"Terry," Bruce's voice came through the comlink, "head to the Vreeland
Plaza, room 10137. Devon is ready to strike, and you need to stop her."
Terry steered toward upper Gotham. Strange, he thought, is that feedback
coming from the comlink? Terry turned down his MP3 player, and listened
closely. It sounded like - slurping?
"Uh, you have any more details than that?" Terry kept listening. Bruce usually spewed excessive amounts of data at him, but this time he was silent. Terry heard more slurps, and some whispers from a female voice. What was the old guy doing? Does he watch giant porn on that huge monitor while I'm on patrol? Terry thought, both disgusted and amused.
"Just do it, McGinnis!" he barked. Before Bruce closed the line, Terry thought he heard him say, "Turn around - oh yeah." Terry shuddered.
"That's it, I'll never try to steal the big chair again - you've just ruined it for me forever," he proclaimed to the dead air. Terry felt dirty all over, and just wanted to scrub his ears out with lye. I guess this was Hannah's hold over Bruce - the hold all women had over heterosexual men - Terry thought. Even still, there was something else that seemed strange about Bruce, although he couldn't describe it. I guess I'm on my own tonight, Terry mused.
The Plaza was just ahead. Terry sped past, deciding to find what he hoped would be a reliable source of information about the "good old days".
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Hannah Sinclair?" Barbara Gordon nearly choked. "She was the easiest lay of all the Gotham debutantes. You name one guy," her voice dropped, "you name one guy who didn't get a piece of that ass, and I swear, he must be either gay or dead." They sat facing each other in a near-deserted coffee shop. Terry switched back into his street clothes for this meeting. He loved having these talks with the Commish - Bruce could be so tight-lipped. Terry leaned forward conspiringly.
"Well I think our friend is getting a piece of that ass right now, as we speak." Barbara's eyebrows shot up.
"No!"
"I'm dead serious - I could hear things," he admitted, sick all over again from the recollection. Barbara sat back.
"No way, not without roofies or something similar," she said. "After he found out what she was really after, he would never let her back." Terry cocked his head, causing Barbara to smile, thinking how he must have learned the art of persuasion from Ace. "Maybe thirty years ago, Bruce was dating Hannah. It was his 'good girl' phase - relative term that 'good girl' is - he thought maybe that's what he needed to get Selina Kyle out of his system. After a few months, he noticed things were 'missing' from the Manor. He didn't want to believe it was her doing - he really did care about her, in that injured bird sort of way. But the Bat inside him couldn't let it go, so he tracked her. After about three days, he watched her pocket about ten thousand creds' worth of jewelry and cash." She took a long sip of her latte.
"I knew I didn't like her, Commish - something I couldn't trust about her," Terry said, idly dunking his donut into his coffee.
"And you shouldn't, kid," was her response.
+++++++++++++++++++
Batman parked on the Plaza rooftop and jumped off the building. His wings snapped open, and directed him to the balcony of Devon's hotel room. He activated his cloaking device, and peered through the French doors. He saw the front door closing, a swish of black fabric escaping down the hall. Batman dove off again, this time to the ground floor. Terry banked on Devon going to the valet for her car. He was right. As her black Porsche slowed to an idle, he placed a tracer under the rear bumper, and slipped away.
The Batman tailed her for several blocks. She pulled into a narrow alley and enabled the car's cloaking feature. Choosing to park on a rooftop again, he followed her from above. She walked for about a block before entering a sleek apartment building. Fortunately, this building had enough windows that he could watch her movement from across the street. When Devon stopped to knock on a door, Terry soared around the building to the back window of the apartment. From his perch, he watched as a middle-aged woman answered the door. The apartment held a multitude of feline statues and artwork - there was no question of who this gray-haired woman was. Terry placed two fingers on the window and listened.
"Do I know you?" Selina greeted flatly. Devon, the larger of the two women, pushed past her.
"Just give me what's mine, and I'll be on my way." She stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, Selina's mouth curled into a sly grin.
"Aah, the cupcake is back for her pretty," she said. "You've been away so long, I thought you'd forgotten about it." She closed the gap between them. Devon stood fast.
"I'm not leaving until I get it, Selina," she replied. Selina kept smiling.
"You know, I just don't remember where I put it - did I fence it, or just sell it on eBay?" she looked up at the ceiling and tapped her chin mockingly.
"Then let me help you remember," Devon snapped, snatching an alabaster cat and hurling it against the wall. "oh, I guess not all cats land on their feet," she said innocently after the statue fell broken on the floor. A scowl darkened Selina's features.
"That's it, cupcake, you're getting that spanking Daddy never gave you!" she leapt forward and made contact to Devon's jaw with her foot. Devon fell to her back as Selina stood over her menacingly. She didn't expect Devon to topple her with a strong leg sweep. Terry didn't know what to do - shouldn't he intervene - but if so, on whose behalf? He continued watching the gray-haired ladies exchange blows.
"That's OK, I've been drinking my milk," Selina taunted, "It'll take more than that to even hurt me." She threw herself again at Devon, this time leaping onto her and pinning her shoulders back. She landed a few solid head blows before Devon threw Selina off and picked herself up, lungs heaving. Selina was in better shape than Devon, Terry thought, and in a few minutes the society girl would be Selina's plaything. Eyes still on the battling women, he reached for his cel phone and called Gotham PD.
"Yes, I'd like to report a complaint," he started, in his Terry voice. "At the Astoria, room 77M. Sounds like domestic abuse, or a fight - can you send some officers over? Yes, I'm sure of the address. Great - thanks so much." He clicked the phone off and smiled. With any luck, the GCPD will arrest both these women, and leave him the opportunity to search Selina's apartment.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Craig was unfamiliar with lower Gotham. He followed the street signs to their designated meeting spot, constantly looking over his shoulders and pulling his hat further down over his eyes. After one of these quick glances around, he appeared. The tall, tattooed man stood only a foot away from him, and seemed to come from nowhere. He looked sternly down at Craig. Nervously, Craig dug into his pocket for the photograph.
"I need you to do a job for me," he started as he handed over the picture. The Stalker coolly studied the woman's face. "She's here in town, shouldn't be hard to find. I can even tell you what car she drives. If that helps."
"I'm not an assassin. There are others you can contact for this cheap diversion. What is the thrill in this hunt?"
"Money. I can give you lots of it - once the job is done." He handed Stalker a piece of paper with an amount scrawled on one side. Stalker raised an eyebrow, suddenly more interested. Craig started feeling bolder.
"So are you in?"
the one they call Dupidnavagog
"Uh, you have any more details than that?" Terry kept listening. Bruce usually spewed excessive amounts of data at him, but this time he was silent. Terry heard more slurps, and some whispers from a female voice. What was the old guy doing? Does he watch giant porn on that huge monitor while I'm on patrol? Terry thought, both disgusted and amused.
"Just do it, McGinnis!" he barked. Before Bruce closed the line, Terry thought he heard him say, "Turn around - oh yeah." Terry shuddered.
"That's it, I'll never try to steal the big chair again - you've just ruined it for me forever," he proclaimed to the dead air. Terry felt dirty all over, and just wanted to scrub his ears out with lye. I guess this was Hannah's hold over Bruce - the hold all women had over heterosexual men - Terry thought. Even still, there was something else that seemed strange about Bruce, although he couldn't describe it. I guess I'm on my own tonight, Terry mused.
The Plaza was just ahead. Terry sped past, deciding to find what he hoped would be a reliable source of information about the "good old days".
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Hannah Sinclair?" Barbara Gordon nearly choked. "She was the easiest lay of all the Gotham debutantes. You name one guy," her voice dropped, "you name one guy who didn't get a piece of that ass, and I swear, he must be either gay or dead." They sat facing each other in a near-deserted coffee shop. Terry switched back into his street clothes for this meeting. He loved having these talks with the Commish - Bruce could be so tight-lipped. Terry leaned forward conspiringly.
"Well I think our friend is getting a piece of that ass right now, as we speak." Barbara's eyebrows shot up.
"No!"
"I'm dead serious - I could hear things," he admitted, sick all over again from the recollection. Barbara sat back.
"No way, not without roofies or something similar," she said. "After he found out what she was really after, he would never let her back." Terry cocked his head, causing Barbara to smile, thinking how he must have learned the art of persuasion from Ace. "Maybe thirty years ago, Bruce was dating Hannah. It was his 'good girl' phase - relative term that 'good girl' is - he thought maybe that's what he needed to get Selina Kyle out of his system. After a few months, he noticed things were 'missing' from the Manor. He didn't want to believe it was her doing - he really did care about her, in that injured bird sort of way. But the Bat inside him couldn't let it go, so he tracked her. After about three days, he watched her pocket about ten thousand creds' worth of jewelry and cash." She took a long sip of her latte.
"I knew I didn't like her, Commish - something I couldn't trust about her," Terry said, idly dunking his donut into his coffee.
"And you shouldn't, kid," was her response.
+++++++++++++++++++
Batman parked on the Plaza rooftop and jumped off the building. His wings snapped open, and directed him to the balcony of Devon's hotel room. He activated his cloaking device, and peered through the French doors. He saw the front door closing, a swish of black fabric escaping down the hall. Batman dove off again, this time to the ground floor. Terry banked on Devon going to the valet for her car. He was right. As her black Porsche slowed to an idle, he placed a tracer under the rear bumper, and slipped away.
The Batman tailed her for several blocks. She pulled into a narrow alley and enabled the car's cloaking feature. Choosing to park on a rooftop again, he followed her from above. She walked for about a block before entering a sleek apartment building. Fortunately, this building had enough windows that he could watch her movement from across the street. When Devon stopped to knock on a door, Terry soared around the building to the back window of the apartment. From his perch, he watched as a middle-aged woman answered the door. The apartment held a multitude of feline statues and artwork - there was no question of who this gray-haired woman was. Terry placed two fingers on the window and listened.
"Do I know you?" Selina greeted flatly. Devon, the larger of the two women, pushed past her.
"Just give me what's mine, and I'll be on my way." She stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, Selina's mouth curled into a sly grin.
"Aah, the cupcake is back for her pretty," she said. "You've been away so long, I thought you'd forgotten about it." She closed the gap between them. Devon stood fast.
"I'm not leaving until I get it, Selina," she replied. Selina kept smiling.
"You know, I just don't remember where I put it - did I fence it, or just sell it on eBay?" she looked up at the ceiling and tapped her chin mockingly.
"Then let me help you remember," Devon snapped, snatching an alabaster cat and hurling it against the wall. "oh, I guess not all cats land on their feet," she said innocently after the statue fell broken on the floor. A scowl darkened Selina's features.
"That's it, cupcake, you're getting that spanking Daddy never gave you!" she leapt forward and made contact to Devon's jaw with her foot. Devon fell to her back as Selina stood over her menacingly. She didn't expect Devon to topple her with a strong leg sweep. Terry didn't know what to do - shouldn't he intervene - but if so, on whose behalf? He continued watching the gray-haired ladies exchange blows.
"That's OK, I've been drinking my milk," Selina taunted, "It'll take more than that to even hurt me." She threw herself again at Devon, this time leaping onto her and pinning her shoulders back. She landed a few solid head blows before Devon threw Selina off and picked herself up, lungs heaving. Selina was in better shape than Devon, Terry thought, and in a few minutes the society girl would be Selina's plaything. Eyes still on the battling women, he reached for his cel phone and called Gotham PD.
"Yes, I'd like to report a complaint," he started, in his Terry voice. "At the Astoria, room 77M. Sounds like domestic abuse, or a fight - can you send some officers over? Yes, I'm sure of the address. Great - thanks so much." He clicked the phone off and smiled. With any luck, the GCPD will arrest both these women, and leave him the opportunity to search Selina's apartment.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Craig was unfamiliar with lower Gotham. He followed the street signs to their designated meeting spot, constantly looking over his shoulders and pulling his hat further down over his eyes. After one of these quick glances around, he appeared. The tall, tattooed man stood only a foot away from him, and seemed to come from nowhere. He looked sternly down at Craig. Nervously, Craig dug into his pocket for the photograph.
"I need you to do a job for me," he started as he handed over the picture. The Stalker coolly studied the woman's face. "She's here in town, shouldn't be hard to find. I can even tell you what car she drives. If that helps."
"I'm not an assassin. There are others you can contact for this cheap diversion. What is the thrill in this hunt?"
"Money. I can give you lots of it - once the job is done." He handed Stalker a piece of paper with an amount scrawled on one side. Stalker raised an eyebrow, suddenly more interested. Craig started feeling bolder.
"So are you in?"
the one they call Dupidnavagog
