Gotham City
9.57AM
An ivory Mercedes-Maybach S560 crawled through the city streets, engine purring softly as it eased through the traffic. The tinted windows were up and the heater was on to fight the cold. A moderately keen observer would have noted the unusual license plates and the flag banner mounted on the vehicle, but it was Sunday morning and most of the people who were out today were either coming from or going to church.
The stereo was tuned to some talk-radio station. Diana half-listened as she watched people bustle along the sidewalk, going about their lives without a care in the world. What she'd give to be one of them, to have normal problems on her mind instead of such weighty ones.
"How much further?" she asked.
"About five blocks, your majesty." the driver replied.
"I think I'll just walk."
"Princess?"
"Its just five blocks. I can manage."
"Princess, I'm well aware of that, but my boss will grill me over a spitroast and eat me with apple sauce if I let you go anywhere unattended. I'm supposed to be-"
"My shadow, I know, but it was hard enough convincing the State Department that I only needed one bodyguard so I could remain inconspicuous. Tell you what, just park the car outside the building and wait for me at the reception when you get there."
"Princess-"
"I can manage, Boyd, this is hardly a diplomatic visit after all. Just keep it between us. Steve... Colonel Trevor doesn't need to know about this."
"If you say so, your majesty."
Bruce woke to the feel of crisp clean sheets on his skin, the sound of birds chirping, and absolutely no pain in his body. Slowly, very slowly, he opened his eyes.
He was in his bedroom.
Good.
He wasn't dead.
Even better.
Zatanna was here, cross legged at the foot of his King size bed, humming as she flipped through a copy of the Gotham Gazette.
"How are we feeling?" she asked without looking up.
"Okay." he replied.
"Not good, not great, but okay. Hmm, I suppose that's the best I'll get." she glanced up at him. "You're really heavy by the way. Like, if I didn't have a levitate spell, we'd have left you downstairs in the Cave. I don't even know how Alfred carried you."
"He's a lot tougher than he looks."
"How much do you weigh anyhow?"
"The last time I checked, around 210 pounds." he said, sitting up. He noted with mild alarm that his scars were totally gone, even some of the old ones from years back.
"My scars are gone."
"Yup, healing spells will do that to you."
"I see."
"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunity to abuse your body in the near future. The war wounds will be back before you know it."
"How long was I out?"
"Six months, give or take."
"What?!"
"Calm down Bruce, more like 72 hours, maybe 74. It was touch and go there for awhile, luckily w...I managed to pull you back from the brink." she paused. "This is the part where you thank me for saving your life, Bruce."
"Thank you for saving my life, Zatanna."
"Good." she beamed. "Now with a few more weeks of training you'll be a fully functional human being. Who knows? You might even be my first testimonial. 'Behavioral Psychologists hate her! See how she got rid of a man's antisocial tendencies with one simple trick!'"
"How did you..."
"How did I save you from certain death? Well, I could bore you with the details, but the dark arts aren't something even your big brain can understand."
"I owe you."
"Yeah you do, you owe me forever." she sighed, tossing the newspaper aside. "Bruce, what the hell?"
"What?"
"What do you mean 'what'? You almost died, does that not bother you at all?"
"You saved me."
"Yeah, and if I wasn't there to save you? What would you have done then?"
"I'd have died and left Alfred a very generous severance package."
"Normally your pitch-black comedy is kinda cute, right now its just pissing me off."
"I don't know what you want me to say, Zatanna."
"Sorry would be nice, but that's never gonna happen so I'll just settle for an account of what the fuck happened with a side order of why."
"Trust me, you don't want to know."
"After what I saw, I think I do. Anyone that can do that to you scares me, frankly speaking."
"I didn't know you had such confidence in my abilities." he half smiled.
"Save the charming douchebag routine for the society girls, okay?"
His face turned grim. "Fine, I'll tell you." And so he did, leaving nothing out, not even the very bad parts.
"Its that guy from the hotel, right? That Deathstroke guy with way too much orange in his outfit."
"Yes."
"I thought it was all taken care of?"
"Clearly it wasn't."
"So...He's still out there?"
"Yes."
"God...So he's been hired to kill you?"
"Yes."
"What's the plan?"
"The plan is I get back to work."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"No pursuit? You're not exactly the forgive and forget type."
"Deathstroke isn't your average mook with a gun and a gimmick, he's a professional. If I really have been out for three days then I'm sure he's long gone and he's covered his tracks well. The trail has gone cold. Pursuing him would be a waste of time."
"But he has a contract on your head."
"Yes, meaning he'll be back, and I'll be ready for him. In the meantime I've got work to do. There's a serial killer on the loose, and as strange as it may sound, the assassin trying to kill me will just have to sit on the back-burner."
Zatanna pursed her lips as he rose from the bed and began stretching. Alfred had finally taken his costume off and he was dressed only in briefs, so they didn't really leave anything to the imagination. Bruce strode over to his closet and picked out some clothes, totally unconcerned with the fact that she could see his meat and two veg bulging through the black cotton.
"I'll...I'll...Uh...Yeah, you get dressed, I'll go downtown..I mean downstairs!...Yeah...Downstairs..." she stuttered awkwardly, her face red as she reversed out of the room. He nodded, picking out sweatpants and a grey hoodie then putting on his trainers. His mind was already elsewhere, calculating and strategizing.
Downstairs,
Billiards Room
"Good Lord, you're killing me man!" Constantine exclaimed, watching Alfred sink yet another ball with a three-point bank shot. "You could have told me you were Ronnie O'Sullivan's long lost brother."
"When it comes to snooker sir, I prefer to let my skills speak for themselves." Alfred smiled, chalking his cue stick and sinking the final ball.
"Well, you two got buddy-buddy real quick." Zatanna said, walking into the room.
"Sport, Miss Zatanna. Sport is a universal language."
"I'm sorry, pool is a sport now?"
"D'you see what kind of ignorance I've been dealing with, Alfred? She thinks snooker is the same as pool, and she dares make a mockery of it. You don't see me mocking Nascar racing, do you? A bunch of fat blokes driving round and round and round and round for hours on end-"
"You're kind of mocking it now, John."
"Never mind all that. How's our patient doing?"
"He's awake."
"Excellent. Shall we discuss payments? I'd prefer cash, obviously."
"No payments, it was a professional favour."
"Yeah, for you, Zee. For me, it was a kidnapping."
"Don't be so dramatic. You got to sleep in a bedroom bigger than your entire apartment, eat five star cooking and literally have someone wait on you hand and foot."
"That's true, and my goodness Alfred you make a mean pot roast-"
"Why thank you sir."
"But I offered a professional service, Zee, and I expect to get paid for it. I mean, clearly, this guy doesn't lack financial resources."
"Fine, I'll get your money."
John leaned back against the billiards-table, a look of mistrust on his face.
"Just like that eh? Usually you put up more of a fight when I ask for...anything."
"Yeah, well, I figure I owe you on this one, seeing as how I teleported you across a continent without your consent and all. Just don't get used to it."
"I doubt I ever will."
"Good. Alfred, I need to speak with you in the kitchen about...Er...Breakfast arrangements."
"Breakfast arrangements?"
"Yeah...You know...For when he comes down. He hasn't eaten in three days, remember?"
"Oh." Alfred said. "Oh." he said again, eyes widening as he got her meaning. "Yes, certainly, the breakfast. Let us discuss...The breakfast. In the kitchen. Where we cook meals."
"Are you two alright?"
"Us? Yeah we're fine. Totally fine. Its just the patient...Really values his breakfast. He hates people intruding on his breakfast. Breakfast is very personal to him. He's...Into Crossfit, so he has to make sure he gets his macros in down to the last gram."
"...Yeah. Anyway, I'll just be down here, waiting. It better be cash, Zee, you know how I feel about cheques."
"Oh, don't worry, it'll be cash. Alfred, if you will-"
"Of course, Miss Zatanna."
They ambled off down the hallway and Zatanna pulled him into the pantry.
"Okay, Bruce is awake but he's probably not coming to this side of the mansion anytime soon, right?"
"Not until he's done his daily exercise routine."
"What does that involve exactly?"
"A great many things, but its Sunday and that's his rest day, so he'll run twenty miles and that'll be all."
"A twenty mile run is how he gives his body a break? Is he literally chasing down criminals every night? What's the point of having that fancy car and jet and bike?"
"That's a question I've often asked myself."
"So how long does that usually take?"
"He typically runs a four minute mile...So an hour and a half at least."
"Great, gives us plenty of time."
"Plenty of time to do what?...You haven't told him about your friend, have you?"
"Of course not. Do you see any way that goes down without me getting an earful about bringing strangers to his home?"
"...No."
"Exactly. Now I have a plan, but I'll need your help. Don't worry, you won't have to dig a grave or anything."
"I certainly hope not."
"Just follow my lead. I'll give you the signal."
"Alright."
They emerged from the pantry and went back to the billiards room, where Constantine was practicing a bank-shot without much success.
"Done with breakfast already?"
"No, he wants to see you."
"What, the guy? The guy whose name you refuse to tell me?"
"Yes, the guy. He wants to thank you in person for saving his life."
"Well, its the least he could do." John smirked, popping his collar. "Which way?"
"Just down this hallway and up the stairs."
"Right."
They walked in silence for sometime, coming to a set of stairs which they climbed, Alfred in the lead, John in the middle, Zatanna bringing up the rear.
"Okay Alfred, now!" she called.
"Now what?" John asked, turning around. "Is this some kind of-"
Alfred smacked him hard on the back of the head with a wooden bat, and John fell rather ungracefully down the very long flight of stairs. At last he came to a halt, groaned, and then lay still. His left leg twitched uncontrollably.
"Alfred, what the hell?!"
"You said 'now'."
"Yeah, like, 'grab him now', not 'hit him as hard as you can and give him a traumatic brain injury now'! Look at his leg! His leg shouldn't be doing that! Where'd you even get that cricket bat? Have you been hiding it in your pants or what?"
"No, I got it from the umbrella holder in the lobby."
"Who keeps a bat next to their umbrellas?"
"Who keeps a secret lair in their basement?"
"Don't you think that was, I don't know, overkill to knock him out like that?"
"In all fairness Miss Zatanna, this plan of yours doesn't make any sense. Why not just take him when he was downstairs, or better yet, immediately after the job was done? Why wait all this time only to come up with some half-baked idea?"
"Look, planning ahead isn't really a necessary skill for a stage magician. I just wing it, y'know?"
"Houdini-"
"Was an illusionist with no real magical powers to fall back on."
"Quite right."
"Okay, just...Help me lift him."
"Certainly. May I ask, what were you planning to do with the fellow once I got a hold of him?"
"Wipe his memory and teleport him back home before Bruce realizes-"
"Realizes what?"
Zatanna jumped at the sound of the voice, dropping John's upper half. His head thunked noisily against the banister and he groaned.
"Bruce! Hiiiiiii! You're not running today?"
"I wanted to check the news first, but then I saw this, which seems far more interesting."
"Oh yeah? Well, its not. Don't let Alfred and I get in the way of your daily news briefing. Its important to stay informed in these politically charged times, what with a new protectionist administration, the threat of World War on the horizon, personal data in the hands of shadowy organisations-"
"Who is this man." Bruce cut in flatly.
"This man?" she said casually, like he'd asked about the weather. "Oh, this is John Constantine. He's a good friend of mine."
"He looks hurt."
"Yeah, he ah...He tripped and fell."
"He tripped and fell backwards, while going up a flight of stairs."
"Yup. Between you and me, John's kind of an alkie. His motor skills are shot to shit. I wouldn't trust this guy with a pair of safety scissors."
Bruce looked slowly and deliberately at the cricket bat in Alfred's hands, then he looked back at Zatanna.
"Why do you want to wipe his memory? And what is it I'm not supposed to know?"
"Well... Its a funny story actually."
"Do tell. I just love a good anecdote, especially those involving unconscious strangers in my home."
"Er...I'll just go get breakfast ready then..."
"Not so fast Alfred. You're in this too."
"I was afraid you might say that, sir. May I just say, we did it for your own good."
"I'll be the judge of that."
Alfred and Zatanna shared a glance, then settled into the armchairs like errant children about to face a tedious lecture from their parents.
A/N: Read and Review.