Hello all! Hope everything has been going well. I really wanted to get this delivered in a timely manner, and thankfully this time I did. I'm really excited for the upcoming chapters, because we'll get into Cold, Cold Heart and then after that, I really get to take the reins on where things go. As always, please review, since I love hearing what you guys have to say, and I'll see you all in chapter eight!
"Anderson, you all right?"
Laura's head shot up from where she'd been staring at the wood grain of her desk, McKenzie's voice snapping her out of her reverie. The detective in question was frowning at her, his concern at her odd behavior written all over his face. Laura could hardly blame him; she usually made a point to be as consistent and professional as possible, not giving anyone an opportunity to call her abilities into question as an excuse to get rid of her, but for the last two days, she'd been spacy as hell. The sergeant forced a small smile onto her face and waved the blonde detective off, attempting to assuage his worries.
"I'm fine. I've just got a lot on my mind right now, and I've been a little distracted. What's up?"
"Gordon wants to see you." He said, jerking his thumb back towards the direction of the captain's office. "You might want to hurry, he said it was important."
"Thanks, Ben."
McKenzie nodded, though she could tell he didn't quite believe her, and exited her office. As soon as the door closed behind him, Laura let out a sigh and buried her head in her hands.
It'd been two days since she'd rediscovered that damnable flashdrive and discovered Bruce Wayne was Batman, and her life had been a mess ever since. Once she'd realized exactly what she was in possession of, she'd smashed the little thing to bits, put it in a frying pan, doused it with nail polish remover, and set it on fire. If anyone found out she had the drive or knew what was on it, Laura would be in more trouble than she could handle. The secret of who was really under that cowl was more valuable than gold, and the likes of the Joker, Penguin, and Black Mask would kill her for it without hesitation. She couldn't hand it over to Gordon either, as she knew the acting commissioner would be honor-bound to use that information to arrest Wayne, as no matter how quickly the captain was coming around to the idea of working with the vigilante, the Batman was still technically a wanted criminal. The rest of the GCPD couldn't be trusted either, as most were still more loyal to Cobblepot, Sionis, or Rupert Thorne's cash than the law. And Wayne may not have any family left in this world, but the man had friends, colleagues, employees… hundreds of people that could be put in danger if anyone knew he was Batman.
Not to mention what he'd do to me if he found out I knew, her mind supplied darkly. That was the part that scared Laura the most, if she was going to be honest with herself. While Wayne had proved himself a capable combatant and a valuable ally in the never-ending battle to rid Gotham of crime, the man was otherwise a complete unknown. Laura was sure the irresponsible, fun-seeking playboy persona she'd originally taken at face-value was a farce to throw off any suspicions as to whom the Batman really was, and she had no idea as to the character of the man behind the mask. While his actions and dedication to helping the city was surely admirable, any man who dressed up in a high-tech bat costume to beat up hardened criminals with his bare hands was at least a little fucked up in the head, and she had no idea how far he'd go to keep his secret safe. Bane had known who he was, she knew, and they'd found him beaten, bloody, hanging upside down like a chicken on a rack, and with brains more scrambled than the eggs she'd had for breakfast. If he could do that to someone like Bane, Laura was reluctant to even think about what he could do to her.
With some reluctance, Laura dragged herself away from her desk and into Gordon's office, where the captain in question was leaning over his desk, angrily squinting at the contents of some report.
"McKenzie said you wanted to see me, Jim?"
The man looked up from his desk, slightly startled at her sudden appearance, evidently so engrossed in his work, he'd missed her entrance. "Oh, Laura. Didn't hear you come in. What do you know about Ferris Boyle?"
Laura frowned. "He's some corporate big-wig, right? CEO of some company or another?"
"GothCorp." Gordon nodded. "And he's receiving this year's Humanitarian of the Year award."
"Good for him." Laura said warily, still not sure where the captain was going with this train of thought. "Is he under investigation or something? Guys like that usually go for more white-collar stuff than my department."
"No, nothing like that." The redhead sighed. "Some charity foundation is holding a party for him on New Year's Eve, and a representative of the police department is expected to attend. When the invitation was issued, Loeb was still in charge, but now…"
"Now that you're Acting Commissioner, you're the one expected to go." Laura finished.
"Exactly," The captain sighed, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, "But after Christmas Eve, I've got so much to do, I can't waste time standing around at some party making small-talk with trust-fund babies and rich old widows."
"And you want me to go instead?" The sergeant guessed.
Gordon looked at her from over the rim of his glasses, almost as if he was reluctant to even ask. "Would you mind?"
Laura thoughtfully tapped her chin as if contemplating the request, and the captain rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "Well, if I really have to…I guess I could cut you some slack. This time."
"Your generosity is inspiring." The redhead mumbled, shaking his head at her, though he couldn't keep himself from smiling. "The party's starts at ten o'clock, but you might want to head out a little early. Wayne Manor's a bit of a drive."
"Hold on, the party's at Wayne Manor?" Laura said, nearly chocking on her own words.
"Of course it is," Gordon frowned at her, raising an eyebrow at her odd reaction. "Didn't I mention that before? Bruce Wayne is the one throwing the damn thing."
-VII-
"Lys, what do you wear to a high-class party?"
Laura stood in the bedroom of her apartment, dejectedly staring at the contents of her closet. She'd gone through the occupants of each and every hanger twice, but nothing she found was appropriate for the less-appealing-by-the-second party for Ferris Boyle. She had plenty of jeans and dress shirts and slacks, but when it came to non-work appropriate attire, her wardrobe seemed to be coming up short. So, when the brunette had found herself at a loss and desperately hoping to avoid a long and drawn-out trip to the mall, she'd fallen back on the motto she'd followed since elementary school; when in doubt, call Alyssa.
"Depends, how high-class are we talking?"
Alyssa Valentine had been Laura's best friend since the former had moved into the townhouse adjacent to that of the Andersons' when the girls were in third grade, and the two had been practically inseparable ever since. The girls had grown up together, gone to school together, and even both chose to uphold the law as the focus of their careers; Laura as an officer in the GCPD and Alyssa as a prosecutor in the Gotham City District Attorney's office, which, following Alyssa's recent appointment to Assistant District Attorney, kept the two women in frequent contact, even in the professional world.
"Award-Ceremony-Hosted-By-Bruce-Wayne kind of high-class." Laura sighed.
"How in the hell did you manage to get yourself roped into that?" Alyssa laughed.
"Long story," The detective grumbled into her cell's microphone, glaring at her closet. "But seriously, what the hell am I supposed to wear? I don't even know what to look for; I haven't worn a dress since our high school graduation."
There was a pause on the other end of the line before the lawyer answered. "What about that dress you were supposed to wear to your cousin's wedding? The green one?"
"You mean the one you made me drop $200 on?" The brunette grumbled as she searched the shelf above the closet's hanger rack for the box containing the dress, knowing she'd shoved it somewhere up there and forgotten all about it upon getting wind of said wedding's cancelation.
"Don't complain," Alyssa admonished from the other end. "At least you don't have to shopping now, right?"
"Fair point," Laura sighed, pulling the white box down from the shelf and draping its contents across her bed, eyeing the garment critically.
The gown itself was not overly-fancy, a simple floor-length infinity dress with its two bands long-ago twisted into a halter style, the excess fabric wrapped around the waist into the shape of an 'X'. The material was a stunningly soft velvet that was surprisingly comfortable to wear, dyed a rich bottle-green that the brunette conceded had actually looked quite good on her. There was nothing wrong with it that Laura could pick out as unlikable, she was forced to admit, which had been part of the reason Alyssa had been able to convince her to buy it in the first place. That, and the fact that by the time Alyssa had pointed out that particular dress, the two been shopping for the better part of four hours and Laura would have agreed with anything at that point in order to go home.
"So, does that invitation come with a plus-one?"
Laura let out a huff of laughter, grabbing a hanger out of the closet and hanging the dress on the back of her bedroom door.
"This again?"
"Yes, 'This again'," The lawyer said, only partially kidding. "Seriously Laur, when was the last time you went out on a real date?"
The sergeant sighed, thinking back. "Must have been when I was dating Paul."
"And that was what, four years ago?"
"Two," Laura corrected, already regretting letting the conversation get this far.
"Fine, two. That's still a while. You need to get out there again, go have some fun!"
"I need to 'go have some fun'?" Laura monotoned. "Last time I checked, you were the one who got into a fight with Meredith Stannard about, and I quote, 'being perfectly happy single, and not needing a man to make me feel fulfilled in life'. Or were you just saying that because she got nasty about you not having a prom date?"
"It had nothing to do with my lack of a prom date." The other woman huffed. There was a long pause on the other end, and the brunette wondered for a moment if the line had disconnected. Just as she was about to lift the phone away from her ear to check, the sergeant heard her friend let out a long sigh.
"Do you remember those books you used to read as a kid? The one about the princess who runs away to be a servant for a dragon?"
"Yeah, The Enchanted Forest Chronicles. Pretty sure I've still got them around the house somewhere. Why?"
"Do you remember what you said when I asked why the princess agreed to marry the king? Why she'd get married when she ran away to avoid marriage in the first place, and was happy with her life with the dragon?"
"Because she loved him and he made her happy," Laura conceded. "That just because she enjoyed her life as it was, it didn't mean she couldn't be just as happy, if not happier, with him as a part of it."
"My point exactly. Laura, tell me honestly; Are you really happy with your life as it is? It couldn't get any better?"
"I'm…content." The sergeant admitted, realizing her friend had a point.
"That's what I'm talking about, right there." The lawyer explained. "Laur, you're my best friend, a great cop, and not to kiss your ass, but you're one of the best people I've ever known. You deserve a hell of a lot more out of life than 'content'."
Laura let out a defeated sigh, sitting herself down on the edge of her bed and shaking her head. "You know, I suddenly feel really bad for every sucker that lands himself in a cross-examination with you."
"Still won't help them." Alyssa laughed before turning serious once more. "Listen, I'm not asking you to sign up for speed-dating and throw yourself at every hot guy you see, but if someone does come along and you think things might have a chance, promise me you'll keep an open mind?"
"Fine," Laura grumbled. "I promise. Happy now?"
"I'll be happy when I'm helping you pick out baby clothes, but this will do for now."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
-VII-
"How's it coming, McTaggart?"
Kieran looked up from the crate of weapons he'd been elbow-deep in, huffing in annoyance at the interruption when he was very clearly busy. Once he'd turned around and gotten a look at the man who'd spoken, though, the Irishman couldn't keep a scowl off his face.
Jack Hanes was a no-good, cowardly, lying bastard, if Kieran was going to give his honest opinion. Before Christmas Eve, the guy had worked for Black Mask, but jumped ship the second Sionis got hauled off to prison, and hadn't even waited to see if the charges were going to stick before finding himself a new boss, and even then complained about how Penguin's operation was run every chance he got. In the week he'd been in Cobblepot's employ, he'd managed to piss off three-quarters of the gang, been nearly shanked twice, and stuck his nose in places it had no business being more times than anyone could count. If it came down to it, Kieran would rather be stuck with his wimpy, goody-two-shoes brother-in-law watching his back rather than this prick, and that was saying something. At least Chuckie wasn't a squealer.
"It's comin', and that's all you need to know." Kieran said, shoving a submachine gun in the other man's hands.
Hanes looked down at the weapon, eyeing it critically with a sneer on his face. The Irishman briefly wondered if he could get away with shooting the ungrateful bastard when Mr. Cobblepot wasn't looking.
"This is what we're using? Christ, at least when I was with Black Mask, Sionis got us M16s. Penguin must be really fuckin' desperate if this is all we've got."
"Listen here you little shit…" Kieran started with a snarl.
"What?" Hanes interrupted, "You know it's true! Come on, McTaggart, get with the goddamn program. Cobblepot's done, and everyone knows it. Gotham's ripe for the taking, and the best he can pull out of his hat is some freak in a Halloween costume with a supped-up ice dispenser? And instead of hitting something that might actually get us paid, we're just breaking into some rich boy's mansion to off some corporate jackass! You know what? Fuck this, I'm done. And if you had even half a brain in that ginger head of yours McTaggart, you'd be too."
"Is that so?"
Kieran stiffened as the electronic voice rang out from behind him, drawing the room's attention to the figure the Irishman could hear crossing the room with even, booming footsteps. The redhead's head snapped around, quickly backpedaling out of the newcomer's path as the suited man made his way towards Hanes who could only stand rooted to the ground, frozen in terror. As Cobblepot's new ally came to a stop in front of the blonde man, staring down at him with little more than mild annoyance as he reached for his weapon and pointed it at him, Kieran almost, almost felt a small twinge of pity.
"C-come on man, please!" Hanes begged, sinking down to his knees and holding his arms outstretched as if trying to placate the looming figure before him. "I-I was just running my mouth, I didn't really mean it, I swear!"
"Save your pleading for someone foolish enough to believe it." The blue-hued man said as the air filled with the telltale high-pitched whine of his cold weapon powering up.
The man looked down at Hanes through the huge glass dome of his suit, frowning at him for a moment as if confused, but seemingly unfazed by the tears streaming down the blonde man's face as he brokenly pleaded for his life.
"The thought of killing a man should turn my stomach, but as I look at you now…I feel nothing."
Though it was hardly the first time Kieran had seen a man killed, he couldn't help but flinch when Hanes' frantic begging was cut short with a scream, and if the deafening silence that fell over the room was anything to go by, he wasn't the only one left feeling uneasy of Penguin's new ally.
"Make whatever preparations you must," The man's electronic voice rang out across the room as he made his way past the frozen corpse that was all that remained of Jack Hanes, the gathered crowd scurrying to get out of his way. "We leave for Wayne Manor within the hour."
"I have an appointment with Ferris Boyle, and I intend to keep it."
-VII-
The drive to Wayne Manor was longer than Laura remembered.
Granted, the last time she'd been to Wayne Manor, she'd been nine and had been far too busy listening to her mother chat about how exciting it was to be able to attend one of Martha Wayne's famous Halloween parties to notice how long the drive really was from the Anderson's townhouse in the East End to the Wayne's nineteenth-century manor nestled in the mountains twelve miles outside the city limits. The drive from Laura's current apartment in the Bowery was even longer, with traffic having to be redirected out of the city, through Bristol Township, and back in the other side to get between New and Old Gotham now that the Pioneers Bridge was out of commission for at least the next six months.
As Laura maneuvered her car through the traffic that spanned across the William Finger Memorial Bridge, she attempted to dispel the sinking feeling that grew worse and worse with each passing mile. The invitation the Wayne Foundation had issued to the GCPD hadn't mentioned anyone by name, and the RSVP had already been sent out when Loeb was still commissioner. No one at the Foundation knew she was coming, so far as she was aware, Bruce Wayne included. Still, Laura couldn't help but feel anxious at the possibility of coming face-to-face with the man, now that she knew the secret of how he spent his nights, and he still in the dark about her ill-acquired knowledge. She could only pray that if she did encounter the billionaire she didn't accidentally let anything incriminating slip, lest she find out to exactly what lengths Bruce Wayne was willing to go to keep his identity safe.
With that cheery thought ringing around in her head, Laura turned her car onto the exit at the base of the bridge, heading further into Bristol Township. As she steered her Chevy along the winding mountain roads and the scenery of mansion after mansion gave way to lonely stretches of land and thick copses of trees, the brunette began to think she'd entered the wrong address into her GPS. Ten minutes after she'd last passed by any trace of civilization, she finally came across a gate wide enough for three cars to pass through without difficulty set into a tall brick wall, a large 'W' standing proudly at the top of the ornate wrought-iron structure. As the gates swung open at her car's approach, Laura made her way down the mansion's long driveway, getting her first glimpse of Wayne Manor in nearly twenty years.
Though Laura recalled feeling awed by the nineteenth-century estate from when she was a child, her fuzzy memories did the property no justice. Even compared to the other impressive homes she'd passed on her way through Bristol Township, Wayne Manor was a sight to behold. The building itself was enormous, standing four stories tall and boasting three wings, not including the circular tower attached to the building's south side. A set of cream-colored marble steps led up to a pair of wide mahogany doors framed on three sides by an ornate pattern of frosted glass, flanked on either side by Corinthian pillars carved from the same stone. Opposite the doors stood a bronze statue set atop a tall slab of stone, cast in the likeness of some long-dead Wayne and overlooking the three acres of well-manicured lawn between itself and the tall brick wall bordering the property. The driveway, comprised of a light-colored gravel rather than concrete or asphalt, led from the gate to the front of the house between the steps and the statue, looping back around to the wide gate through which she had just passed. Off to the side of the house, the sergeant spotted what looked to have once been a large stable, now converted into a massive multi-car garage. As Laura stepped out of her car and handed her keys off to the awaiting valet, the thought crossed her mind that it seemed more like she was attending a party on the set of Downton Abbey rather than at a home only twelve miles from her small apartment.
Slipping the valet a ten as she walked past, Laura made her way up the steps and into the main hall of the manor. Before she could have a good look around, the brunette was ushered over to a small table where a handful of college-aged men in vests and bow ties were checking bags. Handing over the small purse she'd brought with her, Laura snorted in amusement when the young man's face paled once he spotted the small handgun she'd placed inside. Gingerly holding the bag out in front of him as if it were a bomb, the man asked her to wait in a shaky voice before retreating into the closed-off wing behind him, reappearing a few minutes later alongside a stern-looking man with graying hair and a thin mustache. The older man snatched the bag out of the boy's hands before saying something to him sharply that Laura couldn't quite make out before turning around to face the table of incoming guests. When the man's eyes landed on her, Laura saw a look of surprised recognition flash across his face before schooling his features once again into a neutral expression. The brunette frowned slightly at the odd reaction, positive she'd never seen the aging man before and unsure as to why he seemed to recognize her.
"I assume this is yours, miss?" The man asked, placing the bag down on the table between them and opening it slightly to sift through the contents.
"That it is," The sergeant responded. "My badge should be in there as well, if you'd like to check."
The man hummed in affirmation, pulling out the small wallet-like piece of leather and scanning the credentials hanging opposite the GCPD shield, one eyebrow raised. "And do you usually bring firearms to charity events, Sergeant Anderson?"
"I usually bring them everywhere," Laura laughed. "Regulation states that all GCPD officers are required to be armed at all times, both on and off duty. Failure to do so leads to disciplinary action, up to and including termination of employment, and frankly sir, I'd really like to keep my job."
The man stifled a chuckle and replaced her badge in her purse, handing the bag back to her and waving a hand in the direction of a large room off to the side in which it seemed the guests were gathering. "Very well, so long as it remains unseen, I don't believe we will have a problem. The ballroom is just over there, you may head on through."
"Thank you," Laura said, shooting the man a smile. "Have a good evening, Mr.….?"
"Pennyworth," The man replied, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a small smile. "And to you as well, Miss Anderson."
Turning her back on the security table, Laura made towards the wide doorway the aging man had indicated, maneuvering her way through the large groups of socialites milling in the main hall. Pushing past the throngs of Gotham's elite, the sergeant finally crossed the threshold into Wayne Manor's ballroom, a sudden feeling of apprehension pooling in her gut as she did so. Taking a drink off a passing waiter's tray, the brunette frowned at herself as she sipped the champagne, trying to shake off the unusual feeling of anxiety that came over her as she made to mingle with the rest of Wayne's guests.
After all, Laura reasoned with herself, this is just some charity event for a bunch of millionaires. What's the worst that can happen?
