I neither own nor created Batman/Bruce Wayne, Dr. Leslie Thomkins, Alfred Pennyworth, or Dead-Shot. I did create Madge, Alice, Elizabeth Wayne, and Evelyn Ainsley.
This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.
Madge had almost finished a sketch of her new teacher. She was shading the bottom curve of the Englishman's monocle. He didn't actually wear an eye-piece, but it seemed to fit somehow.
The phone rang. Her pencil's point swept beyond its marked boundary. The artist huffed.
Madge turned her head to scowl at the blaring appliance. Then she turned back to her sketch and began to erase. The phone kept ringing.
Madge let it. Only the Bat, doc, and her teacher knew she was there. They all wanted it to stay that way. She gave a smile when the ringing stopped. The tension in her shoulders relaxed. The artist began to shade again.
Another ring filled the room. Madge let her head fall back with a groan. Then her stare locked onto the distraction.
Madge grabbed the receiver. When they asked for the doc, she would tell them they had the wrong number and just hang up. That could get her several minutes of peace at least. She pulled the receiver to her mouth.
"What do you want?"
That unfriendly greeting was bound to rattle the caller into believing whatever she said. But no, the voice on the other end sounded calmer than hers. In fact, it was an eerie dark sort of calm.
"Madge."
The eraser froze on the page. The artist sat up. Her mouth dropped open.
"Bat?"
"Are you safe?"
Madge blinked.
"Yeah, sure. Doc went over to the hospital tonight, so I'm alone, but all the doors I know about are locked. Why?"
Batman glanced up at the smoke still coming from the car that exploded near the bridge about thirty homeless people sheltered under. Four injured, two with major burns, one with bruising and a possible concussion from falling onto the concrete. Another seemingly illogical and impersonal crime. The last time there was such an attack so near the Red Light District, at this time of night . . . the voice on the other end of the line interrupted his thoughts.
"Should I be worried or something?"
"I thought there might be reason to be. Stay alert tonight. If one or more intruders enter the premixes, hide in the tunnel and use the radio hanging by the door panel to contact me."
Madge frowned as the dial tone hummed in her ear.
. . .
The following noon, Leslie Thompkins' house guest stepped through the kitchen door and froze. Mr. Pennyworth was breaking eggs over a skillet on the stove. Madge blinked at him, but before she opened her mouth the butler spoke without turning around.
"Dr. Thompson had another twelve hour shift in the hospital emergency room last night, so I drove her home this morning. She ate breakfast in the car. I sent her to bed as soon as she entered the house. I thought I'd stay, make brunch for the two of us, and we could get an early, quiet start on your lessons."
The man-servant finally turned to her with a raised eyebrow.
"Do you know how to get dried or, let us hope you never need the knowledge, burnt egg off a cooking pan?"
Madge blinked at him and opened her mouth.
"Uuuuuuuuuhhhh, I think my mom used . . . baking soda."
Mr. Pennyworth nodded and turned back to his eggs.
"Jolly good."
Madge's eyebrows rose at his back. Then she pulled out the chair in front of the nearest place setting. A nearly identical one was directly across from it. She studied them.
At their centers sat empty plates. On either side of these were a napkin and silverware. Above and to the right of the plates were shallow bowls each holding six orange slices. Along the top of her place mat sat two, empty glasses. At their right sat a mug of coffee. Madge picked up the coffee and looked up at her teacher.
"Do you have a key to this place?"
The manservant's head bobbed.
"I do in fact."
Madge's eyebrows rose.
"And you and the Doc's relationship is, what, again?"
The butler diced something on a cutting board as he replied.
"Dr. Thomkins was a good friend of my late employers, the Wayne's. They named her the godmother of their son. He and I are both rather concerned for her safety and well being. She has an admirable, but worrisome habit of keeping late hours and frequenting the less safe neighborhoods of the city."
Madge grinned to herself as a tall, dark, masked figure appeared in her mind. She took a sip of her coffee. She's not the only one.
"How long have you been looking after her?"
Alfred raised the cutting board up and tipped it to one side, then used the knife to slide the diced toppings over the eggs.
"When she or Dr. Wayne worked a long shift at the hospital, the other would drive their fellow doctor home the following morning. When Dr. Wayne married, I drove both him and Dr. Thomkins home after their shifts."
Madge's eyebrows rose again. This was getting as good as a novel. She took another sip of coffee and leaned in.
"So you've been driving, cooking, and grocery shopping for her ever since the other doctor married someone else?"
Mr. Pennyworth glanced at her over his shoulder before turning back to the contents of the skillet.
"She and Dr. Wayne never had a romantic relationship. She was the best friend of his late sister. After Elizabeth Wayne died at the tender age of eleven, Leslie assumed the role of older sister to Thomas Wayne. Both went on to attend medical school together."
"Oh." Madge fell back into her chair. Then she looked up with a deep frown in her forehead. "So, what does that make you?"
Alfred turned the omelet over.
"When the Waynes' married, I became their butler, chauffeur, and bodyguard. I took on duties of looking out for Dr. Thomkins, because they did."
"And you just kept going?"
The manservant gave her a longer look over his shoulder.
"She is my employer's godmother, and he has asked me to see that she is safe and in good health."
"The employer whose AWOL?"
"The one who decided to travel abroad alone for a time."
Mr. Pennyworth lifted the pan from the stove and slid the omelet with cheese, sausage, ham, diced onions and red pepper onto a large blue plate. There he cut it into halves, walked over to Madge's side of the table and transferred one portion to her empty plate. The butler filled their glasses before sitting down. Madge grinned over her mug. Her tone became dryer than usual.
"So if he doesn't come back, and something happens to you, the Doc's . . ."
"A cousin of mine watched over both Wayne Mansion and Dr. Thomkins while I traveled with Mr. Wayne. He has instructions and funds set up for doing so again in the event I and Mr. Wayne are no longer able to."
Madge smiled while she took another sip of her coffee. Letting Mr. Pennyworth save her from saying dirty words had become a favorite past time of hers.
"So your cousin drove her back from the hospital, did her grocery shopping, and snuck into her kitchen to make breakfast while you were gone?"
He picked up his fork.
"He had no need to sneak. I loaned him my key. And Dr. Thomkins agreed to the proposal before we left."
Madge cut into the omelet and took a bite. Her eyes widened. She looked up at her instructor.
"I thought you said the Doc preferred green peppers?"
"Indeed, but she has already had her breakfast, or perhaps more accurately, her dinner, this morning on the drive back here. This is our breakfast. And I seem to remember you staring at the green peppers before setting them in the fridge and asking if there were any red as well. You appeared disappointed that there weren't before replying 'red are better.'"
Madge blinked at the Englishman.
"How do you remember that?"
"If you remain in the service business long, Miss Robertson, you will learn remembering others preferences goes a long way in staying employed."
Madge smiled and took another bite of her omelet.
"You know, the Doc having you around is real convenient for both of us."
Alfred took a sip from a teacup sitting in the place on his mat he'd set Madge's coffee on hers.
"When my employer was abroad without me, having someone else to serve was convenient for me."
Madge looked up at the butler from under her eyelashes. For a moment she just studied him. Then a cheeky smirk washed over her face.
"So, did your cousin fill in for you in serving any other needs of Doc's?"
He spent a second scowling at her with a bristling mustache. Then a look of serenity passed over his face and he took a bite of his half of the omelet. Madge giggled. Asking questions Mr. Pennyworth wouldn't dignify with a answer had become her other favorite pastime.
. . .
Alice's head shot up as she heard the chain outside the door rattle. She had wedged herself in between the toilet and the sink. The room wasn't exactly clean, but she was still relieved she'd been locked into a place with both fixtures.
The door swung open and the two men who had taken her out of the apartment building entered. One held a large Styrofoam cup with a plastic straw sticking out of it. Another had a paper bag that greasy smells emanated from. He set it down in front of her.
"Here you go doll-face. One extra large burger. Didn't know what you liked, so we got it with everything."
Alice gave her captor something between a fake smile and real grimace as she reached for the bag. The other man set down the cup nearby.
"Here's a large water to go with it. Not great stuff, but better than what comes out of the piping in this place."
Alice glanced up at them as she drew the wrapped food out of the bag.
"Are, are you going to let me out soon?"
"Sure babe," the slightly handsomer one winked at her. "As soon as it gets dark enough to. After we have a little fun. Okay?"
She tried to smile as she chewed, and nearly made a face instead. Why had the cook been so generous with the onions?
. . .
Madge scrubbed at the egg sticking to the skillet with a glare.
"I don't think eggy breakfasts are worth it."
Mr. Pennyworth smiled while holding the drying cloth beside her.
"Mrs. Wayne used to say similar things when she insisted on helping me."
Madge's head turned to face him as her eyebrows rose. "Mrs. Wayne did dishes?"
The butler nodded.
"On her mornings off, Saturdays and Sundays usually."
Madge handed the cleaned skillet to the butler.
"She worked?"
Mr. Pennyworth nodded again as he took the pan from her and began to rub the moisture off its shining surface.
"She was a teacher. Substituted grades Kindergarten through twelfth."
Madge continued to wash a delicate glass with a thoughtful expression on her face.
"You know teach, before I came to Gotham, I thought there weren't any nice people in the world. Then I came to Gotham and I was sure of it. Turns out, I just showed up a decade and a half late, and a few years early."
"Your age makes it rather impossible for you to have shown up that early, as for late, one is never too late if they come while there is still work to be done and they are capable of doing it."
. . .
The boat swayed beneath her and Alice leaned with it. Her stomach clenched. Nausea washed through her, but she kept her jaw clenched tight. She didn't want any other boats rocked. The men had driven her to the docks and put her on this boat. Her stomach clenched again when she wondered about this, but she didn't ask.
Suddenly a bridge loomed up before her. She tried to place it, but failed. After arriving by train she hadn't been out of the Red Light District much. As the small tugboat was enveloped by the structure's shadow, she thought they'd go right under it, but suddenly the chuggin of the engine stopped.
Alice jumped. One of the men chuckled.
"It's okay sweetie. We're just going to take a walk now."
"Walk?"
"Well, a walk, after a climb."
A light swung upwards and Alice's jaw dropped. The bottom of a ladder hung over the highest point of the boat. Her legs began to shake. Her head swept back and forth.
"No, no, I can't."
A hand gripped her upper arm and squeezed. Yet the man's voice came out sweet in her ears, sweet and strong, and determined.
"Sure you can."
But Alice wasn't as afraid of what she'd been through a hundred times before as what she was now.
"No. No I can't."
The other man's voice broke in.
"Just drag her up there."
He did. He dragged her up to that point and hoisted her up to the first rung. Now his voice came out not sweet at all.
"You make me put you down, and I'll tell Samson. He'll never want to see your sorry carcass again."
Alice gulped. She raised her hands and grabbed the first rung. Then she began to climb. The man behind her called up encouragement.
"That's a good girl."
. . .
The light was on in Madge's room. The drapes were pulled away from the window. Something square shaped and the size of his palm was silhouetted near the center of the pane. The Batman lowered himself onto the fire-escape and examined the item more careful. It was flat, thin, and taped to the glass he removed it with the ripping, suction sound of peeling tape.
He held it up close to his face. Glossy surface, white, folded in fourths. He unfolded it with the thumb of the hand holding it and then the index finger of his other hand. A map of Gotham and the surrounding area, shades of gray with thin black lines for roads and tiny black squares and dots for points of interest. There was also one recently added "x" mark made with a red-inked pen. As the paper unfolded entirely by the forces of gravity and a sudden breeze another piece of square, glossy paper fell out and onto the fire-escape floor. He knelt and picked it up, tuning it over as her brought it closer to his nose and eyes. He squinted, not in difficulty seeing, but anger. It was a picture of a smiling, innocent face of a girl, one he hadn't seen leaving this apartment building that night.
. . .
Alice almost screamed in relief when her hand touched a flat surface instead of another rung. She scrambled up, lay down on the cold, metal surface and just breathed. She couldn't see a thing in the darkness, but something told her that was a good thing. There was a grunt and then a click right where she had just been. Then her eyes were overwhelmed with light. The now familiarly low, sweet voice sounded behind the beam.
"Well we both made it sweetheart. We're half way there."
Alice nodded, even though she had no idea what he was talking about.
He stepped up beside her, then past her. Alice could hear the other man talking to himself on the ladder just below her. The first man turned and help his hand out.
"Come on toots. No use stopping now."
Alice held her hand out. He grabbed it and pulled her to her feet. Then he shown the flashlight back down to the top of the ladder as the other man's head appeared in the beam. He yelled something and the man holding her hand laughed.
"Catch up, Sunshine, before the girl and I leave you behind."
He backed up a step and pointed the light to where she had been lying a moment before. The other man got off the ladder, stood up, and nodded. The first man squeezed her hand.
"Hold tight to me now sweetie."
He pulled her along. Her empty hand brushed the cold touch of a metal railing. Beyond it was the sensation of an expanse of emptiness. From below their feet came the lap of water on metal and concrete. Above their heads a continuous whooshing and rolling went on.
Alice felt her limbs trembling. The man holding her hand used his other to pat it.
"Now, now sweetie. Everything is going to be all right."
He stopped. The light of his flashlight illuminated a door-handle sticking out of the wall of metal to their left. The hand not holding hers shot out, turned, and yanked it. The groan of little-used metal hinges rotating slammed through the air. Then his flashlight lit up a doorway to their right. He went in and pulled her after him. Beyond was a stairway. They seemed to go up for several minutes. The man behind her was puffing. Pain shot through her arm as she struggled to keep up with the one pulling her onward.
Then he stopped and she just kept herself from bumping into him. She saw in the flashlight beam a door handle he gripped then he swept the beam into her face.
"Wanna see what we came up here for?"
She gave a small smile and nod. He pushed the door open and stepped out. Alice stepped out with him and froze. Beneath them ran a river of lights, car lights zooming over the river of dark water beneath them. underneath their feet. On either side smaller lights lit up the extension cables of the bridge. Beyond were the lights of Gotham city against the backdrop of the dark sky. Her jaw dropped. Suddenly the man's arms pulled her close. She was crushed to his chest, breathing in his breath. He was smiling at her.
"Ever kiss someone this high up?"
Alice gave a more real smile she had since the night before and shook her head. He kissed her. She melted in relief.
So this was what all this was about. He probably wanted to do several other things. Then he'd take her home and she could be in Samson's arms again. She and this man broke apart. He smiled at her again.
"Get the chains."
She frowned up at him. Then a jingle made her head turn to see the other man pulling them out of the back-pack he'd been wearing. She trembled slightly, but didn't do much else. She just had to survive this and then she'd go home.
She didn't say anything as they chained her to a metal crossbeam of the support beam. The man grinned at her again kissed her, lifted his hat from his head, and said "Nice knowing you toots." Then he turned away.
Nothing she yelled made him or the other man turn back as they left her there and shut the door behind them.
. . .
The building stood just to the right of the bridge along the river. From there he could watch the cars driving over Queen Bridge. He could also look through the trellises of the towers holding the structure up.
Deadshot reached up to adjust his eyepiece. A smirk spread over his face. There she was. Shivering from exertion or cold. It was a warm summer night, but he could feel for himself that the winds were making it chilly two-hundred floors above the streets. Her tiny skirt was plastered to her legs by the gusts.
The sniper smiled. It was almost a shame really. She did look like a sweet little thing, but she'd probably survive this, if the mark was considerate enough to show up within the next hour. The mark was described as a foot and a half taller than this little baby. So that gap in the trellis above her head should give him a nice view of the mark's lower head and upper neck. The bullet would angle down through the two sets of trellis of the first support beam, then through the first of the second, pierce through the cowl, and enter the mark's brain-stem. Another perfect, impossible shot.
Sorry this update took so long. Writer's block has been strangling this story for months now. I will admit I have never gotten an up-close look at the under or insides of an enormous bridge. I attempted research, but if I wrote something impossible with bridge construction in the real world, please just go with it or tell me how to fix it.
Reviews are much appreciated and often responded to. They tell me what I did right so I can do more of it and what I did wrong so I can fix it.