Gotham Knights Chapter 03
The garden was beautiful, the landscaper and gardeners together created something spectacular. The vivid colours of the exotic flowers, combined with the decorated trees and water features had created an environment of colourful fantasy. In stark contrast with the dark skyline view of the city in the distance, Gotham.
How he ended up here surrounded by aspiring, well-to-do sycophants is a mystery. He sometimes wondered which of his sins had placed him in this new life. A life of great privilege, so hollow at its core. All of them on the surface so beautiful and generous at these charity events, while underneath the jostling for status and power commences with every word, expression and act shared with their "friends". All for some imagined throne in Gotham high society.
He sighs despondently, with a look of melancholy, out of place on the face of an 8 year old. He was a very pretty boy, tall for his age with striking blue eyes, the only part of himself he still recognizes when he looks in the mirror. If Bucky could see him now, he would be laughing his ass off.
Pitch black hair, cut unflatteringly short, of which he got an earful of complaints from his mother. This rebellious impromptu haircut not endearing him much further with her. He could just not tolerate having hair that long after a lifetime with a crew cut. Also it doesn't help that if you put him in a dress with hair that long you could easily mistake him for a very pretty girl. Pre-or post super soldier serum, Steve Rogers, at no time in his life before had ever been mistaken for a pretty girl.
"Ah Stephen there you are !" an elegant, beautiful blond haired woman exclaims, wearing a stylish and expensive black evening dress, as she walks towards him. Statuesque with vivid blue eyes, she looked annoyed if you knew how to read her. To the rest of the world she was composed and showing a pleasant expression as she hunted down her son.
Catherine Dumas behind her façade was annoyed and exasperated by her youngest son. She had done her duty by supplying the Dumas family two sons, an heir and a spare. The eldest , Mark, was faithfully following the tradition of advancing the family's wealth, status and power in Gotham City. Befriending the scions of all Gotham elites thereby establishing connections with all the possible future movers and shakers in Gotham high society. In school or at events such as these Mark excels in rubbing shoulders with his peer group, learning the insider language and the official and unofficial rules. Stephen despite numerous encouragement by his parents, starting from subtle to actively withhold some of his privileges if he does not comply, has so far shown no inclination to toe the line.
Preferring rather to spend his time with lower working class people, even going so far as to join them in the muck helping out in the garden, mansion kitchen and car stable. She could understand it if he was learning to manipulate such people by these acts of charity, while ensuring that they are aware of who truly rules and who obeys. Their paternal grandfather had been very good at these kinds of strategy undermining Gotham City workers unions by being generous to his "special friendships" among the worker class. Alas at 8 years he had shown no such guile and seems to honestly gain enjoyment from these acts. It utterly bewildered a woman like Catherine Dumas.
"Hello mother" he answers her politely while standing at attention. He had no doubt that she would be reprimanding him for sitting here looking at the garden and the city lights in the distance, and not hobnobbing with the children of the rich and spoilt.
She gives him a quick exasperated look, gone even before you realize it was there, the façade back in place. " Please Stephen mind your manners, it is very disrespectful to leave our guests alone to amuse themselves. Be a good boy and spend some time among them, learn who they are, you may just make a few friends." She says before giving him a motherly smile.
"Yes mother" is however his only response as he gives her a small bow before wandering to a group of children. Who were amusing themselves by comparing and boasting to each other who has the most expensive toys and whose parents are the most popular and richest.
He sighs as he stands just outside of the group, feeling even more of an outsider than he had in his previous life. He glances briefly to an older group of children seeing his brother revelling at being the center of attention hosting his "friends" on the Dumas estate. When Steve Rogers woke up in the body of Stephen Dumas 5 years ago he was confused. He had distinctly remembered peacefully passing away surrounded by his children and grand children fully expecting to meet his Maker and judgement to come down on all his acts in life, good and bad. He had not expected an extension to be given, due to unforeseen circumstances.
It had taken him a long while to adjust to his new reality, to realise he was in the past … again …. but this time in a different world. A world in which no Captain America every existed but a Captain Atom does, as well as a whole host of other heroes. They had impressively managed to create an independent organization under which they were all united and governed: The Justice League.
Steve had spent years as a hero soldier, then decades as the mysterious husband to Peggy. Keenly aware that he should not change anything of the past so as to ensure that the future followed it's set path. He knew how everything Peggy was building with SHIELD would become corrupted by HYDRA. That Bucky would suffer for years as the Winter Soldier and that a lot of good men and women would die throughout the years, yet kept silent. Only with the cold comfort that at the end it would be worth the sacrifice to beat Thanos, to undo THE SNAP.
"Whatever it takes"
He had buried Peggy twice, as a young man just out of the ice and as an old man who had spend a lifetime with her creating a family. He had nothing to prove to himself or anyone else, his experiences having given him that self-confidence.
The idea of starting a new life without any expectations other than those he placed on himself definitely appealed to him, especially without the spectre of THE SNAP hanging over his head. As well as doing some good other than using his fists, with fate giving him the best of starts living in wealth and privilege. He had just not realized how the superficiality of his new family would wear on him.
He soon worked out that the very motherly woman looking after him was not his mother, but the nanny. It was another six months before he met his biological mother in this life. It was for a photoshoot where he was dressed very cutely and placed in the arms of his mother in a room covered in the décor style of elegance and wealth. After which she handed him back to the nanny, going to another appointment. It was another six months when he joined his father, mother and brother at a charity event with a lot of press photography, he was left predominantly with the nanny, only brought out for photos to be taken as needed. He was a fashion accessory that a man and woman of means in Gotham's high society needed for these events. Looking at his brother he could see he wasn't treated much better, he tried to form a connection with him but Mark had not wanted to be bothered by a pesky little brother unsurprisingly. Mark's childhood being a life of similar social events and grandstanding, if on a smaller scale than our parents.
Any guilt on being a changeling in this family went out the window as he saw more and more of his parents' personality. He could have been a living mannequin for all the actual love and attention he had received from them over the years. Rather he had formed bonds with the staff, among the hard working men and women running and maintaining the huge Dumas estate.
Four more years or four years, 1 month and 2 days to be exact, until being send to a boarding school. Never has any child looked so forward to getting away from his family so much. Instead of being dragged around to be seen as a family with all the right people or in the right places, he could focus on his own interests and not just the parentally pre-approved education provided by his own private tutor.
After THE SNAP for those 5 years he had found an interest in psychology. There had been a lot of people whose minds and souls had to be put back together after the loss of so many, including his own during that dark time.
He could see himself doing some good in it, though it was not a profession he could see the Dumas family regard with any respect. Being a scion of one of Gotham City's illustrious founding families actual work was looked down on in general and if you must do it, nothing less than being a power player in Gotham's politics, industry or social scene will do.
He could only tolerate standing around in a group of children so long, before getting mind-numbingly bored as listening to the conversations of 8-10 year old's were not the most stimulating of activities for him. Which made him one of the first to see it floating in the sky, as his eyes roamed around for a distraction. It was floating surprisingly fast in there direction and was above them before most guests noticed, and then they all saw it, the face on the side of the Zeppelin. Many a guest felt the blood drain from their face, becoming just as pale as the one seen on the airship, with its blood red lipped maniacal grin and neon green coloured hair; The Joker has come gatecrashing .
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I am not a child, I may physically be 8 year's old, but where it counts I am an old soldier. While everyone was staring up I was already observing and strategizing my next step. Security was situated at the boundary of the estate, designed more to keep people out, than deal with a hostage like situation which this was going to turn into soon. The politically sensitive guest have already been whisked away by their security at the first sign of trouble, the rest of us left to fend for ourselves.
Highest priority the children, all of them looking at the zeppelin with open curiosity and no fear, some even moving closer to an area where rope ladders have dropped down from the airship. Question, how do you prevent sheltered children from stepping into the line of fire, and at the same time get them to move away from danger very quickly. Answer, you use a hose pipe
I had seen how Tom, the family landscaper had put together the elaborate water features for this evening's garden event. A few quick pulls and some breakage and I had an improvised hose pipe in each hand, which I then direct onto me and my brother's peers.
"Ahhh cold ! " "I'm wet!" "Stop that Stephen! " " I'm gonna tell Nana!" "Papa ! make him stop!" and various other shouts by them reach my ears as I chase them away from approaching the rope ladders. I note with some sadness that none of the children head towards their parents, rather they go to their minders and keepers, luckily all of whom are on the opposite side of the social gathering, furthest away. Classism for once working in my favor, keeping the children as far from danger as currently possible.
Then he arrives, like a grand ringmaster, dropping off from high the rope he holds onto slowing his descent until he touches the ground. In an expensive, purple coloured custom tailored suit and tie, with green shirt and a pink daffodil in his suit pocket, he gave off one overwhelming impression of CRAZY!. His henchmen already on the ground as well, ready for the night's activities their weapons out for all to see, each one wearing their own distinctive clown mask.
Then he looks at me and gives me a wide demented smile, and I do not enjoy being under the scrutiny of Gotham's Clown Prince of Crime. I feel like a deer, frozen in the headlights of an oncoming speeding truck and there is nothing I can do about it. I am powerless and it is a feeling I have not missed from my old life.
"It does my heart good to see such high jinx and mischief from the youth of today, let me tell you ! Hahahaha" he maniacally cackles as he slowly walks over to me. "Tell me, my boy have you ever considered a life of excitement and suspense, a life of comedy and tragedy, care to join me and my merry fellows in a life of crime ?! Hehehe " he asked with a comically raised eyebrow, his demented grin never leaving his face throughout this little speech.
The Joker's goons are moving through the crowd intimidating people while stealing jewellery and other valuables. No one is making a move the man's reputation having spread far and wide. I spot my mother, and she is scared her mask no longer in place, and its for my sake, what a time to find out she does care.
I did not want agitate this man but have a feeling that anything I say will trigger him "Sorry Mr. ..eh… Joker, I just don't see much of a future in it." I reply truthfully and nervously, it feels very much like holding a live grenade as the seconds tick by one, two, three, four, five….
His chuckling builds up slowly, gaining in volume and soon breaks out in crazy laughter "No future in it, he says ….. hahah…. Sorry about that he says… hahah" he is holding his stomach as he laughs tears streaming down his face. I didn't think what I said was that funny.
The next moment I have a gun pointed at me, while his other hand is still holding his stomach, his head thrown back in laughter. The barrel is positioned for a shot right between my eyes, he isn't even looking at me as he gets ready to pull the trigger.
"Whatcha doing Mr. J ?" a squeaky feminine voice asks him and I see a figure in a black, white and red jester's costume come in behind him. Harley Quinn, the Maiden of Mischief, Joker's partner in love and madness. I don't feel relieved seeing her with him.
"Harley ! hehehe I was just offering our young mischief maker here an opportunity of a lifetime" his grin stretching even more wider as he looks at me. "He refused my generous offer so I am just encouraging him to reconsider or I will make it the last opportunity in his lifetime hehehe " he says looking at me while pouting mockingly.
"What opportunity is that Mr. J? " she asks him while draping her arms over his shoulders from behind.
"Why to come under my tutelage, living a life of adventure ! " he answers.
"Uhhh… no" she tells him.
"Why not Harleykins ?!, the bat has his boy wonder, why can't I get one ? Heheheh" the gun totting clown asks with a frown.
"Cause this will be Snookums and Sweetpea all over again! You get tired of them, leave me to take care of them and clean up their crap. I am not looking after a snot nosed brat too !" she shouts at him.
" I thought you liked the hyenas" he says with a hurt tone while grinning at her. "Besides he looks house trained to me" he replies glancing at me. " No!" she responds with a note of finality and during this entire conversation at no stage did the gun aimed at me waiver in the slightest.
Honestly I don't know if he would have shot me. I would like to think no one is that demented, but fortunately I never found out. A grappling hook shot out, yanking Joker and his harlequin to one side, his gun flying out of his hand. I ran for cover underneath one of the tables. Dumas estate security finally show up and hustled people out of harm's way. I saw mother frantically looking for me as they dragged her out of danger. I need to cover a bit of a distance to join them and for the moment where I am at seems safest. Also giving me an excellent view to what was happening to Joker and his gang.
"Bats I missed you !" the Joker banters as he delivers a vicious shot to Batman's face. Its plain to see that they have done this dance many times. The Joker brandishing knives, handling them expertly, as he tries to repeatly slash and stab Batman. Joker's fighting style is all over the place, but its unpredictability giving him an edge. One which he needs as Batman is a solid fighter, countering and delivering brutal blows and kicks in turn. The fighting style reminding me of Natasha and Clint, quick and precise. No wasted movement going straight for vital areas. He does not seem to be trying to kill him, but the Joker is not giving him the same consideration.
The fighting moves Batman is placing on the Joker would have crippled or killed a normal man, I suspect that some of those would hurt even if you were a super soldier. Batman's gloves reinforced with brass knuckles, using them optimally hitting exactly were it would do the most damage. Joker has to be more than human, what I have heard called metahumans, which is honesty really much better than calling them mutants.
The harlequin is being occupied by Batman's sidekick, Robin. He looks about my age and is light on his feet with acrobatic moves distracting her with kicks and punches, he has her all tied up after a few minutes. She is more of a brawler and boy wonder is well trained. A quick glance to the side shows Joker's goons in a similar situation, all tied up.
Finally Batman has the Joker down, the clown's left hand clutching an injured right arm. "Well Bats, never let it be said I don't go out with a bang …. Hehehehe" the Joker says with a grin as he looks up at Batman. It's the only warning we get as an explosion rocks as all from the back.
When I manage to get back up on my feet, a bit dazed, I see the henchmen and the harlequin still tied up, but no sign of the Joker. I look back and see my home or at least what is left of it within the remains and I pray that everyone had already been evacuated before this happened.
The sight of it hammers home to me that I may have gotten a second chance, but will everyone else be so fortunate ?. I had become complacent, a part of me thinking that now that I am no longer the super soldier, Captain America, that these battles are someone else's problem. Forgetting that you can never run from these fights or that once you start running you may never stop. It was time for me stop running and get ready.
Batman and Robin are standing looking at the destruction as I limp my way towards them. "What was this about ?" I hear Robin ask Batman. The caped crusader replies with one word "Misdirection".
They spots me as I approach them, Robin stepping forward with a concerned look. "Are you alright miss ?"
Puberty cannot come to me soon enough.
