Disclaimer: I don't own Batman. Promise.
Redemption, Retribution, & Restitution
-Chapter Three: RETURN-
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Cinnamon and sugar exploded in her mouth.
Cindy held the largest pastry she had ever seen, so close that it dabbed her nose. Cindy's face was already smeared with white frosting.
"C'mon, Cindy, I want a bite!" With a childish giggle, Danielle did just that, and the two friends devoured the sweet.
Danielle smiled at her best friend. Cindy's hair looked cute today, in four pigtails with pink ties. What could possibly be better than best friends and sweets?
"Do you want another—Cindy?" Danielle looked up. She hadn't felt her friend go. And yet she was all alone, with only the cold breeze winding through the darkening alley to keep her company.
She shivered. Like the sugar that had been on her fingers, the bright streaks of sunlight had faded away and died. Now an orange streetlight shone in the crack between the buildings. Where was Cindy? Slowly she crept out of the cold alley.
Where was she? The street was empty in either direction, pavement stretching into darkness, with only a small circle of a streetlamp to see by. She was fearful to venture. This looked like her street, but—
Suddenly, the streetlight went out.
Cold, ethereal blue light shone down from the full moon overhead. A pure, lonely white globe above a dark planet. The rustling of wings—
CAW CAW CAW CAW! A scream against the night. A raven overhead. A feather falling, brushing her face.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps. She looked around.
A long shadow illuminated against a building. A silhouette that filled her with dread. Was it Zsasz? Somehow she just knew…
The shadow was gone. And she was lost in the darkness.
But not alone. Soft chanting drifted in the air, filled with hidden meaning:
"Dominus illuminatio mea, et salus mea, quem timebo?
Dominus protector vitae mea, a quo trepidabo?"
Then she saw them.
A line of white saints wearing robes and hoods, walking by in single file, singing a psalm. Ten voices singing a message of hope into the night. Where were they going? She scarcely breathed as she followed.
It seemed they walked forever, and the line stopped. The first saint reached into the white robes and procured a key of light. A doorway opened, but Danielle couldn't see the lock. One by one, the saints marched into the other world, the light vanished, and she was again left in darkness.
Tentatively, she went forward, searching the air for the mystery doorway. Ahh, here it was. She could see the outline, faintly shining in the otherwise still night air.
Did it lead to a spirit world? Dare she open it?
For a moment, she thought she ought to go find Cindy and enjoy the cinnamon pastries instead. A knot formed in her stomach.
She touched the doorknob.
The door opened. She stepped inside, her footsteps loud in the silence. She blinked as her eyes adjusted.
"What am I doing here?"
It was her self-defense studio she had entered.
There were no saints inside. The classroom was empty. She tilted her head.
Drip drip drip drip. What was that? She walked closer to the walls, tracing their smoothness, and pulled back the curtains of the window.
Looked like the eye of a storm outside. The sky was grey and wet, spinning in a wild vortex, with an ethereal light just beyond the clouds. Drops began to hit the window, and she hurriedly pulled the curtains over it to keep out the chill.
Cree-ak… cree-ak…
She spun around.
It felt as though the room was fidgeting. The walls and windows were humming. It must really be a fierce storm outside...
The squeaking noise continued.
With a sinking feeling, she realized it was coming from the floor. When she looked down, she gasped.
Footprints were forming on the training mats. Footprints made by translucent feet.
A cloaked figure glided across the room, one of the saints, but not with the sparkling white light she had witnessed earlier. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as the spectre approached. She remained frozen and terrified as it stopped in front of her, footprints remaining in the mats. Skeletal fingers touched her chin and the ghost lifted her head with a flourish. She didn't want to look, but she did.
Theodore's white eye sockets stared down at her. She screamed.
More ghosts appeared in the room, wearing cloaks, yet they could no longer conceal their faces. She recognized them one by one. It was her class. She backed away in horror. It seemed the chant she heard before suddenly returned, louder.
Dominus illuminatio mea, et salus mea, quem timebo?
Dominus protector vitae mea, a quo trepidabo?
Drip drip drip
Why was it raining indoors? And what was that smell?
Drip drip drip
With horror she saw that the walls were running red with blood. She gagged on the overpowering stench. One by one her students remove their hoods. Blank eye sockets stare at her. Matted hair-
Her students were covered in blood. It was their blood covering the classroom walls! Someone had massacred them! They were all dead!
Thump thump thump thump thump! Her heart was beating out of her chest.
What had happened? She tried to scream, but no sound escaped her throat. Who had turned her students into ghosts?
The door opened, and a dark figure entered. She already knew who it was.
Zsasz walked calmly into the center of the room, and one by one the students knelt before him. Danielle screamed at them, begging them to stand up and run as far and as fast as they could, but her voice made no sound. The room was deadly silent except for Zsasz's slow, deliberate footsteps.
Zsasz's cold eyes stared down at her precious students. They bowed their heads.
Danielle watched in horror.
One by one, the students' heads burst into fire. They exploded, human effluence everywhere. Ten human sacrifices, burning like torches in the center of her once-sacred training sanctuary.
"NOOOOOO!" Danielle screamed.
The room erupted in flames.
Danielle screamed until she was hoarse, her lungs choking and wheezing. Her students burned into charcoal on the ground, smoke filled the room, and she was alone - just her and the psycho.
A hand reached through the flames and grabs her neck. Zsasz's mouth was open, a black gaping maw. He lurched forward, a zombie now, his eyes a sickly yellow-green, and he reached for her face with nails that were too long—
"No!" Danielle awoke trembling and sobbing and scrambled to turn on the light. She saw her bed, her dresser, her room, and let out a deep sigh. She was safe.
But that dream… She thought darkly of what she had seen. It was that note. It had all been in there. There was no way in hell she was going back to sleep tonight.
She winced going down the hallway to the office the next morning. On only four hours of sleep, the white walls were getting to her. She gritted her teeth as she prepared to enter her office.
"Hey girl!"
She spun around. "Cindy!" She breathed deeply.
"Did you forget about our tea date, or are you that eager to get started on work?" Cindy frowned. "Hey Dani… You don't look so good. What happened?"
"I- uh-"
Cindy grabbed her arm. "C'mon, tell me over a nice hot cup of something!" She yanked her reluctant best friend down the hall, into the elevator, and over to the small on-campus cafe. As soon as they sat down, hot drinks in hand, Cindy leaned forward, her expression concerned. Danielle immediately felt safer. During the months they had lived together, Cindy had held Danielle through the screaming nightmares, the tears and the sleeplessness, Victor Zsasz's final and lasting legacy to her. Of all people, Cindy would understand.
"You were in my dream last night."
Cindy raised an eyebrow, and Danielle couldn't help but imagine her with cinnamon frosting all over her face. "Was it a good dream? Was I an action hero kicking ass?"
"I wish! It was more like a nightmare… We were eating a pastry, and then suddenly I was in an alley by myself. Then somehow I wound up in my classroom and..." She couldn't continue. Images flashed before her eyes, and she shuddered. The dream had felt so real. "You know that note I told you about yesterday?"
Cindy didn't like her friend's tone. "Yeah?"
"It—it was a threat."
"What?! From who?"
"I have no idea. It's written like a poem…" She took a shaky breath. "They want me to stop teaching self-defense."
"They what?"
"They threatened to 'paint my classroom red' if I didn't end the class. They said they'll target my students."
Cindy scowled. "Why, because people are fighting back? So this person's some sort of criminal who thinks your class is bad for business or something?"
"You know…" Danielle grinned unexpectedly, though it was slightly manic. "I didn't even think about it that way! That must mean we're doing something right, if the wrong kind of people are threatening me!"
"Whoa girl! You don't want to be attracting that kind of energy…"
"I know—God, I know."
"Have you reported it to the police?"
"Yes. I called them last night. An officer is meeting me in the office today."
"Really? Shoot, I should let you go, you don't want to miss them! Make sure they catch that psycho!"
"I thought you should know about it, just in case," Danielle admitted. "I made a mistake last time, when I didn't tell you about Zsasz. I could have put all of you in danger. I did put Matthew in danger—"
"And you still stuck your neck out for him, the ungrateful douche," Cindy muttered.
"—So be mindful of your surroundings, just in case. Hopefully it's just some crackpot trying to scare me."
"Dani," Cindy shook her head, "you've got more than enough to worry about. You don't have to worry about me too." She stood up slowly and stretched. "I gotta get back before Ms. Davis gets in. And you've gotta get back too. But call me—" she ordered her friend, a serious look on her face, "After you talk to the police. Or just come down the hall to let me know how it went. Call me when you get home tonight too, I want to know you got in safe. Call me anytime, even if it's in the middle of the night. I'm always here for you."
Danielle smiled softly. "I know. You're the best friend I could ever hope for… But maybe I won't call you in the middle of the night." She grinned. "I don't want to interrupt whatever you and Dante might be doing!"
"See, this is why we need to get you and Julien together! You should invite him for Friday night! Or Thanksgiving!" Cindy stuck her tongue out sassily.
"I was thinking… could I bring Mrs. Phillips instead? I'm not sure if she has anything to do this year, and I'm trying to convince her…"
"Of course! Let her know we'll have lots of wine!" Cindy winked. "See you Friday night. And call me!" She smiled reassuringly as she left the café.
Danielle sat for another moment, readying herself. I learned my lesson last time. No more taking on the world by myself.
Resolutely she went back into the main lobby, waving hello to Mrs. Phillips, and then took the elevator downstairs, forcing herself to smile. The walk down the hallway seemed longer than she remembered. The walls were so white, and couldn't help but imagine them soaked red-
"Danielle Lee?"
She looked up in relief. Detective Harvey Bullock stood in front of her office door, gnawing on a toothpick. She had never been so happy to see the oafish cop. Now she wouldn't have to go into her studio alone, in light of the horrific nightmares.
"I'm here to see the note and take your statement, miss."
With a genuine smile, Danielle approached the gruff detective.
"Thank you for coming out on this cold Thursday night!"
Her students had only just arrived, still bundled up in their autumn gear, and so thankfully alive. Danielle didn't want to send them away. Having them here, safe with her… she never wanted to let them go. But the conversation from Detective Bullock was fresh in her mind, and she knew what she had to do.
She silently swallowed her apprehension behind a façade of confidence. "I have an announcement to make, everyone. Two nights ago, I received a threatening letter here at the hospital." There were gasps. "In the letter, there were demands made that we shut down this self-defense class, and the writer promises to harm either myself or my students if we do not comply. Now please don't be alarmed." She appraised her students; several of them looked terrified. Understandably so. "We are working with the police to resolve this issue and they are trying to figure out who wrote the note, so they can catch him or her. The police have said to cancel classes for tonight while they examine the evidence. We want to keep you guys safe."
Her students were looked toward one another and back to her. Her heart ached for their confusion. The last thing they needed was to be revictimized… and this situation was threatening to do exactly that, mentally at the very least.
"I know I don't usually see you guys until next Tuesday. The police say you may assume that unless otherwise notified, it should be safe to resume classes next week. They have confidence that they can catch this person before then. But I am obligated to let you know, in case you would like to quit this class for your personal or emotional safety." She met all their eyes, silently telling them that whatever they decided, she would support them.
Jillian walked out first. She had a feeling the young girl would, and she felt a pang in her stomach. The sadness deepened when Mary gave her an apologetic smile and followed Jillian. Finally, Greta sighed before walking by the entire class. "Sorry," she rasped. "I have kids to think about." The door clicked closed behind her. The remaining students kept their attention on her; she saw the resolution in their eyes.
"If any of you change your mind between this class and the next - it won't be held against you! And for you who stay, we will do our absolute best to keep you safe! Keep practicing, you can never practice self-defense too much. Stay safe tonight, everyone, and remember – always remain aware of your surroundings!"
The class began to disperse. "Miss Danielle?"
To her surprise, Scott was standing next to her, looking more apprehensive than usual. "Yes, Scott?"
He swallowed. "There's something important I have to tell you."
She waited until the other students had left and then closed the doors to her studio. "What is it?"
"I know who wrote that note!"
"Wait- what?" Danielle's heart thundered.
"It was the people who attacked me! It must be! They made a phone call to my office yesterday. They threatened me."
"What do they want from you?"
"They want more information. They want to meet me. I've been resisting them..."
"When do they want to meet?"
"They didn't say. They said they'll be in touch." He shivered. "I think they've been watching me. I think they know where I live now. I'm staying with friends, but it won't be long… I know they'll find me there too. What if they already found out I take these classes? They might be the ones who sent you the note!"
Something in her student's tone made her senses tingle. "Have they been escalating?"
He nodded. "I think I've outlived my usefulness. I'm… I'm a chemist. They've been getting information from me about my work."
"Scott, that spot where they attacked you… Where was it?"
His face paled. "Near the shipyards."
"Can you tell me their names, what they look like?"
"But-but what if they find out I told you-"
"Everything that's said in this room stays in this room. You can tell me the situation, and I can figure out a way to help you."
"But-" His eyes swept the room frantically.
"They won't find out," she put a hand on his shoulder. "I understand. You're scared. Tell me if there's any way I can help you, anything at all, that will give you an advantage and keep you even a second safer. I'll do everything I can to protect you, Scott." And possibly this entire class.
He swallowed. "There's more. You won't tell anyone, will you?"
"No. I won't tell anyone. Anything that's said in this room stays in this room. Now what else is going on?"
The evening mist cooled her flaming face. So it wasn't just a bullying gang. An organized crime group was targeting her student. She couldn't even begin to imagine his fear…
Those monsters are going to pay! she thought darkly.
As she stalked down the streets, she passed one particularly dark alley and glared mistrustfully into the shadows. Only then did she notice the pastry shop on the corner for the first time. Her mouth fell open.
Above her!
She spun. The fluttering of wings overhead… No… Not a raven after all…
"You wouldn't happen to be stalking me, now would you?" she called.
"Very funny," Batman intoned as he landed on the pavement and strode toward her. She had the distinctive feeling that he had deliberately let her hear his approach.
The streetlights gleamed off his cowl, the leather and metal of his gauntlets, creating a mask of strength and fear. Danielle smiled. In spite of how intimidating he was, even to her, she always felt so safe whenever he was there.
"What have you found out about Mr. Jones?"
She straightened up immediately. "He was attacked by members of an organized crime group, out by the docks last week. They're planning to assault him again. They want trade-related information from him."
Batman's eyes narrowed. "What kind of information?"
"He's been working with a special element called red phosphorus. Scott's a chemist for a private company – Zucchini Chemicals or something."
Zubin Zucchini. I know him. Last I heard he was working in sulfur. "Go on."
"They called him today at work to set up another meeting but they haven't specified the date or place yet." He wanted me to show him how to defend against a knife attack. Heck, he wanted to know about my scars! Her hand rose to the diamond scar on the back of her neck. Those monsters must have cut him up too, in a place that isn't visible, or else threatened to. "They looked part Italian, he said, and were dressed in plainclothes, a couple of them were wearing suits. One of them was wearing a lot of rings, but he couldn't remember what the insignias on them were…"
"Sounds like a crime boss," Batman mused. His mind worked quickly; the Falcones were making moves to come back into the shipyards. They had a long history of bribing or stealing from certain companies, as well as manufacturing and selling illegal drugs. It was probably them. "Is Mr. Jones safe now?"
"He's staying with some friends, starting tonight for as long as he needs to, but he thinks they might try to come after him again. His friends have been driving him to and from work and making sure he doesn't go anywhere alone."
"Thank you Miss Lee, you've been very helpful. One more thing."
"Yes?"
"I got a message from Commissioner Gordon." He held out his hand. "Something about a note?"
She stiffened. In Batman's black gauntleted hand lay the evil note. It was inside an evidence bag, the same one Detective Bullock had put it in when he left her office earlier today. Something about the sight of that little note sitting there made her apprehensive, as if somehow its very presence endangered her - even though it was just paper and ink. Her name stared up mockingly at her, all cursive and swirls.
"Yes," she murmured. "That's the one." Batman put the note back into one of the pouches on his utility belt, and she felt a great weight dropping off her. Batman was here. Suddenly, she felt like everything was going to be OK.
"I read it earlier. Charming nursery rhyme," Batman muttered. "Any idea who could have sent this? Have you made any enemies?"
"I have no idea," she answered honestly. "I gave my statement to the police yesterday, they said they'll try to track whoever it is down… You don't think it's from the same people who are targeting Scott, do you?"
Batman noticed that her posture had changed slightly, a difference from the assertive young woman Danielle had become over the last three years. This note must be really upsetting her, not that he blamed her. Someone was threatening the cause that he and Danielle had built: the self-defense classes. Someone was not happy… and while he had a small list of suspects, he needed more clues.
"Commissioner Gordon said they're reviewing the security footage in the hospital to see if they can spot the note writer. If they can't - I'll figure it out who's behind this."
She nodded. "Thank you, Batman—" When she looked up, he was gone.
No, not totally – there he was, sailing up through the frosty air, slipping away into the night. She raised a hand in thanks and saw him wave back.
She couldn't help but think that he must have a heart of gold to do what he did, risking his life to save Gotham every single night of every year. He had certainly saved her. He had been the source of her inspiration when she was at Zsasz's mercy, at the darkest moment of her life. And this was why she vowed to be as helpful to the Dark Knight as possible. One person should not bear the weight of the world alone.
Hopefully he's not alone. He has Robin, right? And Batgirl. And… Even though she hadn't seen Catwoman again, not since that night on the Sprang Bridge, she held out hope that somehow the femme fatale and the Caped Crusader had found solace in each other. That would be rather…romantic. A giddy smile graced her face.
The boat slid slowly into the mooring position at the docks of Amusement Mile. All hands stood at the ready to unload the cargo – all hands but four.
Footsteps echoed on the upper deck, where no one else could hear. Warm blood dripped slowly from still fingers. Four dead sailors sat in a room, reading nautical maps. A man walked out of the room- The room was always so hot after a kill- blood from his boots smearing the hardwood floor. More blood, more crimson liquid, dripped from the knife. His hands shook, and the knife dropped with a loud clatter.
He walked slowly and barely evenly. A faint buzzing jostled his ears. He couldn't tell if the sound came from his own racing thoughts or from the hum of the ship's engines.
The man gazed blankly out at the cityscape, no emotion on his face. And yet he knew that he had come to the right place. There was something…here, waiting for him.
The man pulled the jacket around himself tighter. He noted that the air was cold, almost winter. He hoped he has not been followed. He knew that no matter where he went, he could be tracked. He had the sense that he wasn't safe anymore and that he was more vulnerable than he ever was before. But he knew this city was familiar. Safety lay here somewhere.
The planks had been lowered. It was just a matter of slipping away when no one was looking. When everyone was distracted.
He didn't have long to wait. One of the workmen dropped a box, and the commotion drew everyone around him. Meanwhile the man disembarked and as his bloodstained leather boots touched land, specifically cobblestone, cold blue eyes peered up through the heavy hood of the coat to glare out at the scenery. In his thoughts, he heard a dark chuckle.
Hello Gotham – I'm back!
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