Speaking with the Commissioner
I examined my left hip in my tall bedroom mear. Phew. Just a long, ugly scrape, about three or four inches long in length. It was on the side of my thigh, just stopping below my beltline.
I removed my outfit and went into my bathroom to wipe up the dried blood and lotion my wound up for quicker healing.
While scrubbing away at my thigh, I couldn't help but wonder why the Joker was so fascinated with cutting people. I was sure that he lugged that Godforsaken knife around with him everywhere he went.
He'd made his mark on me twice. Once on my neck upon threat, and the second time just for his own personal fucked-up satisfaction. He did it as if it turned him on. Like it fueled his fire.
I almost wanted to go by what Bruce had recommended to me earlier that day. To let him deal with the madman and have me keep a good distance. I sure as hell didn't want to have to face this asshole ever again, but I also did not want to appear as a coward. No, I was strong willed. I needed to put forth my efforts to protect this nearly doomed city. Bruce couldn't do it alone. I would stand by him with every battle we'd face, even if I chanced being smothered by the wronged man of heinous tomfoolery.
It was nearly 4:00 when I received a call from Bruce while I was working on an article I was to have ready for the following day. He had not found the Joker, nor any clues that could signify his location. He was pretty irate as you can imagine. The whole interlocutor was very tense and heated.
"How could I have let him get away like that again?! I'm failing thousands of people, Diana!"
"Bruce, it was not your fault. The man smoked out the whole room before you even had a chance to blink. He's clever, Bruce, and the only way we can stop him is to-"
"Be more clever," Bruce broke in, nicely finishing up my intended words.
"We need to get ahead of him. Get in his face before he sees what is coming. Break down his goals before he has the chance to even think them through properly. We must take him by surprise."
"And how will we do that?" I felt necessary to reason.
"...Only time will tell, Dian. Like you depicted, he is clever, and even excels in the field of improvisation. Before we can step in front of him, we'll have to let him step in front of us."
"Bruce, I hate to sound like a hopeless bearer of discouragement, but he'll step all over us if we don't figure out his plans and put a stop to them fast."
"I don't know what to tell you, Dian, he's no where to be found. I've tore through his usual headquarters, and the place was cleaned out of everything except a few old crates. I checked out all the alleyways and I've asked around in the local inns and even the bars."
"You don't think he's hiding out somewhere in the bank, do you?" I considered, to my own personal doubt, but remained open minded to the thought.
"No, I, along with the authorities, ransacked through the place finding nothing but loose bills and a few tied up tellers."
"Well then, I suppose we'll just have to wait until he puts himself out there again...seems like our only choice, huh?"
"...Unfortunately."
I decided to not leave my apartment for the rest of that day. I wasn't normally a contributor to the phrase 'lazy Sunday' but today, I went by it vehemently by remaining comfortably seated on my couch while watching season 2 of Sex and the City with a Michelina's pasta for dinner.
I'd usually patrol with Bruce on Sunday nights, but considering the circumstances and our prioritized villain having a diehard crush on me, I decided to take things easy, for at least the rest of that day. Of course I'd storm right out if Bruce called with a wanting of assistance, but I was honestly keeping my fingers crossed that that would not occur, for I was in peaceful solitude for the time being.
I went to bed at 10 that night, wanting to forget that feverish day and look onwards in hope of a better tomorrow. I couldn't keep my head held too high however, especially with so many disappointments and plot twists getting thrown into my life uninvited.
I managed to pass out, and without any unwanted erotic dreams or strenuous insomnia. I woke at 7am. After showering I put on my favorite khaki work pants and white tank top with my black blazer.
I gathered my notes for the article on Bruce's (and my) experiences at the Blackgate robbing incident. Of course I couldn't go into hardcore detail, for the public was oblivious to realizing that I was their heroic sidekick of Batman, Wonder Woman, so I kept things cut to the chase and concise on who the problem was, biases on what went down, (excluding the Joker's and my horrific time in the security room) who the people were who was injured/killed, and how the authorities are working to prevent such an occurrence again, hopefully.
I got to the Gotham Gazette at approximately 7:45. I was a journalist on the news of current crime and police/Batman intervention. My job was actually fairly simple, but my article's were generally located on the second to last page, if not the final page. They were small sections, for I suppose that not too many people were all that interested in what Bruce was up to anymore, considering he had been their protector for the past nine and a half years, starting when he was just 23.
Anyways, I still took the position of depicting what goes down when danger strikes the cursed city of Gotham. And my most credible source was always Bruce along with a few police officers occasionally including Jim Gordon.
I'd met Jim a few months earlier upon my re-arrival to Gotham from my five year hiatus in Metropolis. He was a really generous guy with much obtained determination. He, like Bruce, was very serious about bringing justice and keeping righteousness in the perilous streets of Gotham. He was also aware of our full identities, of few other people, including Alfred Pennyworth, and unfortunately, the Joker on my behalf, thankfully not knowing who Bruce was.
He was middle aged and wore glasses and spoke with a slight British accent. He had a touch of gray in his otherwise dark brown hair, probably due to stress day in and day out in this highly disordered city.
He worked his ass off trying to keep things at least slightly in line, the poor man. At least Bruce and I could contribute our efforts to society as well, but just how much could we produce a positive difference with the Joker back and wreaking havoc amongst us dwellers?
...
I walked into work fumbling both my purse and big stack of notes in my arms. I was a bit tired. It was Monday after all, which was usually not my favorite weekday. It denoted a big week ahead. A big and likely eventful week. Too eventful, and therefore stressful on my behalf. For we had a mastermind to research, find, and put away for good.
I received a "hello, Dian" from one of my coworkers, Linda Tomsen. She was an amiable people-person in her mid-thirties. She was a divorced mother of two, who seemed peaceful and contempt with her life, unlike myself at the time.
"Hey, Lin," I returned, while getting adjusted into my small box of an office. I dropped my luggage on my desk and plopped down into my seat, with a tad of unnecessary relief. It was only ten to eight in the morning after all, and I had a long day ahead of me. I wouldn't be punching out till 5 that day.
Linda leaned against my office walling with a large cup of Starbucks in hand. Her blonde and wavy hair cascaded aside her cup as she spoke on about what she'd heard of our hazardous situation.
"So I heard that that creep with the war paint is back in town," she complied, as I knew that damn well.
"Oh yeah, unfortunately…" I replied, trying not to sound too obvious. I couldn't hint that I was the city's female savior. She may have already had her suspicions, and I dared not to add on to them. I was Diana Prince to her. Just that. Just a normal 27-year old woman who worked as a columnist at the city press. Nothing more, nothing less.
"I just hope that he doesn't strike us drastically like he did last time back in '08. He killed off like ten people or something like that and he blew up the General hospital, thank God they were able to get everyone out before the explosion occurred. That was tragic, Dian. I don't think you were here when that all went down, were you?"
I shook my head. She clicked her tongue twice as if to suggest her regards of upcoming dissatisfaction.
"Well, I guess we'll just have to wait and see what goes on, huh?"she asked directing her light green eyes into mine.
"I suppose so…" I sighed, as she smiled and gave her usual "toodaloo" to say goodbye.
I then turned my desktop computer on and sat back, flipping through my rough draft while waiting for the old thing to fire up. I'd managed to get a paragraph of text down before being approached by a hastened and paranoid looking Jim Gordon.
"Miss Prince, a word, if you will. It's important."
"What's going on?" I asked, feeling my heart race and stomach knot up in angst. Did something happen to Bruce? Why else would the City's leading officer come there with an urgent need to speak with me right then? He hadn't done that before…
"Just follow me into the other room." He leaned in closer. "It has to do with the Joker," he whispered cautiously, as my stomach flipped like a pancake.
I got up and warily followed him into our currently empty meeting room. Once inside, he abruptly closed the door, then proceeded to go around and close all of the blinds. This must have been really serious.
"Oh my God, Jim, what happened? Is Bruce okay?" I asked, while shakingly taking a seat in one of the many desk chairs.
"Yes, yes, he is fine. What I'm concerned for is your health. Are you okay?" he asked, taking me aback a bit. Why was I his concern?
"Um, yes, I'm alright...why?"
He paced back and forth and sighed while seeming to contemplate his approaching speech.
"...Mr. Wayne spoke with me last night. He told me that you had up close and personal contact with the Joker."
I blushed uncontrollably. Jesus, did Bruce tell him everything? The forced kisses? The cuts and intense ass-grasping? I considered my disgusting experience to be personal and wanted Bruce to keep it to himself. I trusted him, and I got his word that he wouldn't preach my debilitating tale to others.
"U-um...what did he say?" I fearfully asked, my ears ringing with tension for his answer.
"He told me that you were locked in a room with him alone. That you were stuck in there with the freak for at least half an hour. That's all he clarified. The rest he spoke on about the other brigands that serviced the Joker-" He paused and smoothed his hair anticipatingly. "Ten of them. Seven caught, three escaped...got away with nearly 50 Grand."
I sighed silently in relief. He didn't let loose the intimate info that I'd revealed. Thank you, Bruce.
He took a seat next to me and met my eyes. "What I came here to ask was, did you get the chance to unveil anything about this madman? Did he tell you anything personal about himself?"
"No, he just cut my thigh-" His eyes widened worriedly. "Not that bad though, it'll heal soon. He also told me how he got his scars, but I think it was completely fabricated, sir-"
"Wait, tell me what he told you," he stated, while now getting a notebook and pen out of his case.
"Alright, um, he told me that when he was fifteen, he had a very depressed and suicidal friend who, from what he told me, seemed to having schizophrenia."
He was already crinkling his eyebrows in doubt.
"He told me that one night his friend had managed to sneak into his bedroom and attack him with a knife, hence the scars on his face. He concluded by indicating that he'd made an escape out his window."
He quietly scoffed at that last part, as did I when he told me. I doubted that he could shed light from any of that nonsense.
"Huh. Is that all he said?"
Up came the despised flashbacks of forced lip thrashing again.
"Y-yes, that's all he said."
He stared down at the carpeted floor and sighed gruffly.
"Thank you for your time, Diana. You may go."
I shook his hand and headed back out. A few people gawked at me knowing something imperative was up, for just having a private conversation with the freaking leader of the city, I'd guess.
Linda approached me stricken strongly with the common virus of curiosity.
"Was that Commissioner Gordon? What's going on?"
"Oh, just some news on the Blackgate robbing incident," I said, not in the mood for explaining the complete story.
"Ah, well, let's keep our fingers crossed that our city can remain invulnerable just a bit longer," she said with a loss of hope at the end.
I nodded. "We'll have to keep dreaming."
But crossing my fingers never got me anywhere. Never.