In the Shadow of the Bat
Freaks and Geeks
The world isn't kind to you if you're different. It was a lesson that Mary Scott knew well, and that had been driven into her at a early age. Born to a seemingly normal family Mary was different from birth, a premature, small, and sickly baby. Her paleness was originally thought to be temporary, but soon she was also diagnosed with albinism.
It's hard enough being a child, but one with pale skin and pink eyes? It was hell, in their perfect suburban neighborhood. Mary did her best to be unnoticed, to keep her head down, but when the kids needed someone to pick on, they found her. Some teachers tried to help, some kids too, but none of it was enough to protect her.
Leaving school was a relief, but finding a job and surviving was a whole new problem. Positions were mysteriously full when she applied, and people were visibly uncomfortable around her. Thank god for telemarketing jobs, they hired anyone with a clear voice and willingness to recite a script.
Mary got by, saving her money and using the food bank occasionally, but she wondered 'Is this it? Is this all I can be?'
Like many reclusive people, Mary had discovered like minded people on the internet. Using a box salvaged from the garbage and a cheap dial-up plan she searched the net, discovering communities for people who looked different. She exchanged mail, chatted and eventually found out about a place where someone different had a chance to get ahead: Gotham.
Mary had been pretty dubious, at first. Gotham had a reputation, even in the small town Mary lived in, but talking with friends encouraged her. YES, there were crazy people running around in costumes killing people, but your chances of getting killed were about the same as being hit by a car. A small price to pay, for living in a town where you weren't sneered at.
Mustering her courage Mary quit her job, gathered up her meager savings and headed to the big city. The bus ride cross country had been pretty damn unpleasant, Mary staking out a window seat and sleeping in snatched moments as they rumbled along. The number of people on the bus waned as they went, and by the time they hit the central bus depot in Gotham, she was the last one left.
"Good luck, miss," the driver nodded as she got off.
"Thank you," Mary smiled, sunglasses shielding her light sensitive eyes.
Finding a place to live was surprisingly easy, especially since Mary wasn't terribly picky. A job only took a day or so, to her shock. The stories she had heard were true, it seemed, people here really didn't seem to care much what you looked like.
The dingy adult theater was in 'old' Gotham, partially rebuilt from the quake but more run-down than other parts of town. The streets weren't safe, really, though Mary had been amused to discover that being a creepy looking albino was it's own protection.
"This is a stick up!" the mugger yelled on one of her first night shifts, emerging from the alley holding a gun in his shaking hand.
"Sorry, I'm broke," Mary had answered, her pale skin shining and not wearing her shades. Unlike back in the boonies she wasn't wearing extra clothes to hide her albinism, for once in her life just dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.
"Oh crap," the mugger muttered, "you're some kinda costumed freak, aren't you?" He dropped the gun, backing away, "Sorry to bother you!"
As he bolted Mary waved, "Bye."
It was... weird, but kind of fun, being mistaken for a super villain. Mary walked home as usual, going up to her room in the dive motel and relaxing with a sigh on the bed. She resolved to do some dumpster diving in the expensive part of town, she needed a computer to replace the one she abandoned, and she wanted to hook up with any online friends in the city.
The city by day was very different than the city at night, Mary noted, squinting behind her sunglasses. She wore a long, battered coat and a medical mask to help shield her sensitive skin from the sun, stalking along busy streets with a hat pulled down over her face. People noticed the pale skin, some edging away and others looking curious.
"Miss, you okay?" a beat cop asked, the young man looking at her with concern.
Mary sighed, wishing people wouldn't bother her. 'Then again,' she admitted, 'I guess I do look kind of suspicious.' Aloud she said to the nice man, "I'm fine, officer. I have a condition that causes me to be very light sensitive."
"I see," the man who's name tag said 'Chambers' blinked, looking at the medical card the woman handed to him. "Sorry for the trouble," he handed it back, "have a nice day."
"Thank you," Mary nodded, moving on.
Dumpster diving behind several companies gave Mary a partially complete computer, a few hard drives and materials she figured she could use to fix it. She also found a older monitor that seemed intact, and using a shopping cart she loaded up her stuff and headed out. She would have preferred a new machine, of course, but there was just no way she could afford it.
Assembling her 'new' machine would have to wait, night shift at the porn theater called once again. Mary walked to work once more, nodding hello to the afternoon girl as she changed into the simple uniform of blouse, skirt and old fashioned cap. Then she took up her position in the booth, smiling at the people and selling tickets to 'Mindy does Metropolis.'
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Because Bruce Wayne was a philanthropist as well as a businessman, his CEO Lucius Fox often found himself dealing with matters rather separate from usual business concerns. He watched out for charities and other things Bruce could donate to, as well as monitoring changes in the city in general. Today he was passing on a report to Bruce, and he wasn't sure how the man would take it.
"So," Bruce frowned as he studied the document, "Gotham is seeing a decline in the 'middle class' revenue bracket?"
Lucius nodded, "You can phrase it differently, of course. One of my marketing researchers called it the 'average guy' bracket, but that's a touch too broad."
"I suppose," Bruce smiled faintly. He looked out at the city through a window at Wayne Tower, "Do we know why?"
"The contagion, quake and No Man's Land hurt Gotham," Lucius admitted as the African-American looked out at the city too, "but honestly there's only a certain kind of person who can handle Gotham."
"And most people aren't," Bruce said, frowning slightly.
"Yes," Lucius acknowledged calmly. "Which brings up the other part of the report."
"As the average joes leave the jobs are being taken by more unusual people," Bruce noted, skimming the report. "Failed metas, people with physical deformities, medical conditions..."
"We don't keep that close a track on them, but from research they're a growing chunk of our population," Lucius said seriously, "I was wondering if you had a direction in mind we should take?"
"I'm a bit torn, honestly," Bruce admitted, frowning slightly. "One of my goals has always been to try to... restore Gotham to what it was in my parents time."
"Your father was a doctor and your mother a philanthropist too," Lucius noted mildly, "I suspect they'd try to help these people."
"Heh, true," Bruce admitted, smiling slightly. "We should probably push more money into Doctor Hopkins' clinic," he mused.
"And do what we can to make sure they know help is available," Lucius added thoughtfully.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Another night and Mary was working the booth, once again enjoying the freedom to not have to hide her skin and eyes. She felt happy at assembling her computer and getting online again, too, having reconnected to several communities she belonged to. She was looking forward to trying to arrange a face to face meet up of some of her friends in the city, too.
"Uhm, two tickets please?" the blushing man asked, his girlfriend looking amused.
"Sure," Mary said, ringing up the bill then swiping their debit card.
It was boring work, but by god was it better than sitting in a cube calling people and trying to sell them crap. The money was better too, with the whole night shift thing and all. Mary accepted that it was more dangerous, but honestly what wasn't? Crossing the street could get you killed in the wrong part of town.
Looking up Mary saw another customer coming up, and she put on her cheery smile. "How may I help...," she started then froze.
The gun being waved looked big enough to swallow her face, or at least it did being waved in front of her face. The man was wearing clean and starched clothes along with purple gloves. His fave was paler than her's other than the bright red lips, and his hair was the oddest shade of green.
"This is a stick-up," Joker started, then peered at her thoughtfully. "Well, aren't you interesting," he noted.
Mary realized she was going to die, but a odd calm had stolen over her. "You're a bit early in the night, Mr. Joker," she told him, "I've barely got a hundred in my till."
"Well, darn," Joker said casually, using the barrel of the gun to scratch the side of his head. "How did a nice girl like you end up in a town like this?" he asked mockingly, a frightening smile twisting his features.
"Safer than most towns for someone like me," Mary said to him honestly.
"You're about to be robbed or shot by a crazed clown," Joker pointed out.
"As I said," Mary shrugged eloquently, "safer than most towns."
Joker looked at her a moment, then burst into the mad, cackling laughter he was so well known for. "I like you, kid," he noted as he put the gun away, "you'll go far in this city." With that he sauntered off, whistling to himself cheerfully.
Mary pried her fear-stiffened fingers away from the counter and fought not to hyperventilate, leaning against the back of her square booth. With a shaking hand she called the police, then waited while waiting to hear any more mayhem from up the street.
Apparently, mentioning 'Joker' got a fast response from the Gotham Police. Within minutes a squad car was there, coming in silent, and after she pointed where he went they raced after him. Even stranger she thought she saw a... shadow pass by overhead, but that was probably just her imagination.
A few minutes later other police vehicles roared by, and not long after that a armored car-like transport left the area. The first two cops walked up the street to where they had parked by the theater, both looking tired.
"I wish the Bat hadn't swooped in to collar him," the older man muttered, frowning.
"I'm just glad we got him, Harv," the woman answered. She excused herself and walked over to Mary, smiling gently. Holding Mary's hands she gazed into her eyes as she asked, "How are you feeling, Miss? Not too shaken up?"
Mary gazed into her eyes as the cop squeezed her hand gently, smiling. She was surprised to feel herself blush slightly, reading the woman's name tag as she answered, "Just a bit, Officer Hendricks."
"A close encounter with the Joker will do that to you," the woman said. Hendricks took out a business card and wrote on it with a pen, "The first number is victim's services." A faint blush colored her face, "The other is my home number."
"Thank you," Mary said, feeling a bit stunned.
"Call me if you need anything," Hendricks said as she added a bit shyly, "or if you... just need to talk."
Hendricks looked cutely embarrassed, in a charming sort of way. "I will," Mary promised as the other woman walked away.
To be continued...
Notes: This is an idea that occurred to me reading the Batman comics. With all the craziness and mayhem in Gotham, many 'normal' people might decide they can't cope and move away. While at the same time more... unusual people might be drawn to Gotham because of the 'urban legend' of the Batman.