Batman 1939: Swimming in the Styx

Chapter 15: Reluctance


The south lawn of stately Wayne Manor.

Bruce Wayne sat in the shade of a tree with his guests, Elias and Hazel Wellington. They had enjoyed a long conversation, for given values of 'they', 'enjoyed', and 'conversation'.

After yet another lull, Elias slapped his knees and stood. "Whelp, Bruce, this has been a real gas, but we better scoot."

His wife Hazel followed, but Bruce stayed in his seat and sulked. "What? Ah, come on, Elias. Let's at least finish off this pitcher."

Elias inhaled and straightened his belt with a satisfied grunt. "Sorry, Hazel here wants to get the guest house ready for the in-laws." He said this with tired contempt. Hazel glared at her husband, but Bruce cut in, "Better in-laws then outlaws, am I right?"

The Wellingtons laughed. Elias wiped away a tear and added, "But not by much!"

His wife instantly stopped laughing, but Elias continued for a time. "Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Ha! Bruce, my boy, aren't you going to walk us to the car?"

Bruce had endured convulsions of pain just to put on pants this morning and was not keen to stand. "I'd love to, Elias, but I need to stay and look for finches."

"What?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you both? I've taken up birdwatching."

Hazel looked at him with surprise and pity. "Birdwatching."

Bruce smiled. "Yes, it's mighty good fun. I've been working down a list of birds from our region, and the only one I've yet to find is the purple finch or Haemorhous purpureus." Bruce's Latin was terrible. "Our feathered friend lives here year-round, but it's easier to find in the summer. I have stay here and watch that treeline. I swear every time I turn around, the little dickens passes on by."

Elias shook a finger. "Hang on a plum minute. Were you looking for these birds the whole time we were here?"

Bruce looked bashful. "I might have kept an eye out. But it's not like that. I can do two things at once."

Hazel crossed her arms. "I thought you seemed a tad distant. Here I assumed you found us boring."

Bruce lifted his chin, offended. "The Wellingtons boring? Nonsense. You know you two are always welcome here."

Hazel looked down her nose at him. "Hm. Well, I just don't about that. Never thought I'd have reason to call Bruce Wayne rude. Birdwatching while guests are over? Who does that?"

Fortunately, Elias disagreed with his wife on principle, the principle being that it was her. "Shucks, Hazel, that's our host you're speaking to. Let Bruce have his fun. A man needs a way to let off steam, after all. You don't mind when I talk to you while I'm working on my model trains."

"Yes I do! I think your little trains are childish and silly."

"Childish? I'd like to meet the child who could build the only working O-scale replica of the Fawcett City express line."

"And used half our basement."

"Woman, I used the whole basement. Elias Kentworth Ducksbury Wellington does not cut corners."

This line of debate was interrupted when Alfred appeared, cruising across the lawn in a golf cart. He stopped in front of them and stepped out to offer a short bow. "Sir and Madam, your driver is ready for you." The Wellingtons squeezed onto the golf cart's rear bench seat and each waved Bruce a bland farewell.

"Be seeing you, Wayne."

"Yes, do take care, dear. Have fun with your birds."

Bruce gave a friendly wave. "Come back soon you two!"

Alfred returned to the driver's seat, and they were off. As they puttered away, Bruce overheard Hazel say, "I thought birdwatchers needed binoculars."

Elias responded, "Youngsters have all that good eyesight."

"And his voice is so scratchy today."

"My guess? He's sneaking cigarettes. His old man hated them, see, and I bet the boy doesn't want to go against pop's memory in public."

"Ah, how sad."

"Yep."

As the cart disappeared around the corner of the Manor, Bruce dropped his arm and rubbed his wrist, the joint protesting with quiet clicks. Bruce struggled to his feet. There was a flowerbed near the lawn chair, and he brushed some dirt aside with his shoe, uncovering a pair of crutches. Once supported, he hobbled up the grass to the Manor's nearest door.

There were advantages to being known as a dandy. After Bruce reached the Cave, he took off his hat, untied the gold cravat from his neck, and ripped off his white gloves. The inside of the cravat was smeared with peach-colored makeup, and the gloves almost tore over the swelling of his injured fingers. Bruce dropped the cravat and gloves on a table, then he refastened his neck brace and wrapped his finger splint back on.

Alfred descended down the steps of the Cave a minute later. He found Bruce's discarded accessories and a shopping list. As he read, Bruce limped by carrying a heavy welding helmet and a five-pound bag of aluminum powder.

"Alfred."

"Bruce, what are you doing with that?"

"Making thermite."

"And what is thermite?"

"A welding substance."

"How innocuous. What do you intend to weld?"

"Not what. Who." Bruce reached his laboratory bench and cut open the bag. "Only as a precaution, I promise."

Alfred looked back at the list. "It says here you want sixty more of those bags."

"Can't be too careful."

"Quite. Well, I'm off to retrieve the belongings you dropped yesterday." He glanced at the discarded clothes. "I certainly have enough practice."

Bruce didn't look up from his work. "Good. Thank you. I wrote directions on the third page."

Alfred returned to the stairs and left him alone. "I live to serve, Master Bruce."


The United States Capitol Building.

A long green town car pulled to the curb. Captain Steven Trevor, an officer and a gentleman, opened the door for Amanda Waller and Diana Prince to enter the vehicle. Steve followed after them, sitting across from the ladies on a rear-facing seat.

Diana was nervous. "May we speak of it now?"

Waller nodded. "The driver's safe."

Diana pressed her palms into her knees and exhaled. "How was my appeal received?"

Waller answered. "Well enough. Mr. Hucklebone will inform me of any obstacles in the Senate. The real challenge will be roping in the White House."

"Shall we now join the special friends you described during our phone call?"

"Change of plans, actually. Captain Trevor, these are for you." Amanda handed the surprised Captain a folded paper with War Department stamps. "Effective immediately, your leave is over, and the Army has stationed you in my unit until further notice."

Steve's eyebrows shot up as he read the paper. "Your unit?"

"A team of national security troubleshooters - mostly military, some civilian."

"And what do they do?"

"They find trouble, and then they shoot it. I doubt you'll find the protocol unfamiliar, knowing your record."

Steve looked up surprised. "You know my record?" Amanda looked back with mild disdain. Steve scratched his neck. "Right. Never mind."

Diana interrupted. "What are these changed plans?"

Amanda answered, "I have an urgent mission for Captain Trevor here."

"You must leave now?"

"That's right. We can't delay another minute. But…" Amanda paused as if to consider something. "You may accompany him if you wish."

Diana smiled, but then her forehead knitted in concern. "Alas, I am needed to-"

"I'm sure we can arrange a longer break from your clinical duties, nurse." Amanda said, then muttered to herself, "Lord knows how you got that job in the first place."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. If you're not interested, we'll need to drop you off so I can give Captain Trevor his secret mission to save America."

"Well then I would accompany him!" Diana beamed at Steve, who smiled back uncomfortably. "What is this mission?"

"I have a lead on Der Wehrwolf."

Steve looked dumbfounded. Diana looked mildly interested. "Who is Der Wehrwolf?"

"A codename for the most dangerous Nazi spy in the Western Hemisphere." Amanda fixed her new agents with a cold stare to impart how serious a statement she made.

Diana cocked her head and asked, "Out of how many?"

"What?"

Steve covered his face in his hand. "Diana-"

But Diana persisted. "It is a question of relative and absolute standards. If this spy is most dangerous relative to all spies, but there are not many spies, then perhaps he or she should not be regarded as a great threat, viewed objectively. Yet if there are very many spies that embody escalating echelons of danger, then the most dangerous would be very dangerous indeed, especially if their threat hierarchy scales exponentially."

Amanda studied Diana with pursed lips. "We don't know how many spies our enemies have. But I promise Der Wehrwolf is quite objectively dangerous, if that satisfies you."

Diana nodded politely. "I defer to your insight."

"Wonderful. Now, we have a source that claims Der Wehrwolf is Carlos Salazar, a Spanish diplomat to Argentina. We think the claim is credible. Carlos was educated in Germany, and both Spain and Argentina have strong pro-German elements that might have introduced him to one of the German intelligence services."

Diana interrupted. "But I have heard Spain is neutral."

Amanda smiled. "And so is Argentina. And so are we. And yet here we are in each other's business. It wouldn't be the first suggestion that the Argentines are harboring Nazis. If Carlos is using his diplomatic cover to spy, he could run operations across the Americas , and we'd have a devil of a time tracing it back to him.

Steve asked, "What do you need from us?"

"Mr. Salazar will be at a party outside Buenos Aires three nights from now. We've intercepted two invitations and arranged covers for each of you to attend the party. Get there. Study the man, study his entourage, who he meets, what he talks about. Check his belongings if you can. Check his car. Find solid evidence to determine whether he could be Der Wehrwolf. Failing that, learn his schedule so we can set up further reconnaissance. Captain, you're going as a journalist from the American office of a well-connected Argentine newspaper. Miss Prince, you'll be the reclusive American widow of the late trade minister."

Diana frowned. "I would rather be the journalist."

"Miss Prince, these invitations don't grow on trees. It was a major effort to get what we have."

"I just thought-"

"I sympathize with your attitude, but in this job you have to leave your less-urgent convictions at the door and focus on what's at stake. Can you do that?"

"... Why would anyone think invitations grew on trees?"

"I'll take that as a yes. The vital fact is, from what we know of the guest list, no one should recognize either of your covers. You can go in and act like perfect strangers. Couldn't be easier."

"Very well."

"Listen, you're the rookie, Miss Prince. Captain Trevor here is the expert. I want you to follow his lead. Normally, I would never send an amateur into the action like this, but you have extraordinary potential. Prove to me that you can do the job discreetly, and I'll prove to you that I can convince America to join the Amazonian cause."

"Yes! Good. I accept."

"And Captain, I expect you to show her the ropes. This is a serious operation, not a kindergarten. Can you handle that?"

Steve's expression wasn't pleased, but it was determined. "Yeah."

"Excellent. Miss Prince, I believe this is your stop. Good job today. We'll meet tomorrow to set up the details."

Diana said her goodbyes and exited the car.

Steve waved fondly after her, but when the door shut, his expression snapped to naked hostility. "Miss Waller, what do you think you're doing?"

If Amanda Waller was surprised or offended at his new attitude, she didn't let it show. "Whatever do you mean, Captain?"

"I get it. You want Diana to be another gun in your holster. She's strong enough to tip over a bus, and you want that muscle to break things."

"I do. I want her because she's strong, but also resilient, and fearless, and shows integrity to a fault. And also because she might have an entire country of friends who are as strong. Is there a problem?"

"Hey, she can do what she wants. Enjoy your human howitzer. But where do you get off sending her undercover?"

"Oh? Are you suggesting she doesn't have a knack for trying on identities? That she lacks the charm and empathy to put people at ease? I understand her English used to be much worse even two months ago. That shows some brains, wouldn't you say?"

"But without any training, without any evaluation-"

"Espionage has a long, proud history of learning on the fly."

"You know full well what I'm talking about."

"Do I, Captain? Tell me specifically how I'm bad at my job."

Steve grimaced and glanced out the window, then looked back at Waller. "She's reckless. She's impulsive. That's suicidial for quick infiltratrions. I've known her for months, and I still can't guess what she's about to do half the time."

"You can't pinpoint her motivations?"

"She's got a big code of ethics, maybe call it chivery. I don't know. She gets these lofty ideas and when she sees something that needs fixing, she goes off half-cocked like Don Quixote and damn the consequences. That's fine for a wrecking ball, but it spells disaster for a sensitive op." He finished the complaint in a loud rush.

Waller leaned forward ever so slightly, and Steve subconsciously leaned back. Her voice was unstoppably controlled. "The problem is, having a wrecking ball would be nice, but my team needs to be flexable. One day I may suddenly need her to play discrete. And that's not a challenge we can introduce gradually. Knowing Diana's sheer destrutive potential, we have to be able to trust her completely from the get-go."

"And I just said you can't trust her. Not for that. I know her better than anyone."

"You do, but I'm a fair judge of character. She's followed along on a few of your jobs already, and discovering that fact took some digging which suggests to me that's she can toe the line." Waller smiled knowingly. "At least when you're there to keep her in line."

"Yeah, through luck. I'm not exactly in a position to give her orders."

"You sell yourself short, Captain. You're smarter than you act. And you care about her - too much for your own good, frankly - but that can be an effective motivation when you need to control someone. Plus, she feels close to you, and that's hard to fake. That's good. If she didn't already like you, we might have to invent you."

"... Have you done that before?"

"Captain, there are many ways to manipulate someone. The basic tradeoffs are that affections are cheaper than bribes and safer than threats, but they're fickle and take more groundwork. It's not my favorite tool."

"Even if you're right, this mission-"

"Is as close to perfect as we're going to get. Unless you slap the host and start singing the West Point fight song, your cover is solid. By all means, play this one cautiously. We have other assets that can follow this Salazar later. Diana's the real mission here. The trip will stress her. If she can handle it, great. And worst case scenario, if things get hot, all the witnesses and all the violence is in another hemisphere."

"Why do any of this? I'll admit I brought her with me in the past, but I never had a hidden agenda. You must know that if Diana senses any deceit in your partnership, she's going to retaliate. She's dynamite. She's Diana-mite."

"Captain Trevor, the paranomal humnoid entity that calls itself Diana Prince is not the most dangerous mystery I've dealt with in my position. She doens't even make the top five. But yes, if she decides to get mean, she could take apart a city block over breakfast. But it's not my mandate to handle damgers passively. It's imperative that I understand what might set her off. That means testing her in a controlled setting as soon as possible. Until then, as long as she's on American soil; as long as she exists on Earth, she's a threat."

"Are you saying-"

"I'll make it very simple. She has to join my team. The only alternative is to nip her in the bud."

"And you think a foreign op is a controlled test?"

"As long as you're there to grade it, yes. Should you discover that her obedience is in question, well, my subordinate provided you with our corrective measures."

"Yeah." Steve's voice was grave. "He did."

"On that note, I have another gift. These are for you."

Waller pulled a paper envelope out of her jacket and handed it to Steve. He unwound the string on shook out several X-rays of a skeleton.

"Are these ..."

"Our own Ms. Prince, in the flesh, coutesy of the strongest X-ray machines on the market. I had some doctors review the images. They say the muscles are inhumanly dense, and the major bones are utterly opaque. Even the thickest regular skeleton should have some some translucence at this resolution, but not hers. We don't know quite what that means yet, but let's assume she wouldn't get a fracture falling off a bicycle."

"When did she get an X-ray?"

"Remember the elevator at the airport?"

"Yes. Wait, you hid an X-ray machine in the elevator?"

"We needed her standing still."

"But I was standing next to her."

"So?"

"Didn't the X-rays hit me?"

"We cropped you out."

"I mean isn't that dangerous?"

"Captain, how many planes have you crashed in your life?"

Steve knitted his brow in thought. "Six. Okay, I see your point. So why give these to me?"

"Not to lecture you on tactics, Captain, but if the moment comes, I suggest you aim where the target defies medical science the least. We circled those in yellow."


Gotham City.

With two phone calls, Lieutenant King Faraday contracted a squad of four FBI agents in Gotham City for the better part of an afternoon. These agents subcontracted help from nine GCPD officers. Together, the thirteen men were tasked with finding a particular metal glove somewhere between Twelfth Street and the corner of the Canning District containing Gotham's infamous Meat Pool. The men were told to look for the scene of a large chase or brawl, most likely in an abandoned building as the police already established that the combatants were only witnessed at Twelfth Street and in the Meat Pool, so any intermediate encounter must have occurred somewhere without witnesses.

Fortunately, there were fewer than twenty locations where a secret fight of the implied magnitude could plausibly happen between the two sightings, even accounting for the most circuitous routes. The thirteen investigators split up into teams and searched the empty buildings one by one. This tended to be a slow process, since many condemned or unfinished sites already looked like the aftermath of a natural disaster, and even experts had trouble discerning tiny clues that might hint at fisticuffs amidst the general decay. Two buildings had squaters, but in both instances the squaters swore they hadn't been home on the night of the conflict, though they also hadn't noticed any unfamiliar damage.

The GothCorp plant was one of the later buildings inspected. Immediately, one of the savvy cops noticed the broken light bulbs, which wasn't conclusive, and the frequent footprints, which was. The team of three lawmen spent half an hour combing the building from ground floor to roof. They found ample signs that a fight had happened and a strong impression that one or both combatants had exited via a chute that led to an unused sewer tunnel. They even found a long steel rod that might have been used as a weapon. However, they found no metal glove, nor any of several other items Faraday warned them to keep an eye out for.

They might have arrived earlier if Amanda Waller had simply asked Diana where exactly her fight had transpired. Diana may well have told her. However, Waller was careful to the point of paranoia when it came to revealing her intentions with Diana. She played it close the vest, using her resources to find what she could without Diana being any the wiser.

Unfortunately, an hour and seven minutes before Waller's investigators arrived, Alfred Pennyworth visited the GothCorp plant, taking advantage of the fact that Bruce was happy to tell him exactly where the fight had occured, room by room, blow by ugly blow. In fact, Bruce had written him a list and sketched a map. Alfred knew where to find every accoutrement Bruce had left behind. He found several, but quite a few were missing, including numerous batarangs, one armored gauntlet, and Bruce's teeth. This was simply odd. Proper detectives wouldn't leave any evidence behind. Alfred wans't sure what to make of this, but he dutifully collected what remaind, including the other armored gaunlet. Alfred also wiped down several items Bruce had touched to remove any fingerprints, including the box above the sewer chute and the steel rod Bruce had weaponized. Alfred was an efficient cleaner, and his visit wasn't didn't take much time at all.