming into play and that really shaped the dialogue. I hope I was successful, but am really interested to see what everyone thinks.
Here come a few more familiar characters! Keep in mind, not everyone will be integral to the storyline though. Hugo Strange is a great example. I needed someone to take Crane's place as director of Arkham. He made more sense to me than an original character or an Arkham family member so I went with it...that doesn't mean he won't reappear though. I don't want to do cameos for nothing more than to have a cameo.
As always, very interested to hear back from everyone. Please leave a review, advice...anything. I really soak it all up. Too many new characters? Did I do them justice? Let me know.