[All characters - or almost all - property of DC!]
Chapter 16 - Investigations
Gotham City
Batman grabbed his grappling line, leapt and swung to his right rapidly, a split second before a hail of bullets slammed into the wall directly behind him, sending chunks of concrete whizzing past his head. He somersaulted in the air and landed nimbly on his feet on the pavement, and batarangs went hurtling towards the masked men who just opened fire on him.
A foolish mistake, he thought. They'll learn now.
His tools found their targets and the men collapsed, howling with pain, their guns dropping from their bloody hands. Their screams only added to the cacophony of chaotic sounds filling the Gotham night air: the wail of police sirens, screams of panic, tires screeching, and above it all the unmistakable noise that was the pounding recoil of automatic weapons. Other gangbangers were running amok in the streets, firing indiscriminately, thoughtless if they hit civilians if only a lucky shot could fell the infamous Batman. He didn't need to hear the police transmissions reporting that the 'incident' was spiraling out of control to know it was. Way out.
Batman thought that the 'incident' had escalated rather quickly, all things considered. It had started as a quiet night in Gotham or as quiet as Gotham ever got. Tonight he had gone out to investigate lurid claims that an underground dog-fighting ring was using humans as bait – and food for their animals - in their perverted illegal sport. He hated all crimes but this one was particularly egregious.
He'd located the ring easily enough, with only a little persuasion on some of Gotham's typical night-dwellers. The underground club was in one of the city's numerous 'economically depressed' areas - the rank smells of blood and shit were a giveaway. He'd found no victims but plenty of skeletal remains, which sickened him. Human depravity had no bounds, he thought.
Yet the only one thing that had surprised him was the level of resistance he encountered - no sooner had the perpetrators realized that it was the Batman they immediately opened up with everything they had. Perhaps not so unsurprising given that they must know what he would do to them.
The caliber of weaponry was also unusual: the gang was equipped not only with pistols and full automatic rifles but rocket-propelled grenades and launchers. Batman correctly deduced stolen military but he intuited something more going on than a mere dog-fighting ring – but he had to capture one of the criminals alive to find out more.
That could take some doing, he thought grimly. The criminals had released their dangerous dogs into the streets and then rushed out after them, apparently intent on creating as much chaos as possible to cover their getaway. They showed no compunction about civilian casualties caused by their reckless actions. Batman wasn't certain how many of the gang there were, but they were numerous.
And he saw that they wore clown-masks.
Fortunately, backup had arrived, in the form of Commissioner Gordon's men. But the situation was still precarious. The police were pinned down by gunfire, and the snarling dogs. They were outnumbered by the thugs. He had to get this under control now.
Batman ran down the street – right now his priority was the safety of the innocent people caught up in the firefight.
"Get out of the way!"
He roared at a group of hapless tourists, who stood in the middle of the street gawping, frozen, and in the line of fire. To his dismay, he saw that there were a couple of kids with them. He ran towards them, at the same time seeing the masked madmen leveling their AK-47s towards them. He knew with a sickening certainty he wouldn't be able to stop them in time.
"Dniwlrihw!"
A sudden, powerful blast of wind picked up the gunmen and sent them flying hundreds of feet, to crash through the windows of an all-night convenience store. Bruce grabbed onto a lamppost, barely avoiding the same fate, his cape whipping about him. Then, there was someone beside him. He knew who it was before he even turned around.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Batman demanded, hissing through clenched teeth.
"Helping, I hope," Zatanna replied. She sounded excited, her focus on the trashed convenience store. She wasn't dressed in her stage costume, but in a now-familiar getup of tight-fitting black pants and white corset that revealed her shoulders to generous effect. "I got here as soon as I could!"
"No, why are you here?"
She gave him an annoyed look, matching his feelings. "I'm working, remember? You ought to know since you're the one who made the duty roster!"
"Not for rapid-reaction!" Batman retorted. "You're only supposed to do monitor duty!"
He had to interrupt his scolding, since out of the corner of his eye he saw another of the masked gangbangers aiming a shoulder-fired launcher in their direction.
"Watch it!" He shouted.
"Ssim," Zatanna intoned in a low-pitched voice, just as the man pulled the trigger.
The shell whizzed past them, so close that Bruce could smell the burning chemicals. Zatanna threw up her arms and a glowing blue shield of light immediately protected them, and the cowering tourists, from the flames and shrapnel of its explosion. He could see the tension in her arms and face, willing her magick force-field to stay intact.
"Who are these people?" She managed to gasp.
Before he could reply, more shooters tumbled out of cars. Cops were trying to block them from escaping. From the gangbangers' frantic, jerking movements and their crazed laughter, Bruce knew they were on some kind of amphetamines. They sprayed bullets randomly; a policeman was hit in the leg and torso. He collapsed, motionless. He saw from Zatanna's face that she was upset and angry.
Batman saw her eyes glow a lambent white as magickal power surged through her body. He felt it in the air too, feeling the hairs on his arms rising inside his suit, and although it was a warm night in Gotham, he could suddenly see his breath. He couldn't help but watch her, spellbound…and at the same time, a strong sense of disquiet grew in him. He didn't really know her true level of power…did she even know herself? What was she capable of?
Unbidden, a recollection from his latest vivid, unwelcome dream came back to him. A familiar voice, whispering: A witch…
He pushed it out of his mind, along with his other thoughts just then. This is just Zatanna, showing off, he told himself.
Zatanna rose up into the air, her black hair streaming behind her, the cold winds picking up and sending trash bins and newspapers flying. He could hear her intoning something but couldn't make out the words over the roar of the wind. Whatever it was, he saw the remainder of the shooters freeze where they stood, shocked by the display of magickal power they were witnessing. So did the befuddled tourists. A few turned and try to run but they didn't get very far.
"Sniahc yb dnuob!"
The gangsters tumbled and collapsed all down the street, their arms and legs pinioned by the iron manacles that had seemingly come out of nowhere. Their comrades tried to aim and fire, but they dropped their guns, as if hit, although there was nothing visible that struck them. They yelped, falling to the ground writhing in pain as the preternatural bonds cocooned them, ironically crying out to the police for help. Their wish was immediately granted: more police cars careened around the corner and surrounded them.
It was over.
The magick spectacle was over as well, the light and the wind vanished as if it were never there in the first place. Zatanna sank down to her knees, looking like she'd just finished a marathon, exhausted but looking exhilarated.
Bruce turned to the tourists but it was clear they had had enough, likely both of the street violence and the supernatural display - which they found most disconcerting he couldn't say.
"That ain't right!" One of them bleated fearfully. "She ain't normal! It's...it's Satanic!"
They backed away, still looking horrified, and ran past the ambulances that were also arriving in droves, presumably straight back to their hotel rooms. He allowed a smirk to touch his lips, then gave the rubes no more thought and turned to Zatanna.
"Are you all right?"
"Of course," Zatanna breathed. "Just catching my breath. What an adrenaline rush! Do you feel that too?"
Bruce ignored her question. "You shouldn't be here." He told her again.
"Why not?" She replied, frowning. "Am I a member of the Justice League or not?"
"This is Gotham, it has nothing to do with the League."
"Well, I heard your reports from the Monitor Womb, just like everyone else did! What was I supposed to do, just hang out and do nothing?"
"Go home," Batman ordered. "There's nothing more for you to do here."
Zatanna rolled her eyes and walked over to inspect one of the unconscious goons lying in the parking lot front of the convenience store. He gritted his teeth, but he could do nothing else but follow her.
"Is it the Joker gang?" Zatanna whispered, staring down at him.
Bruce removed the clown-mask and examined the face, that of a youngish man with the marks of drug addiction on his pockmarked features. He didn't recognize the person, but it was clearly not one of the Joker's inner-circle, or even his outer one. He knew the Joker's men had stopped wearing clown masks some time ago; they would change their look depending on the whims of their boss, which were frequent and bizarre.
"I doubt it. More likely a copycat outfit."
"Some copycats!" The Flash exclaimed, startling them both with his sudden appearance between them. "Automatic rifles, grenades, rocket launchers, what the hell? Were they trying to start a war?"
"You missed all the action!" Zatanna scolded playfully. "Some Speedster you are!"
"Hey, I got here as soon as I could," Flash protested. "You see, I had another-"
"Get out of here, both of you!" Batman snapped. "I'll deal with this!"
Without waiting for a reply, he turned his back on the pair, and walked away as Commissioner Gordon's car pulled up to the scene.
"What's up with him?" Barry wondered.
"He's just being his usual Bat-self," Zatanna grumbled. But she didn't quite feel so nonchalant: she knew he had become distant this past week, preoccupied with what he hadn't deigned to tell her, and she doubted he shared his confidences with anyone else in the League. She herself had been busy with a couple of new publicity projects (including a somewhat racy photoshoot) so she hadn't had the time even to talk to him. But it irked her, nevertheless, that he hadn't spoken with her. What was up with him?
You know what it is.
"Well, guess the party's over," Flash shrugged. "Guess we'd better get out of here too, before the press comes, anyway!"
He looked at her. "But this might be a great photo opportunity for you! Zatanna the magician, helping to fight crime in Gotham!"
Zatanna grinned. "I've thought of that…but I don't think he would like it. You know how he is!"
"Don't I!" Flash laughed. "Well, I'll see you later." In a crackle of lightning he was gone.
Zatanna sighed. She was alone now, and she didn't see where Bruce had gotten off to, probably talking to the police bigwigs or something. Probably best for her to disappear like Barry said, before the police wanted to talk to her. Time to go home.
"Nruter ot tsercwodahS."
Commissioner Gordon was pleased that the dog-fighting ring had been stopped, although not so much with the chaos on his streets. Fortunately no one had been seriously injured despite the gunfire, and the young policeman who had been shot would make a full recovery, he'd been told.
"I heard that something, well, unusual, happened during all the ruckus," he said to Batman. "Light shows, tornados, and flying things knocking our criminal friends on their asses." The way he said it was a question.
"A member of the League intervened," Bruce muttered. "It won't happen again."
Bruce hoped he would drop it but nothing got past the Commissioner. "One of my men said it was the magician lady, that Ms. Zatara. So, you managed to get her to work for you after all?"
Bruce remembered that Gordon knew about Zatanna; he had told him that story of the thieves who had tried to intimidate her at her own home. That hadn't been very smart of them.
"Not for me, exactly," He replied evasively. He didn't want to reveal how much Zatanna was involved, and even less how he'd become personally involved with her. He considered Gordon a friend, but even so...
"She works...she is a volunteer with the Justice League, as I said. She got a little…overenthusiastic."
Gordon looked at him sideways, as if not quite believing his semi-truth, but he only replied, "Well, whatever arrangement you two have worked out, it seems to have helped stop this gang," Gordon shrugged, and fortunately he changed the subject. "Anyway, there was something else I believed that you wanted to talk to me about."
Batman nodded, relieved. "Yes, there is. I need access to certain files."
"Really? I thought you could get that with your, um, considerable computer hacking abilities."
"Perhaps, but I don't want to waste time, and I don't think these were ever digitized," Bruce replied impatiently. "I'd much prefer your cooperation in this matter."
"May I ask what it is about?" Gordon unwrapped another toffee and popped it into his mouth, his current cure for his smoking habit.
"The Joker," he replied bluntly. "I know who he is."
Gordon's toffee, wrapper and all, dropped from his hand and mouth to the asphalt ground.
Shadowcrest
Home was Zatanna's strongest and best sanctuary, a magickal fortress that no person could breach; there were safeguards over every inch of its edifice. No one could enter without her permission and knowledge. Others had tested it and wished they had not. Therefore, it was rather annoying to have unexpected visitors.
Tonight, though, when she arrived home there was nothing was amiss. She lived alone, save for her animal companions (she did not call them her 'familiars'). They were always happy to see her. After that toss-up in Gotham City, she thought she'd take a relaxing bath first. Dinner was already ready but she decided eat later, when she was refreshed.
Zatanna went straight to her luxuriously appointed bathroom, full of light and gold and white marble. She stripped off her dusty onyx pants and top, pulled off her boots and underclothes, and sank naked into the sunken bath. Sizzling bath bombs were deployed; the warm water was scented with orange peel and mint. It felt wonderfully relaxing. Her body was still thrumming from the adrenalin from the action, not an entirely unpleasant feeling in itself. Even better was the feeling that she had done something to help stop some of the crime in Gotham. It might be a drop in the bucket in that place, but it had to be something. She felt her father would be approving, although she also sensed he would hate how she put herself in danger. However, he'd always been somewhat overprotective when it came to his only child and daughter - he was an Italian father after all.
The memory of that day at the orphanage came to her then. Her father's face when he told her about Bruce...how could he have known? And what he had said...
It was nothing, she told herself firmly. Most of what he saw in his visions came to nothing, anyway.
She scooped up the sudsy water and gently splashed her face. She felt very confident, despite a few moments back there when she thought that the gangbangers may have had the upper hand. For a long time, she had been unsure of whether she could really control the powers bequeathed to her by her father and their homo magii ancestors. Yet this was what she really wanted to do, felt that she could do, maybe even very well, given the opportunity. She didn't think she would ever give up performing, she loved it too much, but surely she could find a balance. She knew other members of the Justice League had 'real' jobs, like the Flash, and even Superman. Her old fart of a boyfriend would just have to get used to her doing this job, and if he didn't like it he could just-
"So it's 'boyfriend' now, is he?"
"Fuselli!" Zatanna sputtered. "What the hell-!"
At the opposite end of the sizable bath was the nightmare imp, up to his chin in the water, enjoying the soak, a crown of foamy suds resting comically atop his head. He most certainly had not been there a second ago. He looked quite at his ease clearly not caring what she thought of his suddenly showing up in her bathtub. Zatanna wondered - not for the first time - how he kept getting past her magickal safeguards. But he was a supernatural creature, after all.
Fuselli said casually. "You know I can read minds. Yours, especially, it's so easy, the way you broadcast your thoughts."
Irritated, not least because he was right, Zatanna decided not to let the imp get to her.
"What's wrong with the bathtub in your house?" She demanded.
"Oh, nothing at all, but it's boring there. I thought I'd drop in and say hello."
Zatanna knew damn well that creatures such as Fuselli - and Fuselli in particular - never did anything out of sheer friendship, or just 'dropped in to say hello.' He never came to see her – willingly - unless it was to get something from her, or create some mischief, or both. He had a nagging and unpleasant habit of getting involved in her business. He also had the worst habit of showing up in the most awkward times and places, like now.
"Well now you've said hello," Zatanna abruptly stood up and climbed out of her bath. "What else do you want?"
"I saw you on tonight's news. Or, rather, I saw you live on the scene. Quite exciting. So now you're helping Batman take down the bad guys in Gotham?"
Zatanna spoke a word and a towel wrapped itself around her. "You…saw me in Gotham?"
"Don't worry, I stayed well away from the action," Fuselli assured her. "Don't look like that, I wasn't spying on you, I was coming to see you anyway. It was a spectacular show! You were quite amazing, I must admit."
"Well…it wasn't for the sake of publicity," Zatanna muttered, reluctant to accept praise from the nightmare imp. "That gang needed to be taken down, you know what they were up to?"
"I'm sure they were quite awful, yes," Fuselli agreed. "You performed a wonderful public service. Maybe the mayor of Gotham City will give you a medal. However, I really wanted to see you on another matter."
Zatanna sighed. The best way to get rid of him was just to hear him out, perhaps.
"Did Madame Xanadu send you? I told her that there was nothing wrong."
"You can't blame her for being worried – she's more attuned than you know, to the currents surrounding us."
"What are you talking about?"
"Can you really tell me you haven't noticed something off lately, about your latest boyfriend?"
She frowned. "Didn't I tell you to stay out of my personal life? Bruce Wayne is nothing to do with you, I've told you."
"Damn it, Zatanna, this isn't just a matter of your sex life!" Fuselli snapped, startling her with his vehemence. "This is about forces that endanger all of us, and I don't just mean the precious homo magii. Tell me, just tell me you don't suspect your boyfriend isn't mucking about with the forces of the Outer Darkness."
She stared at him. This wasn't like Fuselli. He seemed genuinely upset and also…she had been having worries of her own.
"What do you know?" She whispered.
"I…well, I don't know much," Fuselli admitted awkwardly. "But I still cannot enter that man's dreams. The force that is blocking me is stronger than ever, but I am still trying. But there is one thing I do know for certain."
Zatanna folded her arms. "What is that?"
Fuselli replied, quite quietly. "Bruce Wayne has acquired the Necronomicon."
For a heartbeat, which felt like to last years, Zatanna couldn't speak. She stared at the nightmare imp with disbelief.
"No…no, that's not possible. I would know if he was using something that powerful."
"Well...I don't believe he's used it, exactly. But that doesn't mean he won't try. Actually, it's a given he will, and we both know what happens to people who try."
Zatanna shook her head, in denial. "No, that's not. He won't, he can't," she insisted. "He…how would he even know how to read it…wait…"
Fuselli stared at her. "What is it?"
Zatanna's mind raced back to the time of the raid on Dr. Fenderbrake's house, when Bruce had spoken to that stupid doctor. In the weeks that had passed she hadn't heard him use those words again, but….
"When…when we tried to apprehend that A.R.G.U.S. doctor," She said slowly. She sat down on a chair, her brow furrowed.
"What is it?"
"He…I heard Bruce speaking Aklo."
"What?" Fuselli was truly stunned, she could tell. She bit her lip, feeling a twinge of guilt. But she was under no obligation to tell him anything, after all. "What did he do, exactly?"
Zatanna explained about the raid. "What exactly did he say?" Fuselli demanded.
"I'm...not sure, but he challenged the doctor, somehow, just to show he knew where he was coming from."
"Nine fucking hells, Zatanna!" Fuselli sputtered, sending up a cloud of suds. "You knew that Wayne could…do you know what damage he can do?"
"But he hasn't," Zatanna insisted. "I would know. Something like that."
"You've spent every night over at Wayne Manor then?" Fuselli asked mockingly."Spending hours with him, doing what you do best?"
She glared at him. But it was true. She hadn't seen him in the past week but that was Bruce. She hadn't expected him to change, not even for her.
"No," she murmured. "I haven't seen him. I don't know what he's got up to. But how-how do you know this?"
Fuselli saw her genuinely upset. He continued in a calmer tone. "You know Madame Xanadu and Baron Winters have their own agents, seeking out the grimoires and tomes that could cause trouble in the wrong hands. Two days ago, they learned that a certain bookseller had been approached by a person almost certainly your Bat-friend. Wearing a costume with pointy ears. The bookseller had once had in his grimy little hands a copy of the Necronomicon."
"Once had?"
"This bookseller provided the book to a third party before Winters' agents were able to get to it. It seems that somehow your boyfriend learned about this bookseller and essentially browbeat him into revealing to whom he sold it to."
"So then you don't know if he has it!" Zatanna said. "Why couldn't you find out from this guy who he sold it to? Then you would know for sure if-"
"Well, that's no longer an option," Fuselli replied darkly. "The bookseller subsequently decided to take a dive off a high bridge into Gotham Bay, and no, Winters' agents had nothing to do with it. Just part of the bad luck that accompanies civilians who meddle in things they shouldn't." He added.
"Bruce is not meddling," Zatanna insisted. "I can't believe that."
"Anyone who can use the Aklo words, will not hesitate to use them. You know that as well as I do. If you do not do anything, then I am afraid Xanadu and Baron Winters will. The stakes are too high." Fuselli added ominously.
Zatanna said nothing, her face clouded. Fuselli expected her to threaten him again, but her silence was something else, unexpected. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
"You...will do something?"
Zatanna finally nodded.
"What?"
She stood up, wordlessly walked to stand in front of a shelf where several unmarked, colorful vials rested. Fuselli watched her quizzically. She stared at them, thoughtfully. It was not often she used them, but they were always here...just in case.
It might now be a 'just-in-case' moment.
"I don't know." She finally said.
Batcave
Following his meeting with Commissioner Gordon, Bruce returned to his sanctuary. He'd done enough for one night, it was now time to take stock of what he had learned.
As usual, Alfred met him in the vast chamber where he usually did his work, or 'brooded', according to the butler, and also believed by most of his closest associates.
"Welcome back, Master Bruce," Alfred greeted him as he typically did. "I trust your mission went well?"
"You didn't see it on TV?"
"Indeed I did. I thought I caught a glimpse of Miss Zatara also, though I might be mistaken, the footage was not exactly of the best quality. Gotham's news crews are not quite the caliber of those from Metropolis. I trust the young lady is well?"
"She's fine," Bruce grunted. He looked at the butler. "Is she upstairs?"
"No, she did not return here. I don't believe she has been here all day."
Bruce did not reply, and sat before his workstations. "I could ring her, if you'd like." Alfred suggested.
"No…I'm sure she wants to be alone."
"Very well," Alfred replied when it became clear Bruce was not about to say anything else. He thought about asking him exactly how he knew Zatanna wanted to be alone, but instead asked, "May I fetch your supper? It can be reheated."
"No, thank you. I'm going to work here for a few more hours."
Alfred nodded. A 'few more hours' could last the rest of the night, and into the morning hours, he knew from experience. He left Bruce alone as he wanted.
Bruce had been about to ask Alfred if he could call Zatanna, to make sure she had gotten home safely, but he realized how ridiculous that sounded. Alfred of course would tell him to simply call her himself - and he should. Yet, something made him unwilling to do so. Of course he knew that she could take care of herself - he had witnessed that adequately tonight. Still, he felt a longing to hear her voice. She had gotten inside of him in a way that the others hadn't, and at first the sensation had been quite new and exhilarating. Then, he had begun pulling back. He spent more time at Wayne HQ, more time on the streets. Zatanna apparently hadn't noticed, being busy herself with her work.
But it wasn't just work. After he had acquired the...book, he realized he wasn't ready to share what he had learned with her, though of course her contribution could be inestimable. He wasn't ready to share it with anyone. He wasn't even quite sure exactly what he had learned. Also, he didn't believe she would quite approve of what he had done.
Then…there was the matter of the Joker.
He'd not been totally truthful with the Commissioner. He had said he didn't believe this was a Joker operation, and the Commissioner had agreed, but, somehow, he felt that this was a feint by the Joker, something to draw him out. The Joker must have known he'd not been busy in Gotham ever since…since his research started. Whatever the man was, he was also curious. He would want to know why Batman had not been as busy. Joker was still out there, somewhere, waiting. Now he would know Zatanna was involved with the Batman, and he was not exactly thrilled by that development.
But now, after what he had uncovered, he wasn't quite sure what to do next.
His mind drifted back to his confrontation with Mr. Baldwin at his office. When the man had told him he knew the identity of the Joker, his first reaction was disbelief. He had received hundreds, if not thousands of tips on the 'true' identity of the Joker, some from the GCPD, some from informants, some from the public, and every last one had been a bust. No one knew who he was.
But then Baldwin had handed him a file, a personnel file folder as might be found in any corporation's Human Resource department, including his. He had taken it, and opened it right there.
Within the slender folder, on top was a single page, a profile. He stared at the photograph therein, and he had felt...something. He couldn't explain it then, and now, sitting alone in the vastness of his Batcave, he still wasn't sure what it was.
"Who is this man?"
"Jack Napier. He was an employee here. Or, more accurately, he was an 'independent contractor'. I admit he wasn't the type we typically hire: he didn't have any academic degrees, but he was very well-educated, very intelligent. I imagine he was self-taught."
"How do you know?"
"We do a background check on all our employees, the standards for a drug-free workplace as ours is," Baldwin coughed delicately. "He didn't have a criminal record, or any unusual or 'sketchy' history for that matter, but he did have what you might call 'street smarts.' He had a way of finding things, tracking things down. He'd managed to recover certain items for us that were looted from the Iraq during the war. Some of those are on display at our various sister institutions, until the situation overseas is more stable. He had a certain, ah, ability to avoid problems."
Bruce stared hard at the photo, barely hearing Baldwin as he explained the organization's mission of recovering stolen antiquities looted in the recent wars. He was looking at the head shot of a dark-haired, shyly smiling young man, handsome in a way that would attract women with kind hearts. There was nothing unusual about this photo, but there was something about the set of the man's jaw, his cheekbones...yes, there was a similarity.
It could be...it could be possible.
"Does he have any family?" He'd asked.
Baldwin shook his head. "I know he was married."
Bruce started. "Married?" He repeated
"Yes. I think her name was Jeannie. I never met her. I'm not sure if there is any other family."
"What happened to him? I presume he is no longer working for you."
"I'm afraid he disappeared while he was overseas, looking for artifacts looted from the Afghan National Museum in the Northwest Frontier. We had warned him that it was more dangerous than Iraq, but he believed he would be all right. He was very confident, said he had traveled in India before. He kept in regular contact with us, until when we believed he crossed the Pakistani border, then for months, nothing. No ransom requests, no assassination videos, nothing like that. He was just gone. We did attempt to contact his wife, I mean, after he failed to return, to offer some support, but she was no longer at the address he'd provided in his employment file, and her phone was disconnected. There was a rumor that she had committed suicide, or at least that's what our HR people believed, but we were never certain. No one ever contacted us, after his disappearance."
"Did you ever meet him?"
"Of course. He seemed to be an ordinary young man, very passionate, certain of himself, very pleasant. Nothing that would suggest...except for his body language, the way he moved, walked," Baldwin frowned. "But when I saw him on the news - I mean, the Joker - when he took that TV crew hostage...I began to suspect."
Batman stared at him. "Why didn't you go to the police? That was years ago."
"I did!" Baldwin insisted. "I contacted the Gotham City police myself, as I didn't share my suspicions with anyone else. Unfortunately, no one took me seriously, even though I tried several times. I began to think that they were deliberately ignoring what I was telling them, and knowing what happens to some of your citizens who have tried to help the police...there was even one cop who made a rather racist slur towards me when I persisted."
Baldwin gave a helpless shrug. "I am sorry...I am not as brave as you. So I stopped trying. I guess I should have tried harder but...if I was wrong...I have heard what happens to people who crossed the Joker."
It seemed that Baldwin was telling him the truth, or at least he exhibited none of the tell-tale signs that he was deliberately lying or misleading him. As he had stood there in the man's bland office suite, holding the book and the folder, Bruce had suddenly felt an urge to be gone and alone with his acquisitions. He hardly remembered what he said next, only that Baldwin seemed to be relieved to have given him the information on Napier. He hardly seemed to mind losing the book that he had paid thousands of dollars for, and that told Bruce that money was likely very inconsequential to him. He had returned to the Batcave, and promptly secured both items in a temperature-controlled safe. He felt he wanted to be in a...proper state of mind when examining both items.
It hadn't occurred to Bruce until after he'd returned home that he hadn't asked Baldwin what this Napier had been searching for.
[A/N: Well, many apologies for the late delay in submitting chapters! Real life intervenes. Hope everyone enjoyed the new WW movie as much as I did! And the next chapter will be WW-centric. thanks for reading! and please review as always!]