Terry stretched luxuriously. The sun was just climbing over the rooftops;
the sheer curtains in Dana's apartment filtered the morning light with a
warm glow. Terry propped himself up on one elbow and watched Dana sleep for
a moment. He still marveled at the engagement ring on her finger, even
though she's worn it for two weeks now, and he had bought it nearly three
months before. He could hardly believe that ten years passed since the day
they met. Those years were marked with so much turmoil: Juvenile Hall, his
father's death, a huge secret, and finally its revelation. Yet somehow they
kept returning to one another. Whether because of fate or familiarity, he
supposed, they were meant for each other.
Terry got up silently, walked to the bathroom and started the shower. He loved how clean Dana's apartment always felt, and how it smelled so fresh. His apartment, by contrast, managed to always produce an odor of wet laundry and sunflower seeds. Terry inhaled the steam, eyes closed, before reaching for the shampoo. "Room for me?" Dana's voice called from the other side of the curtain. Not waiting for an answer, she drew the curtain aside and stepped in. Her body molded to his as she held him tight around the waist. He returned the embrace and lowered his head to kiss he.
"I didn't want to wake you," he said, only slightly loosening his hold.
"No, I need to get up," she responded. "I've got some errands before work." Dana reached for the soap. "What about you, why are you up so early?" she said lightly, eyeing his yellowing bruises,
"Gotta get to the office this morning. Don't want to give people more reasons to gossip about me," he joked, rinsing off the lather. Dana edged in for some more water.
"Oh, is it getting thick again? Anything juicy?"
"I think it's just the same stuff," he answered, leaning against the shower wall as Dana finished up. "But with all the layoff rumors, people are starting up again with the whole 'Bruce's pet boy' bullshit."
"Oh, well I wouldn't worry. Now if they started saying you were gay," she jabbed, to which Terry had to retaliate.
He pressed his body hard against Dana's, her back to the shower wall. She drew in a sharp breath. Terry's lips brushed her ear. "Would a gay guy spend so much time where I did last night?" He kissed her deeply, as if he were taking what belonged to him. Dana sighed into his mouth, thrusting her fingers into his thick hair.
++++++++++++
Several blocks away, Melanie and Jack were moving out of the Roseland Motel. Their possessions fit nearly into five moving boxes. The new apartment wasn't far - still in the unrestored section of Old Gotham - but it felt like the Ritz Carlton compared to their old digs. The one-bedroom apartment actually had a kitchenette and small refrigerator - no more eating fast food morning, noon, and night. It was also furnished with a small dining table, sofa, and two twin beds. Now they both had a place so sleep. Their new home was a little worn and very dingy, but Melanie didn't care.
Sarah had arranged a "relocation" advance on Melanie's behalf. After paying the security deposit and rent, she had enough for some basic house wares, a few work outfits, and most importantly, a month's supply of antibiotics for Jack. Arty Quinzel, their old boss, also gave her a hundred creds on her last day at the diner. The wiry, narrow-faced man gave her a long hug "Stay strong, he said, "and build a good life for yourself." He patted her cheek fondly, and sent her off. Melanie never understood why, of all the people who turned her down, Arty was so willing to give her and Jack a chance. But there was little that anyone understood about this kind, and very private, man.
With so few belongings, Jack and Melanie were completely moved in by afternoon. Melanie plopped down on the couch next to Jack.
"This feels good," she sighs. Jack surveyed the room, nodding.
"Yeah, and it's all because of you, sis," he smiled. "I'm so proud of you." Melanie grinned.
"I know, I can't believe how lucky we got. I just wish - you know - that we could tell them we're doing OK," she said softly.
"Fuck 'em," Jack replied brusquely. "They didn't care about us, beyond out ability to help with the 'family business'. I though a lot about it after you left, Mel," he continued, "and I realized their behavior was completely selfish. Sure, we had more wealth than we knew what to do with, but we were robbed of any normal family life. So I say, we're in the Web, they can find us if they want." Melanie sighed resignedly. She knew he was right.
"I need to find Terry and thank him - or Batman, I don't know - for all this help," Melanie changed to a happier subject, not wanting to feel sad today. "I couldn't believe he'd help me, so quickly even. Do you think maybe they're really good friends, and Terry did it as a favor to Batman?"
"Or maybe Terry did it because he like you?" Jack countered. "I don't know who can be Batman's friend, he doesn't exactly hang out in bars." Melanie put up her hand and shook her head.
"No, I can't even think about Terry liking me, Jack," she said," it'll make me crazy. But it's making me se Batman in a different light - like he's some kind of guardian angel," she said with a funny smile, not sure how Jack would respond. He shrugged. "It sounds crazy, but I think I need to thank him, or repay him, or something."
"You mean Batman? How would you even do that?" Jack laughed. "Buy him fuel cells for his car? But seriously Mel, life is just starting to turn around for you. For us. Don't do anything to jeopardize it." He searched her eyes for agreement. Reluctantly, she gave it to him, nodding and dropping the subject.
++++++++++++++++++++
Within the Cuvier building, past the sleeping, homeless forms curled up in the lobby, two men walked through a crude laboratory. Thick plastic curtains partitioned the various stations, all illuminated with harsh fluorescent lights. The taller man led, and it was clear he was the host, and bringing a guest on a facilities tour. His guest was a man called Martin, though he was careful not to reveal his name. Martin was in his mid- thirties, quiet, with sandy blonde hair. The taller man had striking features - feline eyes, pointed teeth. This was Cuvier. He spoke with ease and poise. If it weren't for the makeshift surroundings, he'd appear to be an executive making a marketing pitch to a prospective client.
"If you watch the news, you'll know that infertility is no longer suspicious. Men and women wait to start families, almost into their forties, which results in nonviable ova and defective sperm." They strolled leisurely past some scientists. "Artificial estrogens in our environment also serve to reduce sperm count. The effects are so prevalent; the percentage of couples conceiving without laboratory assistance is only about 30%. The key to our operations is to ensure the nonviability of embryos." He paused, letting his guest absorb that point before continuing.
"As populations decrease, critical mass is lost, and extinction becomes eminent. Like in the wild." Cuvier stopped and picked up a vial. "This is enough serum to affect fifty women. We are targeting the females since males produce new sperm every 36 hours, while a woman is born with all her ova. We believe the mutagen will be more effective on ova. If I am correct, you have targeted the Cohanin genes, found mostly in Jewish bloodlines?" his guest nodded. "Then since we are in agreement, I can tell you our target launch date is in two weeks."
"Wonderful. That's good news. And you can ship it direct to Africa?" Cuvier assented.
"You wanted the mutagen delivered inside polio vaccine serum. That will be no problem for my associates. But I am curious; there are more available test subjects in Israel. Why are you targeting Africa first?"
"Because Africa's a piece of shit," Martin answered quietly.
+++++++++++++++++
DISCLAIMER The author doesn't truly think Africa's a piece of shit. As it is quite possibly the birthplace of human civilization, and even if it isn't, that's just not true. There will be more explanation later.
While nearly all these characters and places belong to someone else (DC Comics or WB), the following are my creations: Arty Quinzel, Sarah Givens, and Martin. Since these people are ideas, and ideas should be freely shared, they can be borrowed if desired. In fact I'd probably be flattered that you'd use them, even if it were to run them over with a truck (.
Terry got up silently, walked to the bathroom and started the shower. He loved how clean Dana's apartment always felt, and how it smelled so fresh. His apartment, by contrast, managed to always produce an odor of wet laundry and sunflower seeds. Terry inhaled the steam, eyes closed, before reaching for the shampoo. "Room for me?" Dana's voice called from the other side of the curtain. Not waiting for an answer, she drew the curtain aside and stepped in. Her body molded to his as she held him tight around the waist. He returned the embrace and lowered his head to kiss he.
"I didn't want to wake you," he said, only slightly loosening his hold.
"No, I need to get up," she responded. "I've got some errands before work." Dana reached for the soap. "What about you, why are you up so early?" she said lightly, eyeing his yellowing bruises,
"Gotta get to the office this morning. Don't want to give people more reasons to gossip about me," he joked, rinsing off the lather. Dana edged in for some more water.
"Oh, is it getting thick again? Anything juicy?"
"I think it's just the same stuff," he answered, leaning against the shower wall as Dana finished up. "But with all the layoff rumors, people are starting up again with the whole 'Bruce's pet boy' bullshit."
"Oh, well I wouldn't worry. Now if they started saying you were gay," she jabbed, to which Terry had to retaliate.
He pressed his body hard against Dana's, her back to the shower wall. She drew in a sharp breath. Terry's lips brushed her ear. "Would a gay guy spend so much time where I did last night?" He kissed her deeply, as if he were taking what belonged to him. Dana sighed into his mouth, thrusting her fingers into his thick hair.
++++++++++++
Several blocks away, Melanie and Jack were moving out of the Roseland Motel. Their possessions fit nearly into five moving boxes. The new apartment wasn't far - still in the unrestored section of Old Gotham - but it felt like the Ritz Carlton compared to their old digs. The one-bedroom apartment actually had a kitchenette and small refrigerator - no more eating fast food morning, noon, and night. It was also furnished with a small dining table, sofa, and two twin beds. Now they both had a place so sleep. Their new home was a little worn and very dingy, but Melanie didn't care.
Sarah had arranged a "relocation" advance on Melanie's behalf. After paying the security deposit and rent, she had enough for some basic house wares, a few work outfits, and most importantly, a month's supply of antibiotics for Jack. Arty Quinzel, their old boss, also gave her a hundred creds on her last day at the diner. The wiry, narrow-faced man gave her a long hug "Stay strong, he said, "and build a good life for yourself." He patted her cheek fondly, and sent her off. Melanie never understood why, of all the people who turned her down, Arty was so willing to give her and Jack a chance. But there was little that anyone understood about this kind, and very private, man.
With so few belongings, Jack and Melanie were completely moved in by afternoon. Melanie plopped down on the couch next to Jack.
"This feels good," she sighs. Jack surveyed the room, nodding.
"Yeah, and it's all because of you, sis," he smiled. "I'm so proud of you." Melanie grinned.
"I know, I can't believe how lucky we got. I just wish - you know - that we could tell them we're doing OK," she said softly.
"Fuck 'em," Jack replied brusquely. "They didn't care about us, beyond out ability to help with the 'family business'. I though a lot about it after you left, Mel," he continued, "and I realized their behavior was completely selfish. Sure, we had more wealth than we knew what to do with, but we were robbed of any normal family life. So I say, we're in the Web, they can find us if they want." Melanie sighed resignedly. She knew he was right.
"I need to find Terry and thank him - or Batman, I don't know - for all this help," Melanie changed to a happier subject, not wanting to feel sad today. "I couldn't believe he'd help me, so quickly even. Do you think maybe they're really good friends, and Terry did it as a favor to Batman?"
"Or maybe Terry did it because he like you?" Jack countered. "I don't know who can be Batman's friend, he doesn't exactly hang out in bars." Melanie put up her hand and shook her head.
"No, I can't even think about Terry liking me, Jack," she said," it'll make me crazy. But it's making me se Batman in a different light - like he's some kind of guardian angel," she said with a funny smile, not sure how Jack would respond. He shrugged. "It sounds crazy, but I think I need to thank him, or repay him, or something."
"You mean Batman? How would you even do that?" Jack laughed. "Buy him fuel cells for his car? But seriously Mel, life is just starting to turn around for you. For us. Don't do anything to jeopardize it." He searched her eyes for agreement. Reluctantly, she gave it to him, nodding and dropping the subject.
++++++++++++++++++++
Within the Cuvier building, past the sleeping, homeless forms curled up in the lobby, two men walked through a crude laboratory. Thick plastic curtains partitioned the various stations, all illuminated with harsh fluorescent lights. The taller man led, and it was clear he was the host, and bringing a guest on a facilities tour. His guest was a man called Martin, though he was careful not to reveal his name. Martin was in his mid- thirties, quiet, with sandy blonde hair. The taller man had striking features - feline eyes, pointed teeth. This was Cuvier. He spoke with ease and poise. If it weren't for the makeshift surroundings, he'd appear to be an executive making a marketing pitch to a prospective client.
"If you watch the news, you'll know that infertility is no longer suspicious. Men and women wait to start families, almost into their forties, which results in nonviable ova and defective sperm." They strolled leisurely past some scientists. "Artificial estrogens in our environment also serve to reduce sperm count. The effects are so prevalent; the percentage of couples conceiving without laboratory assistance is only about 30%. The key to our operations is to ensure the nonviability of embryos." He paused, letting his guest absorb that point before continuing.
"As populations decrease, critical mass is lost, and extinction becomes eminent. Like in the wild." Cuvier stopped and picked up a vial. "This is enough serum to affect fifty women. We are targeting the females since males produce new sperm every 36 hours, while a woman is born with all her ova. We believe the mutagen will be more effective on ova. If I am correct, you have targeted the Cohanin genes, found mostly in Jewish bloodlines?" his guest nodded. "Then since we are in agreement, I can tell you our target launch date is in two weeks."
"Wonderful. That's good news. And you can ship it direct to Africa?" Cuvier assented.
"You wanted the mutagen delivered inside polio vaccine serum. That will be no problem for my associates. But I am curious; there are more available test subjects in Israel. Why are you targeting Africa first?"
"Because Africa's a piece of shit," Martin answered quietly.
+++++++++++++++++
DISCLAIMER The author doesn't truly think Africa's a piece of shit. As it is quite possibly the birthplace of human civilization, and even if it isn't, that's just not true. There will be more explanation later.
While nearly all these characters and places belong to someone else (DC Comics or WB), the following are my creations: Arty Quinzel, Sarah Givens, and Martin. Since these people are ideas, and ideas should be freely shared, they can be borrowed if desired. In fact I'd probably be flattered that you'd use them, even if it were to run them over with a truck (.