I'm baaaaaaaaaaaacccckkk! Yes, I know that Adamantium isn't a real metal, but Gotham isn't a real city, so I'll take a few liberties. I will dedicate the next chapter to anyone who knows who the villian is going to be, and who he was.

LoudMouthStar: Hmm, spanish. Good thing I speak it or I'd be insulted.
Random-Battlecry: Yes, I got your first review. I'm glad that you like Carm, she makes me laugh. Thank you for the feedback unlike some people Hint hint
Maid of the Mer: Glad as I am for your muffins, I must say I prefer strudels
cat: What an odd name. Are perhaps a furry mammal? I like the romance too ; )
Pirate Gyrl: You really think i have Bruce done right? Yay, I feel special! I though I had him all screwed up...
Savitri: Why weren't you logged in? Threats obviously work with you, continue please, FOR YOUR SAKE!

It might be a little helpful if I say that Alfred left Carm in the library intentionally, I hope he doesn't come off as a bumbling idiot...

Secrets

He couldn't stand her. She was Valintino's most prized geisha with the whole world on her platter if she wanted it, but he hated her nonetheless. She'd been all smiles until she realized he didn't trust her, and ever since she'd watched him closer than that friend of hers watched her latest job. Oh yes, he knew they were friends, as did Valintino. But Valintino's mistake was to think that Carmine had no sway over K.C. Stupid man was getting cushy and had done the unthinkable: he trusted. Not only did he trust him, he trusted her. The scheming little bitch, he could tell she wanted something that, something Valintino didn't want to give. She'd get it, but he'd make sure that her price was too high to pay. Oh yes, then he'd be sitting pretty, not that old Italian immigrant who'd had power handed to him without climbing any ladders, not like him.

"Jack, would you like to join us?" K.C. asked only grudgingly, and it was only grudgingly that Jack agreed.

"I'd love to. Where are we going?"

"The Narrows." Jack grimaced and made sure his gun was where it belonged.

"I'm glad I didn't like this shirt to begin with." Carm had been slightly over zealous with the paint roller.

"Just consider us even, Picasso." It had been vengeance for Bruce dumping a bucket of paint over her shoulders – and head.

"I don't know, I think maroon suits you."

Carm smacked him. "Knock it off or I'll leave you on the side of the road." It was late in the day and Carm was driving her new Mustang.

Carm's cell phone began ringing, and before she could answer it Bruce picked it up. "Carm's phone."

"Who the hell are you?" Carm could hear a thick Italian voice crackling at the other end.

"Bruce Wayne. Who are you?"

"Give me that," Carm snatched the phone away. "Sorry, honey. I'm giving a lift to some nut who claims he's Bruce Wayne."

It wasn't Valintino on the other end, but his brother and body guard. "Well beat it outta him. I wanna know if we're still on for tonight, baby." Bruce visibly paled as he listened to the conversation.

Carm grimaced, appearing to have forgotten Bruce. "Oh, you push to hard, darling," she fawned, "but if you insist I suppose I could clear my schedule. Your house or mine?"

"Mine, I insist. See you, sweet cheeks." There was a click and Carm pulled over to the side of the road.

She hopped out, trying in vain to keep from screaming. She hurled her cell phone with amazing dexterity and speed and trudged after it muttering, "I swear I'll kill that bastard next time he calls me that. I swear I will. I don't care how much he means to –"

"Means to who?" Bruce was behind her.

She sighed and picked up her battered phone. "My boss. He's the head lackey."

Bruce clenched and unclenched his fists. "Carm, we've been dating for a month and a half."

"I know."

"I still don't know what you do for a living, and by all appearances you have another lover."

Carm was silent.

"Carm?" Bruce waved his hand in front of her face. "I'm looking for an answer. I wasn't just talking to myself."

"I'm a mudslinger," she muttered.

Bruce's shoulders sagged. "And what, pray tell, is a mudslinger?"

"I get dirt on people."

Blank look from Bruce.

"The dish? The 411? Blackmail?"

Bruce started laughing. "Good one, you had me going for a second." Carm just sated at him. "You're not kidding, are you?"

"No, Bruce I'm dead serious." Carm, not for the first time, was feeling ashamed for what she did for a living.

"Well, then who's your boss?" Bruce suspected a mob boss.

"For a while I worked black-market-freelance, but then Valintino-"

"WHAT! YOU WORK FOR VALINTINO!"

Carm wiped her face off. "Not happily, mind you, but he pays well and he looks out for those irreplaceable people like me."

"Carm, you're working for a criminal!"

"Bruce, I am a criminal!" That was most certainly the wrong thing to say.

He was quiet, looking lost and hurt. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Bruce hung his head and told himself that nothing was perfect, even angels.

"Gee, I wonder. You were shouting your lungs out!"

Bruce was silent, trying not to say some very nasty things.

Carm waited a moment and headed back to the car, eventually followed by Bruce. The rode in silence for awhile before Bruce really put two and two together.

"Wait, if you're irreplaceable then you must know Valintino personally."

"The want to keep my face where it is keeps me from answering that so close to the city."

Bruce heard the hidden confirmation. "Then you could get dirt on him, take it to the DA and Valintino would be out of our hair!"

Carm sadly shook her head. "It's not that easy. Valintino has almost every judge on his payroll, and a lot of them are much more afraid of him then they are me, or anyone else, including Dragon and Batman. The DA is kept under close watch and Valintino has more than a couple moles in every law office, courthouse, and gang within twenty miles of Gotham." Bruce sighed, hopeless once more. Carm didn't like that, and liked even less that it was her fault. "Don't worry, I know a couple of people who are keeping close tabs on him, waiting for him to get too comfy and slip up."

Bruce grinned. "Are you one of those people."

"I can't say; I know better than anybody not to say out loud what you don't want others to find out."

Carm had once again shocked him, and even though she wasn't as spotless as once thought, she still remained his tarnished angel. The ring box in his pocket tugged on his mind, itching to find its way onto a certain finger. Funny, it took him all of two seconds to decide to leave Gotham for seven years, but he'd agonized whether to buy a ring for days, and then agonized even more over which ring to buy, and now he was agonizing over when to give it to her. Strange, how that work so oddly.

"So what are we doing here, again?" And why is Valintino here? Jack was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

K.C. wasn't enjoying herself anymore. "Pick-up."

"Pick-up? Of what? Something important –"Jack stopped, not wanting his mouth to go faster than his brain.

"Because I'm here?" Valintino laughed. "Yes, Jack, something very important. Should I tell you?"

Jack was mentally jumping up and down he wanted the answer so bad. Instead he just shrugged and grinned in the way that K.C. knew meant he was thinking of something very nasty. It was the creepiest smile ever, his eyes gleaming evilly and his lips spreading from ear to ear. It reminded her of Jack Nicholson. "I'd love to know."

Valintino grinned as well, but his seemed almost frightened. "Ever heard of Carmine Falcone?"

Carm jumped back into the car, freshly washed and no longer paint-smattered, and quickly made her way to Wayne manor. Tonight was her birthday, and even though K.C. would be planning some sort of extravagant bash as she rounded yet another birthday cake, Bruce wanted to throw her his own party. Well, not really a party, just a nice dinner, a present, and who knew what else Bruce had in mind.

Suddenly Carm remembered her meeting. She quickly phoned Bruce, who was busy according to Alfred but promised to tell him she'd be late, and then told Valintino's Gardener, that they were meeting now or she'd not take the job. She agreed, being new and thinking that her threat actually held some sway –and remembering Carm's violent nature.

She rushed in, not pausing to get checked, and ran into the room where the Gardener was waiting for her. Panting from her sprint, she sat down in the metal chair.

"Excited?"

"No." Carm's tone said that you'd better not press the matter. "Who is it now?"

"Bruce Wayne." Carm almost fell off the chair.

"W-what do you need?" Please, nothing bad, she prayed, but if Valintino wanted to know about Bruce there was no good news in store.

"Blackmail enough to get Wayne enterprises under control. We need supplies."

Carm stood before she burst into tears. Bruce? Why Bruce? She liked him, he was a good boyfriend. He was loyal, maybe not so innocent, playful, calm, and caring. If she though too much about him she got giddy, and she'd even dreamt about him. She could have said she even loved him, but that meant commitment, and commitment was something that she couldn't afford.

As she pulled up the Wayne Manor she tried to look composed, spending several minutes holding back screams. She didn't cry though, crying was for heartbreak and utter despair. After all, she could feed Valintino false information, but that would only last so long. When he realized that the dirt was fake, she'd loose her job – and most likely her life. She'd just explain to Bruce, and after he was done ranting, Carm was sure that he could find a solution – she hoped.

"Miss Lordly, welcome. Master Wayne had to run an errand, he'll be back momentarily."

Carm instinctively slipped off her sneakers, despite Alfred's many explanations that it wasn't necessary. "Alright. Do you want me to help with the cooking?"

"No thank you, it's all finished, but as usual you are welcome to any room in the house." Carm sighed. She liked Alfred a lot, but he was always so painfully aware of his butler position.

So she chose the library where the piano was. She loved to play, but never got the chance. She liked to sing along too, but that she never told anyone. Her fingers began to pick out a familiar melody, a song she'd labeled as her own theme. She began to hum, and then, forgetting Alfred several rooms away, began to sing, words coming as unbidden as the memories

Her first day back in Gotham after a trek over Asia was no fun. Her new address had been hell to find, and when she finally did find it, she found the elevator was out of commission. Trekking upstairs (fourteen levels) with the heavy old fashion suitcase tucked under her arm she collapsed in front of the door. Normally she wouldn't have been so winded but she was currently battling influenza, the aftermath of the hypothermia she'd gotten in a Tibetan river.

A frazzled head popped out of the doorframe having heard Carm's wheezing. "Gasp! You're not supposed to be here until tomorrow!"

Carm just glared at K.C., here first acknowledgement of her best friend in a decade.

"Well, your room's a bit messy… but nothing we can't clean out," which most certainly meant Carm would be cleaning out her own room.

It was a mess. Apparently K.C. had been using it for storage. At least she'd made a dent in the cleaning that need to be done, though. You could see the bed and most of the dresser was cleaned out. Sighing, Carm unpacked, silently laughing as K.C. screeched in horror at all that had been stuffed in the suitcase. Not one set of extra clothes, instead Carm had brought home a Kevlar suit, a wide variety of what looked like scales, several small bottles of a home-made propane-like substance, an old book written in Korean, a set of adamantium tipped gloves as well as boots, and a battered, much patched pair of socks.

K.C. whispered in awe, "You weren't kidding."

Carm just shook her head on motioned for a little bit of privacy, sending her best friend scurrying out to buy the high quality face paints she was supposed to have bought.

Alfred paused while setting the table, noting what a lovely voice Miss Lordly had. Of course, he probably should get her out of the library before Master Wayne came back, but after all, if Master Wayne was going to propose, she'd have to find out about the alter-ego bit eventually.

Still playing the piano, Carm remembered another first day in Gotham. She'd been ten, not fourteen like she'd told Bruce, and incredibly frightened. She remembered sitting on her bed with tears rolling down her face. Suddenly her father had come bursting into the room, crying as well. He sat down on the bed and clutched his daughter, his only heir, close, sobbing uncontrollably. It was extremely demoralizing, watching her father cry like she wanted to.

"Daddy, are you okay?" Her father detached himself and buried his head in his hands, his only response to point toward the master bedroom.

Shaking, Carm moved toward the room, feeling incredibly surreal, like she was watching somebody else scream at the site of her mother's limp body, gun still clutched in the dead hand.

Carm didn't cry in the library, just like she hadn't cried at the funeral. She'd never like her mother, cold, cruel and unloving. She preferred her new stepmother only a year later, the loving understanding lady she'd instantly christened Mom and kept the name to that day. Still, it had been unnerving to see her father collapse like a frightened child, and since she'd never respected him.

Carm stopped, her song finished and sat for a silent moment listening to Alfred setting dinner out and another loud buzz that faded almost as soon as it had started. Discrediting it for the heater or something, Carm noticed that Bruce's paint spattered coat was flung over the couch with a suspicious square bulge in the pocket. Carm knew it wasn't her business, but all the same she stood up, tripping and catching herself on the piano. Her fingers splayed out, striking on odd series of notes. Carm only thought it was an odd when it was accompanied with the sound of a hidden door sliding open behind her.

Staring at the gaping hole that had once been a bookshelf, Carm absolutely knew she should not go down that hole. Nevertheless she wrapped her hands in Bruce's ruined coat and slid down on the chain that was supporting something.

That something proved to be an antique elevator. Carm would have been extremely interested in the elevator if she hadn't walked in on Bruce. Or it might have been Batman who had then stolen Bruce's head, sown it on for his own, and then sent his army of flying monkeys to get Dorothy's shoes back.

Now, put yourself in Carm's position. Would you be elated? Who you rush forward and kiss him, proclaiming your undying love for each other? Well, if you'd really put yourself in Carm's position you'd know she hates Batman. So what would you do? You'd pick up the nearest throw-able object and try to knock his block off.

Bruce ducked, extremely surprised, surprised enough that he allowed Carm to land an impressive right hook in his jaw. Catching her leg, which was heading for a very uncomfortable spot, he spun her around and pinned her to the wall. "Hello, darling. May I ask what the punch was for?"

Heartbroken and embarrassed of the tears, Carm could only gasp, rather than yell, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Shocked by the tears, Bruce let her go and pulled off a gauntlet so he could wipe her face. He was hurt that she only pushed his hand away, staring in horror at the mask he'd left on a table. "I was going to, I promise. I was just afraid you'd act like you did."

Carm slumped against the wall and buried her head in her hands. "K.C. was right, I never should have let it get this far. And Valintino…"

"What about Valintino?" Suddenly worried, Bruce pried her hands away from her face, forcing him to look in his eyes. "What about him?"

Carm slammed Bruce in the forehead with her own, dove into the elevator, and ran out of Wayne Manor, crying almost hard enough to keep her from speeding home.

So, are you sad as I am? Who will be the villian? Will Carm forgive Bruce? Tune in next time I post!