Commissioner Barbara Gordon removes her glasses, squeezes her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose. She's just spent three hours in the interrogation room with one of the Kobras she arrested the night before last. Before that she spent a ridiculous amount of time going through the same song-and-dance with his cronies, a time that, despite her best efforts and those of her staff, proved to be almost completely unproductive. Most of the Kobras were too stubborn to say anything, meeting her questions and statements with insults, threats, and declarations of loyalty to their organization. Those who were persuaded to volunteer information had very little to give, and much of it useless – one of them gave her the location of a hideout, but by the time her people got there it had already been abandoned, and all equipment, data and other potential sources of information had been removed or destroyed. And the appearance of Kitsune, as she called herself, provided yet another mystery for Barbara to be nervous about.
At least she'd managed to get one piece of information out of those grueling hours in the interrogation room. Kobra had been paid to attempt the VibranTech heist. The one who had told her this, though, did not know who had done the hiring or how much money they had put down for the job. His higher-ups, in the typical Kobra way of doing things, had left him in the dark. All she knew was that VibranTech would probably be hit again. It wasn't much, but she'd promised the president of the company that she'd call in with any information she got.
The commissioner puts her glasses back on, making sure they are straight, then smoothes her hair with her hands. She presses one of the buttons on the console set into her desk, and a blank vidscreen rises from the desk in front of her. Then she dials a number on the keypad. It's a special extension that will go directly to the company president's phone instead of being routed to the secretary first. The VibranTech logo, which consists of a picture of the company's name on a shining metal plaque (it looks sort of like an elongated car license plate), appears on the screen. The word 'CALLING…' blinks on and off beneath it for a few seconds before the call goes through and the screen changes to a different picture.
Now she can see the person on the other side of the connection – Natalie Milou, the president of VibranTech industries. She is seated at her desk, part of which is within the vidphone camera's field of view. Behind her chair is a sliding glass door, and beyond that a mid-sized terrace containing a small garden. Even farther away are the rooftops of Gotham City, made hazy by heat and distance, beneath a cloudless blue sky. Ms. Milou herself is a small woman with dark skin and long hair arranged in tiny braids, some of which are pulled back into a sort of ponytail by a pearl-white scarf. Barbara knows that she is somewhere in her late twenties, but her diminutive size and smooth, round face make her look even younger. But the way she behaves, and the way she carries herself, give her an aura of power that is not in any way diminished by her lack of years or height.
"Good afternoon, Commissioner," she says, with a polite smile that seems to have some genuine friendliness behind it. "I hope you have some good news. It's been in rather short supply around here of late." She seems remarkably unconcerned, considering the circumstances, but perhaps she's just treating the whole thing a healthy sense of humor.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Milou. I've got some news for you, but I'm afraid it's not the kind you've been hoping for." At this point, Barbara senses a change in things – there may or may not have been a flicker of motion at the edge of her vision, but in any case that isn't what touched it off. It's something more subtle than that, specifically the familiar non-sound of someone trying not to make any noise. For a fraction of a second, she is alarmed, but she recognizes the texture of the deliberate silence and realizes that it does not signal a threat. She chooses to ignore it, for the time being.
On the other end of the line, Milou's pleasant smile changes into a serious, slightly disappointed expression. "Well," she sighs resignedly, "In this case, bad news is better than no news at all, I suppose."
Barbara nods. "Kobra was hired to steal research and design data from your plant. But the agents we have in custody are too low on the ladder to know who's responsible."
There is a short break in the conversation as Milou thinks this over. "The possibility had occurred to me, though I hoped that it would not be the case. Do you think this will happen again?"
"Possibly," Barbara says, "Although it certainly won't be Kobra next time, and whoever it is will use different tactics. Increasing your security force will help, but you should also check to see if any of your employees have a criminal record. And any computers containing R&D information should be taken off the Net, if they haven't been already." She knows that Milou may not like being given advice about her company's security arrangements – most highly placed executives don't like it – but Barbara's position carries with it the obligation to give such advice, so she does.
This particular executive, however, seems to take it more gracefully - though not gratefully. "Sound advice. Thank you for your help, and please let me know if you find anything else."
"I will," Barbara assures her. "Call me if you make any progress on your end."
Milou gives Barbara a respectful nod, which the latter returns, before she ends the call. The vidphone screen slides back into her desk.
Barbara sits back in her chair and places her hands on the armrests. "I'm not even going to ask how you got in. But next time you want some information from me, you should try asking instead of eavesdropping."
Across the desk and a little to her right, Batman fades into view. "Sorry. I didn't want to interrupt."
"I know you didn't want to attract attention, but you don't have to sneak around when I'm the only one in here. It doesn't work, anyway," she reminds him. Barbara wonders, briefly, if he might be doing it as a sort of personal challenge, trying to perfect his skill to the point where she won't detect him. That doesn't seem to fit with the rest of Terry's personality, but it does fit the personality he takes on when he's wearing the suit. He's not the Batman of old, but he's not himself either. "What did you want to know?"
"First, what you've found out about VibranTech – but I don't need to ask you that now," he says.
"And second, what I know about this Kitsune who just turned up," Barbara guesses. Batman nods. "Nothing that you don't already know. She seems to be keeping her distance from us. I'm concerned about her – and I know you are - but I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt. My people are going to leave her alone, unless she crosses the line." They both know that she did not say that when she was interviewed by reporters – at least, not directly. All she'd said was that the GPD would be keeping a lookout for this mysterious woman, and that they would do everything they could to make sure that she did not do any harm to the citizens of Gotham. Barbara is also keenly and awkwardly aware of the fact that she did not adopt the same laissez-faire attitude towards Batman a year ago, but the working relationship she has with him now is one of the reasons for her current policy towards this new vigilante.
Fortunately Batman is tactful enough to pass over both topics without a word. "I'll look for her, when I can. She might talk to me."
"Maybe," Barbara says. "If she does, let her know that we have no problem with her as long as she behaves."
Batman nods. "There's…one more thing I want to ask you," he says. Barbara can tell, from the sound of his voice, that he's uncomfortable with whatever it is, but really needs to resolve it. "About a girl named Tanya Wooten. She was hit by a stray bullet three days ago. Is she…?" he trails off.
Barbara only has to search her memory for a couple of seconds to connect facts to the name. The department took an interest in the girl's condition, so they would know whether they should charge the Joker who wounded her for assault with a deadly weapon or manslaughter. The commissioner herself took an interest because of Batman's involvement in the case, so she knows the answer to his question without having to check the files.
Unfortunately, answering him will mean being the bearer of bad news for the second time today.
"I'm sorry," she says gravely. "She died this morning. From complications due to severe blood loss." Barbara's delivered the message scores of times, maybe hundreds, but it always breaks her heart.
Batman lowers his eyes, rests his hands on the surface of her desk, and Barbara remembers, with a painful feeling, that the person wearing the suit is only eighteen years old, and for all intents and purposes, still a rookie. After a moment, he looks up at her again. "Thank you," he says, his voice slightly hoarse.
There is a long, awkward pause. "Do you want me to say something to her family?" she asks gently.
He pulls his hands back from the desk. "I don't know," he says. Then, "Tell them…I'm sorry that I couldn't save her."
Barbara nods. She'll have to elaborate on that when she actually talks to the Wootens, but she knew that she'd have to when she asked the question. After all, she was doing it more for his benefit than for anything else. "I'll tell them." She doesn't know how she should continue. If he weren't wearing the suit, she would get up and walk to the other side of the desk, maybe put a comforting hand on his shoulder since they know each other well enough for that to be appropriate, but she can't even imagine making such a gesture of sympathy for Batman. It's just not…well, it's not.
"It wasn't your fault," she says softly. He's probably heard it from Bruce already, but she knows from personal experience that it has to be said more than once. It has to be repeated as many times as it takes. "You did everything you could."
"It wasn't enough."
For a couple of seconds, Barbara isn't sure how she should reply. "Sometimes it isn't." She stands up. "But that's how it is for us. That's the one of the risks we take."
Slowly, he walks over to one of the windows at the end of the wall behind her desk and looks out over the city. Barbara has some vague idea of what he might be thinking, but it's not something she can put into words.
Suddenly he turns to her. "I should go. He's expecting me to be back soon." They have a sort of tacit agreement not to say Bruce Wayne's name here, or at least not in that context. It wouldn't be too much of a problem if the police commissioner were seen talking to Batman, since her father had a working relationship with the original, but there were certain things that it was not safe to discuss in the office, since anyone might walk in.
Barbara does not take offense at this rather ungraceful end to the conversation. She understands his state of mind, and that he is used to making a discreet exit when nobody's watching, something that she has just asked him not to do. So she just nods, goes to the window, and enters the security code to open the window lock. She pulls a lever and the pane slides open. The heat and city noise from outside hit her and jar her senses a little bit. She steps back to let Batman pass.
He steps up to the window, looks her in the eyes for a moment – she can't see his eyes behind the mask, but something about the look still unnerves her – then he nods a farewell, presses a button on his belt and fades from sight. There is a momentary breeze as he passes by and exits through the window. Barbara slides it closed again.
She stares through the glass for a minute, imagining that she can see Batman moving away, gliding from building to building or perhaps leaping from scaffold to causeway to rooftop and so on. But she can't really see him, so her imaginings are nothing more than that. With a sigh, she turns away from the window and goes back to her desk.