Melanie walks out of Les Trois Pommes and one of the dullest experiences of her life. She holds the door open so that Natalie, accompanied by Lucius Fox II and his own personal assistant, can step through. Natalie has spent the past three hours discussing the details of a proposed contract between VibranTech and Foxteca. The business dinner turned out to be a big success for both parties – although it was a big heap of boring for Melanie, and probably for Mr. Fox's secretary as well. Or maybe it wasn't that boring for him, because he kept ogling Melanie when he thought she wasn't looking.
Natalie passes her a claim ticket for the car. Fox follows suit with his secretary. They both give their tickets to the fancily uniformed man at the valet desk, who sends a similarly uniformed teenager to retrieve their vehicles. The two company presidents continue to chatter while Melanie looks up at the skyscrapers and shivers with the chill. It's an unusually cold night for this time of year, and her pale blue evening dress doesn't provide much protection against the elements.
After a short eternity Mr. Fox's Acura LX materializes at the curb. The young valet gets out and Fox's pudgy, bespectacled assistant gives him a tip. With a few muttered words the valet thanks him and goes off to get Natalie's car. He opens the rear door for his boss, who says goodbye to Natalie before folding his lanky body into the backseat. His assistant closes the door, nods farewell, and gets into the driver's seat.
Natalie watches as the car leaves the parking lot, threads through a series of causeway roads and walks as it ascends into the air and picks up speed before flying off. "That went well," she says pleasantly. She looks at Melanie. "You look like you're dying of boredom."
She knows she can't get away with anything but the truth, so she just rolls her eyes as if to say, "was it that obvious?"
"You'd better learn to get used to it," Natalie says with a smile. "It won't be the last time. I hope the food was some compensation."
"The lobster was good," Melanie says. "But the snails?…" She shakes her head.
"You don't know what you're missing. They're delicious."
"I'll take your word for it." Melanie wonders if this would be a good time to bring up her request to move to New York. She's decided to ask, in spite of Tama's advice to the contrary. It's just that she hasn't worked up the courage to do it yet.
A police siren wails in the distance and quickly increases in volume and pitch as it comes closer. Both Melanie and Natalie look turn to look at the street as a GCPD car speeds by. For two seconds its blaring siren is almost unbearably loud – then, as it heads into the distance, the noise dwindles away until it is swallowed up by the white-noise background of Gotham at night. Melanie has always been sort of scared of police sirens, although her fear is not so great now that she's out of what her parents called 'the game.'
"I wonder what's taking him so long," Natalie grumbles to herself.
"You mean the valet?" Melanie shrugs. "Maybe he's having trouble finding the car or something."
Before they can get too agitated, though, Natalie's red Lexus turns the corner out of the parking lot and pulls up to the curb. The valet gets out and puts the keys in Melanie's outstretched hand. She notices that he looks a little frazzled. "Sorry," he says. "Took me a while to find the car."
"That's okay," Melanie says. She reaches into her purse and tips him a few credits. The young valet smiles at her – a rather nervous smile - thanks her and goes to serve a couple just emerging from the restaurant. Melanie opens the front passenger door for Natalie, who pulls her embroidered silk jacket close so she won't get it caught in the door when she closes it. Once she's settled, Melanie gets in the driver's seat and they both buckle their seatbelts. She engages the antigrav and the car rises into the air. Once the indicator on the dashboard says she's at the proper height, she stops the ascent and starts heading for home. She looks at the 'ghost buoys' displayed in the windshield, holographic projections that mark the legal route for hovercars. There are green ones lining the sides of the route and red ones along the top and bottom, creating a sort of diamond-shaped tunnel for her to fly through.
"So, Melanie," Natalie begins, "I think you'll be ready for your suit in a couple of weeks."
Melanie bites her lower lip as she thinks about the implications of this. It means that she will soon be taking Tama's place here, which is exactly what she doesn't want. She decides that she had better tell Natalie about her decision now, because otherwise it will be too late. She takes a breath and prepares to drop the proverbial bombshell.
Then something weird happens. A light on the dashboard turns on, a little yellow square that reads 'CHECK GUIDANCE SYSTEM.' Melanie frowns at it – the car was tuned a month ago, so it should be fine. It's probably just a glitch. She gets ready to take a right at the intersection ahead, and activates the turn signal. Nothing happens.
"What's going on?" Natalie asks, sounding slightly alarmed. Melanie tries to slow down and turn right, but the controls don't respond. It keeps going straight, and they pass the turn.
"I don't know," Melanie answers as she jerks the wheel and pushes the pedals. The car, it seems, has developed a mind of its own. She hits the emergency button, which should bring it into a slow descent to the nearest safe landing spot. Nothing. She hits it again. Still nothing. She starts pounding on the button as real panic begins to set in.
There is a hissing noise as a jet of white vapor starts shooting out from under the dashboard. The air begins to thicken and take on a strange, chemical smell.
"Sabotage!" Natalie concludes as she puts her left arm over her nose and mouth and tries to open her door with the other hand. It won't budge – like everything else in the car, it is now out of their control.
Melanie tries her door, then undoes her seatbelt and leans into the rear passenger seats to try the rear doors. The endeavor is more difficult than it should be. Her head starts spinning and her vision begins to go dark around the edges. She pulls herself back into her seat and covers her mouth, but it doesn't even serve to delay the effects of the gas.
For a moment her senses are severely distorted; then they shut down entirely.