Chapter Four.
Outside Gotham – Night:
The Tumbler roared along a deserted stretch of road lined by ancient tall pines on either side. Inside, Vicki was gradually coming round. She took a deep breath, blinking her gaze into focus. Then she realized where she was, and more importantly who she was with.
"How long have I been out?"
"I took the scenic route."
"Well, I've certainly enjoyed it." She wriggled into a more comfortable position and circled her head clockwise then anti-clockwise to ease the tension in her neck from sleeping awkwardly, "You drugged me, right?"
Instead of an answer, he punched a button on the console in front of him.
Which begged the obvious; "What's that for?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
"Occupational hazard."
At the side of the road, two fallen trees surrounded by under-brush slowly lifted into the air. Hydraulics? Behind them a hidden road; pretty overgrown apart from the track down the middle, covered by a canopy of branches so it couldn't be seen from overhead. The guy knew how to cover his bases. And if she had a rear view mirror or a back window she could have looked out she'd bet the trees were lowering back into place.
When they made the hairpin turn, Vicki glanced at the console. Sixty miles an hour. The vehicle had barely rolled to the side as it did it. She knew at least three guys who would sell a kidney for one of these.
"Not giving me the 'your place or mine' option I take it."
As they cruised down the hidden road, branches occasionally catching the sides of the vehicle, Vicki surreptitiously studied Batman's profile. She knew in her gut he wasn't a murderer. And she'd learned to trust her gut instinct a long time ago. Even the term 'vigilante' was a stretch. A vigilante didn't call the cops, a vigilante wasn't concerned by the number of innocent people on the streets during a car chase, a vigilante didn't say please and thank you. But he wasn't exactly a guardian angel either. He was too dark for that. Darker than any of the guys she worked with in the League. Vicki wondered if he was that way for a reason or if it was simply part of the disguise meant to put fear into the hearts of -
"Up on the roof - how did you know my name?" She frowned as the question left her lips.
He glanced briefly across at her, then focussed on where they were going.
"How did you know?"
Still no reply. And for some reason she could feel a ripple of something in the air. Anger? What the hell had she managed to do to make him angry when she'd been unconscious? Still frowning, she looked out through the darkened wind-shield, and saw a waterfall straight in front of them. It was a dead end. Unless she was very much mistaken it was a dead end with a deep body of water at the bottom of it and a big chunk of rock behind the curtain of water filling the deep hole. And he was accelerating…
"What are you doing?" Wide-eyed, she looked across at him. Then the engine noise went up another octave; the high pitched whine filling her ears as the wall of fast flowing water rushed towards them, "Are you insane?!"
With the same sense of time slowing down people experienced when something awful was about to happen, she saw the small window in front of her fill with dark, rushing water. But just when basic instinct made her close her eyes and grip her hands tight to whatever she could find, she heard the boosters kick in and there was a moment of weightlessness as they were propelled off the ground and into the air. A dash of heavy water sprayed over them, there was a bone-jarring jolt as they hit the ground again, and then the vehicle screeched sideways and came to a halt.
The roof plates were sliding open when she blinked her surroundings into focus. They were in a cave?
Scrambling ungraciously out of the cock-pit as Batman walked across the damp, uneven floor on long strides, she confirmed her suspicions. They were definitely in a cave. But it was huge. The walls rose up all around the cavernous expanse to an almost cathedral-like ceiling where the shadows seemed to move. And for a moment Vicki convinced herself she could hear the beating of wings. She turned on her heel, her head tilted back as she squinted into the darkness to try and discover where the noise was coming from. Bats? Bats would make sense in a cave. They were fitting companions for the man who had stepped up onto some kind of platform…
When Vicki followed him, her eyes widened. Holy crap. It was spectacular. A vast bank of state-of-the-art computers made her mouth water. What looked like the kind of crime lab the F.B.I. could never get government funding for made her think enviously of how many times she could have used it. A fully-equipped workshop with varying mind-baffling things in different states of creation, it wasn't just the biggest and best secret clubhouse a boy could wish for (and she knew several 'boys' who would have a bad case of equipment envy if they ever saw it) - it was the equivalent of Carlsbad meets Norad.
"You do know you could erase a country's national debt with what it cost to set this place up?" Her voice bounced off the walls of the huge cave.
Batman remained silent; his back to her as he reached up to unclip his dark cape before laying it over the back of an office chair.
As he started to peel off the layers of his suit, starting with his gauntlets and moving on to the arms, Vicki followed him towards a row of matching suits and ran her gaze over them, "Kevlar?"
"Better."
Well at least she got a response. That was a start.
He stripped off the top half of the dark suit and tossed it down, tugging a jersey off and reaching for a replacement as he turned towards her. When he realized she was looking at him, he froze, stood his ground – and let her look.
Vicki's gaze travelled downwards over his toned chest to the two large bruises in the center of his chest and what looked like a healed bullet wound on one side of his ribs – the sight making her frown before she briefly allowed herself to look lower over the kind of six-pack that would make most women weak at the knees. Frowning harder at the flush of warmth that danced over her skin in response, she swallowed and sharply lifted her gaze to the dark eyes that were studying her from behind the mask,
"Doesn't protect your head the way it should, though, does it?"
"That's why I wear a target on my chest."
Dragging her gaze from the intensity of his, she glanced at the bat-shaped insignia on the suit hanging closest to her; mentally weighing up the odds of someone trying a head-shot at some point. Then she turned away and walked back to the bank of computers, her fingertips trailing along the edge of the sweeping desk as her eyes shone with appreciation. Now this she could work with. The screens that were active showed satellite imaging of the city, links to Gotham P.D.'s security cameras - and then she saw an image capture of The Joker's face being mapped and run against a database that looked very similar to the one she had for the League…
She glanced across at Batman as he hauled the replacement jersey over his head and walked towards her as he pushed his arms into the sleeves. Then she looked at another screen where some kind of cellular comparison was running and a realization hit her; "You're working on the murders."
"Yes."
When he stepped over beside her, she watched as long fingers typed a set of instructions into one of the keyboards before he walked around the desk into the laboratory. When she followed him, to put it mildly, she was awed. Gaping at millions of dollars' worth of equipment, she saw him check the robotics that were running tests inside Perspex cases without the aid of human interaction, "What are you looking for?"
For a moment she didn't think he was going to answer her. Frustrated, it crossed her mind to ask him why he'd brought her there in the first place. But before she could form the words, he glanced at her from the corner of his dark eyes as if he was sizing her up. Then he walked back towards the computers and spoke in the deep, rough voice that for some reason suddenly felt familiar to her,
"That one is measuring fluorescent polarization of the chemicals and substances found in the victims blood and hair samples." He pointed at another case as he walked past it, "This one is running gas chromatography and mass spectrometry - identifying the chemicals by their molecular structure."
"Where did you get the samples to work from?"
He didn't answer.
Which was a shame, because Vicki suspected they could have an interesting conversation if he chose to trust her any further than he could throw her…
When she joined him at the desk, he was typing instructions into another keyboard, so her gaze automatically searched the screens for information or a data stream she could follow, "Got anything?"
"It's a designer drug. Highly sophisticated. There are elements of Lovastatin; it blocks the production of cholesterol and lowers blood levels."
"High cholesterol is the least of the victims worries."
Sneaking another glance at his profile, she saw what almost looked like a twitch of amusement on the corner of his mouth, "Lovastatin is found in another drug that's known to cause muscle spasms. But finding the cause of the muscle spasms was easier than finding an explanation for why they literally died laughing."
Her gut instinct kicked in with a twist of her stomach, "You think it's The Joker, don't you..."
"Yes. The question is how. And why. Whatever plan he has won't necessarily make sense, but there'll be one. I need to decipher it before he can do as much damage to the city as he did last time."
"You could have killed him, you know." She turned ninety degrees and rested her hip against the edge of the desk as she looked up at him, "You could have killed the Joker tonight."
"He would have killed you first."
If she hadn't known it already, she knew now; "You're not a vigilante."
His chest rose and fell beneath the dark jersey as he took a carefully measured breath, "A vigilante is just a man lost in the scramble for his own gratification – he can be destroyed or locked up…"
"But if you devote yourself to an ideal and they can't stop you, you become something else entirely. Right?"
When he jerked his face towards her and studied her with narrowed eyes she smiled a small smile, "You might work outside the law, but you do it because sometimes that's what it takes."
"You believe that."
"About working outside the law?"
"Yes."
"Hmmm," She pursed her lips in thought and studied a point in the air over his right shoulder as she inhaled through her nose then wrinkled it before answering, "I'm gonna take the fifth on that one…"
Dark eyes were staring at her when she looked behind the mask again, but even without the mask she doubted she would have been able to read his expression. He exuded control, probably wore another mask beneath the mask she could see. One that did more than hide a secret identity…
When she lifted a brow in challenge he turned his attention back to the screens.
So Vicki glanced up at what he was studying, "Cosmetics?"
"A commonality between victims. The drug may have been absorbed through the skin."
Impressive. Vicki couldn't help but respect the way he was piecing it together, "No more make-up then. If that's the case we'll all be showing our true faces."
She looked straight at him to see how he would respond to what was practically a direct request. But he was either too preoccupied with what he was doing, or hadn't picked up on it. Somehow Vicki doubted the latter…
"I've cross-referenced all the brands they had in common and tracked all the records. Every shipment, every warehouse, every loading dock. Nothing. No opportunities for tampering. If it's in the cosmetics then somehow the Joker is supplying tainted ingredients… at the source."
"Wait." She looked at the screens again, "You've tapped into all the corporate databases you want? Just like that?"
"I let the FBI do that. Then I tap into the FBI."
"Naturally, because that's so much easier," She knew. She'd spent as many hours running searches in the FBI database as some people spent Googling. Then a hint of flapping from the ceiling drew her gaze upwards again, "How'd you find this place?"
"Stumbled across it when I was a boy."
The fact he'd volunteered the information made her gaze jerk abruptly to his profile, where she saw a muscle clench in his strong jaw. Hadn't meant to tell her, had he? But she pushed anyway, "You don't mind the small furry companions?"
"They don't come down. They don't like the light."
There was a subtext in there somewhere. Vicki wondered if the idea for his disguise had come from his boyhood discovery, "I used to be scared of bats when I was a kid."
"They used to terrify me. I came back and confronted the fear."
It didn't surprise her. She was more surprised that he'd told her. Then she tried to picture a scared little boy confronting his fears that way and found herself thinking about a photograph of another scared little boy…
Which lead her to ask, "Who pays for all this?"
"I have sponsors."
"More than one?" She saw the muscle in his jaw clench again, "The computer system alone looks like it's miles ahead of anything available to the man on the-"
When the thought entered her head, her heart forgot a beat and then took on an erratic rhythm to make up for the deficit. No. No way. She stared up at his profile with wide eyes as she sucked in short breaths of cool air. It couldn't be. No way was this man… and if he was and he was Bruce Wayne too… no way…
The silence caught his attention, so he turned to look at her; her stunned expression making his eyes narrow again, "What?"
Vicki closed her mouth and swallowed hard in an attempt to moisten her dry mouth. There was no way in hell he could be the guy she'd been talking to for months. Not her guy. Her gaze flickered away from his eyes to the computer screens. Yes, they'd talked computers and he'd surprised her with his knowledge and the fact he seemed to be ahead of the game when it came to technology. But her guy had been fun to talk to – he'd even flirted with her some – and she'd been calling him last each time she checked in with the team because she looked forward to talking to him - because –
She damped her lips, her voice low when she spoke, "This thing must have one hell of a firewall…"
When her gaze flickered to meet his again so she could check for a reaction, he stood a little taller and looked back at her with the same unwavering gaze as before, "I'll take the other memory card now."
"I already gave you the memory card."
He folded his arms across his dark jersey, "You gave me one memory card."
"What makes you think there's another one," She folded her arms over her breasts, subconsciously protecting the card she'd hidden.
"You're a reporter. Reporter's can't be trusted."
"Says the man wearing a mask…"
The quirk of her brows was met with a tense silence which irritated her even more than the thought he might be who she thought he was and wasn't trusting her. Had he known who she was all along? Was this who Oliver had watching over her? Why was it okay for him to know who she was and not for her to know who he was? A woman who'd spent a large portion of her life keeping secrets and protecting other peoples secrets should theoretically have been more understanding. But while he was stood in front of her, staring down at her with those dark eyes and not showing so much as a glimpse of the guy she had loved talking to once a week…
"Fine." With a sigh of frustration she unfolded her arms and waved a hand in the direction of his macho transportation, "There's another one in my bag with the camera."
"I have that one. But since neither of the cards I have will have photographs on them, I'd like the one that does…"
How did he know that?! How long had she been unconscious? Just where exactly had he searched! The expression on her face must have said it all, because he added; "Since it's not in your bag or your pockets, it follows that it must be hidden somewhere closer. You can hand it over voluntarily or I can search for it. Your decision."
Despite the fact he'd just allayed her fears about patting her down when she'd been unconscious, his attitude ratcheted her annoyance up a notch. Intimidation might work with other people but she wasn't other people. And even if he knew who Vicki Vale was, there was no way in hell he knew Chloe Sullivan. Chloe Sullivan who had dealt with people driven insane by their abnormal abilities before she'd even graduated from High School - who had gone head to head with billionaire megalomaniacs convinced it was their destiny to save the world at all costs, alien Generals seeking to rule the world with terror, artificial intelligences determined to absorb the world's knowledge before destroying it…
And a guy dressed as a bat thought he was going to intimidate her? She almost laughed. Heck, even if he killed her, it wasn't like she would stay dead, was it?
Her chin tilted to a sarcastic angle as she smiled sweetly and held her arms out to her sides, "Go ahead. But just so you know – when you literally come up empty handed – there's gonna be a 'My Night With Batman' expose which will make you look like a complete idiot and severely dent this whole dark and dangerous thing you've got going on. Your decision."
For a moment he continued staring at her, then there was an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders and he unfolded his arms, "Fine."
But instead of walking away he stepped towards her, grabbed hold of her wrists, pushed her arms behind her back – and the next thing she knew she was being turned and leaned backwards over the desk. Her eyes widened as she struggled against the large body that moved closer to trap her in place, "What do you think you're doing?!"
"Making a decision."
"Don't you dare-"
"Where is it?"
It wasn't the fact that his rock hard body was so close to hers. It wasn't that his face was close enough for her to see the determined glitter of his dark eyes. It wasn't even the fact that he was rearranging her arms behind her back so he could hold her wrists in one large hand and free up the other to search with. Or the fact her pulse was racing and the realization of how much stronger than her he was physically was even more blatantly obvious than before. It wasn't any of those reasons that made her change her mind.
What made her change her mind was the tingling sensation that started on her skin and began to radiate inwards in warm waves; building inside her body and growing like a balloon being filled with hot air. She knew what it was – but the fact she hadn't had much time to experiment with it made her wary of letting the sensation continue to grow. Because if it did, and she couldn't control it…
"Let me go," The voice that came out of her throat was deathly calm and completely flat, "I'll give it to you after you get away from me. If you don't, I won't be held accountable for what happens next."
And she wasn't kidding about that either.
When she focussed her gaze on his shoulder and concentrated her attention on keeping the building energy inside her under control, she felt rather than saw him studying her. There was no way he could know what she was experiencing or how she felt, but he had to know something was wrong. If he wanted to think he'd intimidated her into giving up the battle of wills then so be it. She'd let him have the victory this time. But there was no way she would ever forgive him for putting her in the situation in the first place. And if he was who she thought he might be, he'd taken something from her she could never get back. There was no way to explain that to him. Not when she couldn't explain it to herself. It almost felt like… a loss…
Inexplicably; it hurt.
As threatening tears stung the backs of her eyes, he let go of her arms and stepped back. So she took a moment to close her eyes and focus on her breathing while she reached inside the 'v' of her blouse and retrieved the memory card. When the sensations in her body calmed down, she opened her eyes and held it out to him, her voice still flat,
"Happy now?"
He glanced down at the small card held between her thumb and forefinger. Then his gaze lifted and searched her eyes.
When he didn't take it she lifted it higher and quirked her brows.
"Delete any pictures of me. You can keep the rest."
"What?" She stared at him in astonishment.
"Use the terminal behind you."
Vicki watched him walk back to the rows of suits, unable to believe what she was hearing. By allowing her to delete any of the pictures she found of him, he was gambling on there not being any where she could see his face. Was he so sure there weren't any there? Did he know something she didn't? Or was he trusting her? Was that what it was? Maybe he wanted her to know. But if he did, surely he would just come right out and tell her? It wasn't that difficult, especially if he knew who she was. It didn't make any sense.
But if it was his way of demonstrating trust…
Dragging her gaze from the tall figure suiting up again, she turned around and sought out a slot for a memory card. A few seconds later, she located which screen she was linked to and went through the shots. There were plenty she could use on an article about The Joker's men attacking Batman in an alley. If she had any proof they were The Joker's men. And if the article couldn't have been used to take an anti-Batman stance. Then she hit the series of shots taken when his mask had been pulled back. Out of focus, out of focus, one of the men in the way – wait – that might be one. Of course she would have to tighten in on it and clean it up some. She certainly had the software, literally at her fingertips, to do it, but –
She looked across the cave to where Batman was snapping the sections of his suit into place with his back to her. He wasn't even watching what she was doing. He was trusting her. Vicki looked back at the screen, the tips of her fingers hovering over the keys. And immediately her thoughts went to the man she had talked to during her weekly check-in with the team.
'Every search for a hero begins with something he requires,' Knight had said during one of their short conversations. Vicki didn't remember what had brought the subject up, but she remembered it had been the first time she'd learned something about him that made her want to know more. Someone told him that he said. And when she asked what the something was, he'd answered; 'A villain.'
It struck a chord. Because it was how they all got started. Every hero she knew, everyone she worked with in the League – they'd all started on the path they were walking because they'd been called to it by a villain or a villain in the making. They did what needed to be done. It was just that simple. In the League they banded together, but even though Vicki knew a part of it was because they were stronger together than apart, she also thought an equally big part was that together they weren't alone. The only way to have any sort of a life was to have a secret identity – to keep secrets from everyone around them, even if they were close to those people. There was no avoiding the fact it was a lonely existence, and it took a certain kind of person to do it. But Knight had always seemed more alone than the rest of them, even as a team member he was still isolated and introverted. At the start Vicki had thought it was because he was new to the team and had yet to form the bond of trust some of the original members had. But it was more than that. A big part of it was trust. And whether or not she liked him much as Batman or Bruce Wayne – if they even were one and the same - if it was Knight standing not far away from her, she wanted him to know she could be trusted. That every member of the League could depend on her for a reason.
Suddenly the picture she was looking at felt like a test…
So she deleted every photograph on the card, removed it from the slot and set it down beside the keyboard before turning away from the screens.
Batman was clipping his cape back into place when she stopped a few feet away from him and took a chance, "Bruce?"
The hand on the cape stilled, then he turned his head and looked over his shoulder, "Did you say something?"
They both knew she had. But she didn't push; "I'm done."
"I'll take you back to Gotham."
They walked in silence across the cavernous cave, down the step, and climbed into the heavy duty vehicle. But before the roof closed, he turned to her; his voice low and rough but more intimate in the confined space than before, "Here."
Vicki looked down at the small capsule in his gloved hand.
"There aren't any long term effects."
She looked up at him. At the dark pools of his eyes, at the mouth below the mask. Then she reached out and took the second test from his fingers, looking back into his eyes as she lifted it up to her face, broke it in half and breathed deep.
A hand reached out to cradle the side of her head as she passed out, then Bruce gently laid her cheek against the back of the seat and reached across for the strap that stretched across her lap to hold her in place. Bending over her, he caught the scent of her shampoo; a combination of lavender and chamomile. Calming scents. But a different kind of calmness to the emotionless tone she'd used when she told him to let her go. There had been a flash of something in her expressive eyes before she changed too. Something that looked like fear, but he'd known instinctively wasn't fear of him. She'd been too prepared to engage in a battle of wills moments before it happened for him to believe she was intimidated by him. So what made her back down? Was it the fact he'd been prepared to use physical strength against her? He wouldn't have hurt her. But he would have retrieved the memory card if he had to. Though considering where she had it stashed in the end, it was maybe as well it hadn't come to that…
Even Bruce Wayne the playboy billionaire would have drawn the line at getting that personal with another man's woman.
He wondered if she'd been Watchtower before she got involved with Queen. Had she known his secret identity before she got involved? If she was already the League's co-ordinator then it made more sense to Bruce. For Queen to have got involved with her before that would have been selfish. Not that Bruce knew how many risks the man took, or the kind of people he was up against. Nor did he need to know if it didn't effect Gotham. The only reason he'd allowed Clark Kent to talk him into liaising with them had been a chance meeting in Gotham when the man had used what he called his 'abilities'. Bruce doubted there would have even been a discussion of it hadn't been for the fact he was dressed as Batman at the time. And even then it had taken several lengthy negotiations and the introduction of Oliver Queen, who Bruce knew from business circles and was able to investigate – thoroughly – for him to consider taking a calculated risk. Getting men used to guarding their secret identities to come to any kind of middle ground when it came to the subject of disclosure, hadn't been easy. But the thing Kent had been fighting in front of Bruce's eyes that first time…
If there was so much as the slightest chance more would come to Gotham, Batman needed to know how to fight them. Once he'd known there were worse enemies, co-ordinating information with The League had seemed like a necessary evil. Dealing with Watchtower had made it somewhat easier. There'd been a time when he would have used the word 'enjoyable'. But that was before the complication of meeting her and developing an unhealthy fascination with her.
He had no idea why he'd just trusted her the way he had.
Turning away, he fired up the engine and turned the Tumbler in the wide arc required to allow it to get up to speed to make the leap to the outside world. Clenching his jaw, he remembered the soft tone she'd used when she said his name. His real name. Just how much investigating had she been doing? How much information had she got? The one stipulation he'd been immovable on with Kent and Queen was that his identity remain a secret from the rest of the League. No-one was supposed to know Knight was Batman. Hell would freeze over before anyone would know Batman was Bruce Wayne. It was why it had taken so long for him to make his decision. Kent had spent a year travelling the world before Bruce agreed to a trial period…
He could pinpoint the second she started to piece it together. Her comment about a firewall had merely been confirmation. He should never have brought her to the cave. So why in hell had he? If she connected the dots between Knight and Batman it was only half the puzzle. Calling him Bruce while he was wearing the suit? That was a big problem. Something told him she still wasn't sure. But not only was she an investigative reporter – she was the co-ordinator of a secret army; she gathered and distributed information. And from the conversations he'd had with her as Watchtower he knew how intelligent she was. So it was just a matter of time.
Accelerating off the turn and firing the boosters, he hit the ramp at the precise speed to make the jump through the waterfall and back onto the narrow laneway. Then he focussed his gaze ahead and let his mind work on the problem sleeping beside him. Trouble was; she was as much of a liability out of sight as she was in it. The League members obviously trusted her, so maybe knowing she was Watchtower was part of the reason he'd trusted her in the cave. But it was out of character for him. He didn't trust people he didn't know. Hadn't in a very long time. So what was it about her?
The Tumbler passed the sensors buried in tree trunks either side of the lane, a flashing light on one of the small screens in front of him indicating that the outer barriers would be rising in time for him to drive beneath them. According to the satellite imaging constantly linked to the Tumbler, he had clear roads to Gotham. It was late, so it was no great surprise. All he had to do was get through the streets undetected, find a place to conceal the Tumbler near to her apartment, break in and leave her behind.
Once she was safe, he would do the usual patrol and check for signs of The Joker. Then he would take the Tumbler to the underground bunker in the city and work through the rest of the night the way he always did.
A decision on what to do about Vicki Vale could wait till morning.
Vicki Vale's Apartment – An Hour Later:
Vicki woke with a start, sitting upright and feeling breathless and disorientated until she realized she was in her own bedroom. She glanced down at her clothes. Still there. Well that was a step up from the last time she'd woken up disorientated, she supposed. Then the thing that had woken her rang again, so she reached for the phone on her night-stand; her hand momentarily freezing in mid-air as it occurred to her it might be Bruce calling. Three rings later, she lifted the receiver, and to her amazement, seemed to have lost the ability to speak.
A voice sounded at the other end of the line; "Vicki…?"
"Oh, you have a lot of explaining to do Mister!"
"I just wanted to check you were okay. You didn't answer your usual phone."
Meaning they weren't on a secure line. But there was no way he was worming out of this one; "You know where I've been?"
"I'm gonna hazard a guess and say 'out'."
"Believe me when I tell you, you are way too deep in trouble right now to make with the funnies!" She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and discovered her shoes had been removed when her toes hit the carpet. Blinking down at them she frowned as she tried to form a mental picture of Batman considerately taking her shoes off...
She shook her head, "Where are you?"
"I'm out too."
Meaning he was somewhere doing something involving a bow and arrow. Vicki sighed heavily in frustration, "Call me on the other line when you're done. Don't make me call you."
"And now we're an old married couple."
"Go do whatever you're doing." She headed towards the walk-in wardrobe in search of clothes she hadn't had an adventure in, "And keep in mind that while you do it? I'll be on my computer. Following up on the kind of story that would get me the front page of every major newspaper on the face of the earth…"
"I'll call you later."
"Thought you might."
Hours later Vicki was on her fifth cup of coffee and staring at the screens in front of her. It had taken a lot of digging, but there were too many coincidences for her not to make a picture out the puzzle. She started with what she'd seen in the cave. Equipment that specialized didn't come cheap, but a man like Bruce Wayne would hardly need to worry about money. So on one screen she investigated Wayne Technologies and Wayne Biotech, while on another she hacked into the Gotham City power grid to see what kind of an electricity bill Wayne Manor ran up every month…
When she discovered Wayne Technologies had the contract to supply computer equipment to the FBI she had coincidence number one. Naturally Wayne Aerospace had satellites, so she mentally ticked that one as coincidence number two. Hacking into Wayne Technologies, or any of the Wayne companies databases for that matter, proved a pain in the ass. Excellent firewalls she presumed.
The power grid got her nowhere. Creating his own supply of electricity? She wondered if the waterfall would generate enough with the right equipment…
Going by Batman's distinct lack of trust, and with the knowledge she had of how Oliver got things done without people finding out, she then started checking shipping records. With a great deal of perseverance and a clue of what she was looking for, she hit pay-dirt during her fourth cup of coffee. Via Singapore, through dummy corporations from a Chinese company – large orders – separate parts. Oh he was really good. If she hadn't known what to look for, she would never have found it. The League could pick up pointers. And Knox would have had a field day if he knew what she knew. He'd been right about the coincidental rise from the grave of Bruce Wayne tying in with the first appearance of Batman. Which led her to wonder if he was right about what started it…
By the time Oliver called back on the secure line she was wired on caffeine and the thrill of the chase, so she skipped the preliminaries; "Bruce Wayne is Batman. That's who you've had watching over me."
"Is it?"
"How much money would you like to owe the IRS this year?"
"You promised you wouldn't investigate him." He parried back at her, "The same promise I made to him when he agreed to a trial period with the League."
"He's on a trial period with us?"
"No. We're on a trial period with him."
"Who the hell does he think he is?"
"He has trust issues. We've all had them at some point."
Vicki snorted as gracefully as anyone could snort with disgust, "I doubt that man would trust anyone. You should see the set up he has. I bet they don't have equipment like that in the underground bunker the president runs the world from during the apocalypse."
"He took you to his base of operations?" Incredulity sounded in Oliver's voice. "What was it like?"
"It's a cave. With bats. The small winged rodent variety as opposed to the two legged rodent variety."
He chuckled, "Do I want to know what he did to get you to like him this much? He's on our side, remember?"
"Is he? Then why the trial period?"
"If I say I think it's because he might see us as a liability rather than an asset it's not gonna help endear him any to you, is it?" The second snort of disgust must have given him enough of a clue, because he then used his 'team leader' tone to tell her; "Put it this way. I'd rather have him on our side than against us. Does he know, you know?"
"I'd say he knows I'm on the trail," She leaned back in her chair and set her feet up on the desk while she tilted her head back and her gaze discovered a spider's web on a corner of the ceiling, "But he doesn't know how much I've got."
"How much do you have?"
"Enough to start a federal investigation." And that both of them knew she wouldn't use, "Next question; how much does he know about me?"
"Great. Now we're in the eighth grade. Do you want me to pass him a note?"
"I want you to tell me how much he knows. Does he think there's some random reason I need to be watched over? Cos I don't see him buying that, do you? Does he know I'm Watchtower?" She took a deep breath and mentally crossed her fingers for a negative answer to the third option, "Or does he know everything?"
The answer was swift, "He doesn't know everything. Trust is a two way street."
"So what does he know?"
"I asked him to watch over you as a favour. He wasn't happy about it but he's doing it. That was all he knew –"
"Was all he knew?"
"He wants you out of the city."
Dropping her feet off the desk she jerked forwards in her chair, "I'm not leaving here Oliver. I mean it. You try to move me against my will, I'll quit."
"I said you were safer where you are right now."
How dare he tell Oliver to get her out of the city! He might own massive chunks of real estate but he didn't own Gotham. And it was her home now. He had no right! God she hated him. It was a rare thing for her to feel that way. And how she could feel that way and still be so determined to figure out who he really was under the varying layers of disguise he wore, was a source of great confusion to her. The lack of trust in the League wasn't helping his cause any either. If he would bother taking five minutes to get to know them-
"Cut the guy some slack. He's got his hands full there. All that stuff he had to deal with last time The Joker was loose..." Oliver took a breath, "It would have taken more than one of us to stop what was happening. A team could have done it, but alone? The only one with the skills would have been Blue. And he was half a planet away."
Vicki silently nodded in agreement. Clark was the only one who could have dealt with The Joker as fast if not faster than Batman. And even then he wouldn't have paid the price Bruce Wayne had. Because her recent research suggested Harvey Dent's girlfriend had been close to Bruce – apparently from childhood – and neither Batman or the Gotham City P.D. had been able to save her life.
There was no way anyone could know how Bruce must have felt about that.
But just when she was softening some Oliver added, "He knows you're Watchtower as of last night."
"When last night?"
"You were unconscious if that helps any."
"Which time?"
"O-okay…" There was a distinct pause, "Did you have a memory card stashed on you both times?"
The penny dropped, "You told him I'd have more than one card?! Whose side are you on?"
"We're all on the same team, remember?"
"Tell that to Batman."
Bruce Wayne's Penthouse, Gotham City – Morning:
He'd showered and changed by the time he made the decision to pick up the phone. At some point during the night it had occurred to him that the best way to make sure Vicki Vale didn't become a liability was to make sure she was in his line of sight as much as feasibly possible. At least until he found out why it was she was safer in Gotham than anywhere else. Had someone compromised her Watchtower identity? If they had then that made it his problem too. Especially if she'd worked out who he was.
"Vicki Vale."
"It's Bruce."
There was a moment of silence, then an overly polite, "How can I help you Mister Wayne?"
Bruce's eyes narrowed as he looked out of the glass panels; Gotham laid out before him in 360 degrees of an unsurpassed view, "I've been thinking about this interview of yours…" When she didn't make a comment he frowned, "You there?"
"Yes, Mister Wayne. I'm still here."
The fact she was addressing him formally made him do an on-the-spot rethink, "I'd like to see you again."
"Well, naturally I'm incredibly flattered... but I don't think that would be appropriate. I can arrange for one of our other reporters to set up an appointment for an interview if you'd like. Now that you've made the decision to go through with it. We have several female reporters who would love the Opera."
If he hadn't been so exhausted, and if he didn't have a board meeting to sleep through in twenty minutes, he might have strung the game along. But he didn't have the time or the patience, "Is this about last night?"
Another pause, then; "What about last night?"
"You're obviously upset with me about something."
"Am I?"
"I'm assuming it has something to do with last night."
There was what sounded like a pen being tapped off the edge of a desk, "Well maybe if you narrowed it down for me some I could tell you if you're right…"
"I was under the impression you wanted this interview. Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it your idea?"
"Maybe I don't need an interview any more," Her voice lowered and took on the seductive edge that had done so much damage to his libido before he even knew her, "Maybe I already know everything I want to know…"
"Meaning?"
"I'm sure you're very busy, Mister Wayne. It can't be long until you have an expensive lunch date somewhere. And I'm fairly sure you didn't have an early night last night, so-"
"If you have a point to make I'd prefer you got to it."
"There isn't a point to this conversation. And correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you call me?"
Bruce wondered if she was as difficult to work with when she was doing more than a simple exchange of information with the League's team members once a week. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and sought patience, "I don't have a lunch date. So perhaps we could meet face-to-face and you can tell me what's bothering you."
"I'm sure your Hollywood actress friend from last night would be more than happy to join you for lunch."
A single brow lifted in disbelief, "You're jealous?"
"Goodbye Mister Wayne."
When there was a click in his ear and the line went dead, Bruce dropped his arm and stared down at the phone. She'd hung up on him? He couldn't remember the last time someone had done that. And he knew it shouldn't bug him – he was more controlled than that – but for some unfathomable reason he felt the need to get in his Lamborghini and drive straight to the Gotham Gazette offices. What the hell did she mean by 'maybe she knew everything she wanted to know?' Was it supposed to be some kind of cryptic clue? Or was she making a reference to his love life? Did the part about him not having an early night mean she'd assumed he slept with his date? If she thought that then why bother calling him by his name in the cave?
"I take it you haven't been watching the news!"
The sharp words snapped him out of his dark mood, his gaze seeking out the flat screen and his mood growing darker still as Alfred turned up the volume.
As an infant began to cry offscreen, a hand held camera panned out to reveal a close up of The Joker's face; "Baby got a tummyache? I've got something that'll fix him up real quick!"
Winking at the camera he turned it around and waggled a bottle of baby lotion with a large red smile drawn on it, "So remember - use Joker brand – let's put a smile on that face!"
Turning the camera around again, he licked his lips and squinted the eyes surrounded by smeared dark circles, "And the beauty of this product is it's…" He rocked back to wave an arm out from his side, "Well it's just about everywhere. Maybe you already bought some. Maybe it's on you or your little one right…this…minute… Seems to me Gotham's been lacking in a quality product for a while now. But I'm ba-ack – and now we get to see just how much we remember from my last little visit…"
Leaning closer until the screen was filled with just his scarred mouth as he licked his lips again, he added; "Stay tuned folksl. You don't wanna miss the punch-line…"
Chillingly familiar laughter echoed in whatever room he was in as snow filled the screen, the transmission ended and a reporter's voice took over with a news report on The Joker's escape from Arkham.
"At least now you'll find out what he wants."
Bruce clenched his jaw, "He wants what he wanted last time, Alfred. Chaos."
When he lifted his hand and dialled a number Alfred asked, "What do you want to do?"
"Lucius? Bruce. Yes, I saw it. Get Wayne Pharmaceutical to test all the inward shipments we've had in the last four months for any contamination. While they do that, recall all the products on the shelves in Gotham and replace them with the ones we're sure are safe. No charge. Infant products first." He turned away from Alfred and reached for his jacket, "I won't be able to make it to the board meeting. Tell them no-one's heard from me since I went out to dinner with a Hollywood actress last night…"
Vicki Vale could think what she wanted about his 'date' the night before. Even if a very small part of him wanted her to know how wrong she was. But since another part of him was fairly sure she already knew…
Still, it couldn't do any harm to cover his bases, just in case.
"And have them send a range of our products to a Miss Vicki Vale. Alfred will call you with the address," He glanced at Alfred's face long enough to get a small nod of confirmation, "All of them. Yes, I know exactly how many that is."
Vicki Vale's Apartment – Late Evening:
"What the-"
She was dead on her feet, sixteen new deaths reported around the city with no clues to the Joker's demands. The list of potentially lethal products was growing by the minute and causing wide-spread panic. Even on her way back to the apartment to do what she could research-wise on a more sophisticated computer system, people were lining up to buy the evening edition of the Gazette, which had replaced the earlier headline of 'WAR OF THE FREAKS: Batman, Joker in Fluegelheim Shootout' with 'STOCK MARKET CRASHES: Product Scare Drops Dow to 1100. Biggest One-Day Decline in History.'
Not that it stopped Wayne Pharmaceuticals from replacing products all over the city at their own expense. If Vicki hadn't know any better she'd have been chasing up that story – curious to know if there was a link between the two and why it was they were able to guarantee their products safe when the substance had yet to be identified. Knox would be on it. She'd bet her favourite laptop he was. And it was sloppy of Bruce. He should have waited, maybe talked about Oliver getting Queen Industries to do something first then follow up with a similar move 24hrs later. That way it wouldn't have garnered as much attention.
The sight of piles upon pile of cardboard boxes outside her doorway with WAYNE PHARM printed on the sides made her frown all the harder. Why was he sending her –
The second elevator slid open and another pile of boxes were wheeled out by a uniformed delivery man, "Are you Miss Vale?"
"Yes. Why do I have all these?"
"Courtesy of Wayne Pharma-"
"I can read what's on the boxes. Why do I have them?"
He shrugged, "I just deliver 'em lady."
"Is there a note?"
"Nope."
"A delivery docket?"
"Yep," He pulled a clipboard out from between two of the boxes and reached up to retrieve a pen from behind his ear, holding the tip of it to the bottom of a page, "Sign at the 'X'."
She took the clipboard and pen from him and scanned the list of products, "Men's deodorant? Baby lotion? Wrinkle cream. What am I supposed to do with all this stuff?"
"If it was me I'd be settin up a stand. You'll make a fortune if this Joker guy keeps doin' what he's doin'…"
Vicki signed her name and handed back the clipboard and pen, "You're bringing all this inside, right?"
"Lady I just spent the last forty minutes haulin' 'em up here!"
"Well now you've got them this far, you don't have much further to go… not really," She tossed him a semi-flirtatious smile as she slid her key into the lock and pushed the door open, "I promise to tip well. You can even take a few boxes home for that stand of yours. How does that sound?"
"How many boxes?"
When they were neatly stacked in her spare room, minus a half dozen boxes of choice, and the delivery guy was wheeling away his booty, Vicki punched in Bruce's number, "Why do I have enough products to open a pharmacy?"
"I'd call that a shrewd investment about now."
She glared at the boxes, then looked at the wall in front of the secret room. Her instincts told her exactly where Bruce would be. And as much of a pain in the rear as he was being…
"You can arrange to have someone collect them tomorrow – minus a half dozen boxes I gave away. And for future reference, if this is your idea of a replacement for flowers and chocolates to suck up to me – not only is it in poor taste during a city-wide crisis – sending wrinkle cream doesn't endear you any either."
"Duly noted."
Vicki wondered if he'd remembered what night it was. Somehow she suspected he'd been too occupied elsewhere. Oh well, they'd see how good his poker voice was soon enough, "Goodbye Bruce."
"Well at least we've dropped the Mister Wayne. Goodnight Vicki."
Beneath Wayne Manor – Night:
The light on his desk flashed at precisely 9 p.m.. Bruce frowned at it. What was she doing? Then he remembered what day it was…
He was already suited up; a recent broadcast from The Joker playing on one of the screens, "… new and improved Joker brand. With the secret ingredient… I like to call it… SMYLENDAL!"
Sweeping an arm out to his side, he panned the camera around in an erratic, unsteady line that made everything blur for a moment, "Let's get right to our blind taste test…"
When the screen came into focus, there was an anonymous man – gagged, blindfolded and tied to a chair – squirming and struggling against his restraints. Around his neck, a crude sign reading; "Not An Actor.' In front of him on a table - a package labelled 'Brand X.'
"He's tense… he's irritable… Out of sorts…" The Joker practically skipped around him before waggling a finger in front of his blindfolded eyes, "He's been using Brand X! But with the new and improved Joker brand…"
There was the sound of struggling, muffled screams, the camera angle veered violently from ceiling to floor to an arm to struggling legs and a hint of convulsing torso. And then it steadied and focused on the blindfolded corpse, limp in his chair, grinning horrifically. It was the same spasmodic drug.
The camera was turned around and The Joker's face filled the screen, "… it's a SMILE EVERY TIME!" He licked his lips, angled his head, and changed his tone to a line Bruce remembered all too well from before, "I'm a man of my word."
Then he leaned back and took on a chirpier tone, "I know what you're saying. Where can I buy these fine products? Well, that's the beauty of it people of Gotham – you just never know. Chances are… you've bought 'em already! Chances are…"
He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and beckoned the camera closer, "You bought 'em months ago…"
Bruce turned away from the screen and clipped on his belt; his gaze straying to the flashing light again. For the first time in months he ignored it and turned away. Then there was a low beeping from his belt. He'd forgotten it was there. The tiny transmitter was the League's equivalent of a 911.
With a deep sigh of irritation he turned around, "Knight to Watchtower."
"So do you want to know the location of the last broadcast or shall I leave it till next week's call?"
For a brief second he almost forgot to adjust his voice to the halfway point between Batman and Bruce. Then he cleared his throat, "How did you get it?"
"I'm good at what I do. If you get there fast enough you might be able to collect some forensics before the Gotham P.D. salsa their way across the crime scene." She waited for a heartbeat, "You still there?"
"Yes." He opened his mouth to tell her to send the co-ordinates.
"Why are you still there?"
Another small device flashed on the desk, so he picked it up. It was a portable Com. The one he'd never used before.
"Ear piece is in the back of the Com – co-ordinates are on screen – take the Com with you and if you send me the photographs, I can be working them before you get back to wherever it is you go back to."
Bruce read the co-ordinates that placed the scene inside The Narrows, "How do you know where I am?"
But she didn't comment on the fact she'd mentioned the Gotham P.D., or confirm how she knew he was close enough to get to the crime scene, she pushed again; "Are you still there? I have other superheroes I can go help, you know…"
Other superheroes? The people of Gotham wouldn't agree he was a hero. He was still the masked vigilante who murdered Harvey Dent as far as they were concerned. Bruce frowned down at the com in his hand. He didn't want her help. He wasn't a team player. The only other time he'd ever attempted to join a 'team', they'd turned out to be the League Of Shadows.
"I'm starting to knit a sweater now. It should be done by the time you get there." The woman he suspected was slowly going to drive him insane said, "Any color preferences? You always struck me as a bright colors kind of a guy."
"Are you this annoying with the rest of your team?"
"If by annoying you mean able to give as good as I get?" There was what sounded like a can of soda being opened in the background, "Then, yes. Indeed I am. Watchtower out."
Well at least he had one question answered. Whatever her problem was, it had nothing to do with his 'date' from the night before. If it was, her attitude with Knight wouldn't have changed. And she'd never given any indication she knew Knight's location before either. But while one question was answered, another formed as he made his way to the Tumbler; Had she put all the pieces of the puzzle together or was she fishing?
Bruce took a deep breath, exhaled and shook his head as he started the engine. If she was fishing then he'd just confirmed his location, hadn't he? So now she knew Knight was Batman. Not that big a problem in the greater scheme of things he supposed. But it brought her a step closer.
The game was on. Amid everything else he was dealing with, he was going to have to find out everything there was to know about Vicki Vale before she put everything together about him. He knew she was Watchtower, so that meant they were still on an even playing field. But he needed more. A fingerprint would be a start. There might be one on the memory card she'd left behind. The one he'd trusted her with and she'd left as a sign he could trust her? A part of him believed that, had known it about Watchtower before he knew who Watchtower was. Being suspicious because she kept secrets was hardly an area where he could cast the first stone…
The Tumbler leapt through the waterfall and headed for Gotham while Bruce continued thinking about Vicki. It felt like he'd barely stopped since he met her. Maybe since before he met her. The thought made him frown hard behind his mask. Just how long had he been thinking about her?
Bruce wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to that.