It goes without saying that I do not own the characters used within (something which I'm sure we're all grateful for.)
Unlikely Detectives
3 - Role Playing
Karen hated hospitals, and for every common reason there was. If she had ever had a medical issue, she went straight to Doctor Midnight for approval. After all – the only thing that a general practitioner would learn was that she was tougher than any injection they tried to give to her. So, when it came to hospitals, she was always a visitor. Worried about a friend in dire health, walking along too-bright hallways, and forever trying to tune out the sights and sounds and smells around her.
She wrinkled her nose as the scent of antiseptic made her ill. Somewhere around the corner, she heard a family weeping as they said goodbye to a relative. She even listened to the weak heartbeat in the bed, growing slower and slower, inching towards its final pulse. It was the human condition - something Power Girl couldn't stop, and supposedly shouldn't understand.
"Miss Starr?" She sat up as a nurse peeked out from behind a window. "You can come through, now." A buzzer rang before a door opened beside her. Karen picked up a bunch of flowers she brought and smoothed her jeans, walking through the ward's doors. She wasn't dressed for work yet. She didn't want to draw attention to an easily-recognised tech company CEO. But mostly she didn't want to be visiting Charlotte as a boss, either.
"Miss Starr, I presume?" A new nurse greeted Karen as the door closed behind her. Shorter and older, with more creases around her eyes than her uniform. "Miss Stein is past the worst of it. She'll be in a cast and need a wheelchair until the bones in her legs mend, however. As her employer, would we be able to get some insurance information for her in the near future?"
"Money won't be an issue," she said at once. "But can I see her, please?"
"Of course." The nurse took her arm and led her down the hallway with a smile. All while Karen tried to block out the noises of chatting staff once again, the beeping of machines and, a wing away, the doctor declaring the time of death for someone beyond all help.
Finally, she was steered into a private room, where she thanked the nurse and took a short breath. As the door shut behind her, Karen tilted her glasses down and looked through the privacy curtain with her x-ray vision. The figure in the bed on the other side was in one piece, thank Rao, but the fractures and splints were still glaring back at her. She frowned as she spied a plate with several pins in the poor girl's shoulder, knowing it would leave a scar. Not to mention the permanent discomfort in the future.
Unseen at her side, Karen made a fist. She couldn't have helped Charlotte more than she did when she first found her, but she'd make damn sure to repay the kindness when she got her hands on the punks responsible. She wasn't as sweet as Supergirl, and she wasn't above breaking a few limbs, either.
"Is someone there…?"
Karen came back to her senses, stepping around the curtain and smiling widely. 'Oh, Charlotte…' The young secretary sounded weak, and she looked it, too. Bruises and swelling littered her skin, which looked paler than usual. But despite the general air of weariness, she still had a smile on her face. "Hey, there," she said, stepping out from behind the curtain and lifting the flowers. "How are you holding up?" Charlotte's eyes – one much puffier than the other – seemed to light up.
"Oh, Miss Starr! You wouldn't believe what happened!" Karen set the flowers down in a small bedside vase, giving them a little arrangement before leaving them be.
"I know what happened," she said, sitting down on a nearby stool. "And I promise you; we're going to find out who's responsible. By the time you're okay to come home, someone will be very sorry." Oh, she'll make damn sure of it…
"No, not that. I was rescued by Power Girl!" Karen felt her eyebrows quirk upwards from how excited Charlotte suddenly seemed. "The doctors tell me she flew down the side of the building with me, even. Oh! But, did she find you…? I told her you were in danger, and-"
"Relax, it's fine." Karen placed a gentle hand on the girl's arm, debating for a moment whether to reveal how involved her alter ego was. "Yeah, she uh, found me in the end. I think. I went to bed early last night and woke up to a note outside my window. Maybe that was her?"
"I guess. Oh, but tell me! How was the date?"
Karen blinked. She hadn't even thought about Franklin in the last few hours, and that said something. As a rule, Power Girl could act and think almost as fast as any of the Flash family. She didn't even need to worry about sleep, most of the time. But she'd been nothing but a flurry of activity ever since the bombing the night before.
"You said you were in bed early," Charlotte mumbled, suddenly much more bashful. "Was it a good date…?"
"Ah! Well, it… was okay? But nothing like that happened!" Rao, she thought. That fast on the first date…? Kids these days really did think the rich and successful lead decadent lives. She wasn't that kind of girl, though!
Heck – she couldn't remember the last time she shared a bed with anybody. Nobody who's performance was worth remembering, anyway...
"So!" Karen cleared her throat, determined to steer things away from her love life – and lack thereof. "Charlotte, what happened is… it's terrible," she said honestly. "It's unfair. But I don't want you to worry. As long as I have a say in the matter, our insurance will cover every one of your medical bills, and if you need help afterwards or extra attention, you'll have it." She chewed on her lip, aware that the financial cost was heartwrenching for most people. But it didn't make her feel any better.
"Charlotte, I'm so sorry for what's happened to you."
"It's okay," the younger woman hummed, and she seemed so serene that Karen almost believed it. But she was clever enough to recognise the molecules of morphine being fed through Charlotte's intravenous drip to know better. "But Miss Starr…? What about you? The box I took up to your office was meant for you. Aren't you in danger…?"
"Don't you worry about me," Karen smiled, pinching a lock of artificial hair and waving it. "I'm tougher than I look. Redhead, remember? Besides – I'm having a friend from out of town visit. He's a bit of a security expert."
"Really…?" Charlotte's eyebrows rose. She was curious, Karen could tell, but she also recognised the signs of fatigue setting in. The painkillers were starting to take their toll on her. But before she fell asleep again, she wanted to put the young secretary's mind to rest.
"Don't you stress. I hear Power Girl think's you're very brave and is going to be looking out for you in the future."
"Oh, Miss Starr," she giggled, her eyelids starting to droop. Her words began to slurr. She was losing the fight to stay awake. "Don't be silly. Hero's like her have bigger things to worry about..."
Charlotte's head sank into the pillow as her breathing became even, just as Karen felt her phone began to pulse in her pocket. She pulled it out just enough to glance at the glass: a call from Franklin that she just didn't want to deal with just yet. Not when she had to prepare for the media sharks circling outside her bombed building.
"Kid, you don't know the half of it."
Batman only came out when the sun had set, and the moon began it climb into the sky. He spent most of his career in the shadows, where even hardened gang members who faced him under street lamps struggled to catch a good look at him. He often overheard petty thugs talking like he was some winged demon with fangs and claws, utterly unaware that he was perching on a stone guardian above them.
But the cape and cowl did not define him. Batman did not rest because the sun was out, and a black creature seen swinging between buildings would make him easy to track. He merely changed his attire and methods. Bruce Wayne was often a disguise for him – wealthy and playful, and the last person anyone would suspect of being a costumed vigilante. But when Batman needed to infiltrate an area undercover, he did precisely that. More than one personae existed in his work closet, ready with a full background history for when the need arose.
Presently, with a filthy cap and flannels, Bruce Wayne quietly climbed the last staircase of the apartment building opposite Starrware. At least half the units were empty from what he could tell, and the floor below didn't have a soul staying there. It would be simple enough to attain a list of residents, but he could imagine just how many of them worked across the road for Karen Starr. And even then, there was no guarantee of finding results.
He, a stranger, had been able to walk in while whistling a jaunty tune. Nobody manned the lobby, and the tumbler pins in the doors wouldn't pose much of a challenge to anyone with a lockpick and some practice.
He came to the apartment that Power Girl had identified, withdrawing a simple tool from his pocket, and jiggling the pins. In no time he was granted access and Batman slipped inside. A long-forgotten apartment greeted him. Motes of dust flitted in the air near the splintered window, popped open from Karen's entrance hours before.
"I'm in, Penny One."
Across the river and underground, cradling a cup of coffee and monitoring the activity on the Batcomputer, Alfred checked the security camera that had been hacked into and nodded. "And alone, sir. No soul has even gone near the staircase. I've been able to find a backdoor into the lodging's records, and it appears nobody has leased a room on the top three floors for almost a year."
"I wouldn't expect a bomber to pull the trigger in their own house, Alfred," Bruce murmured. He withdrew another surveillance tool and adhered it above the door. A motion detector shaped like a small bat, and the second he had installed on the top floor alone. "How are the signals looking?"
"As clear as one would expect, Master Bruce." Alfred's voice came clearly through the earpiece he wore, but Batman didn't use technology that was available to anyone – even if they worked on a production line for Karen Starr. Whatever other electronics their target had cobbled together would meet their match in his arsenal. "I've gone over the profiles for the blast-proof windows and the foundations for Miss Starr's office. A cellular signal would be able to just reach her desk from your current whereabouts, or from the north. Any other compass directions would reach the main floor instead of the office."
"So instead of Karen Starr, the staff on her floor are caught in the explosion. And the building north of her office isn't tall enough to reach this level," Bruce said, more to himself.
"Quite right, sir. It seems for this design of trigger, that apartment is the only feasible location. Is there any hope of gleaning any information while you're there?"
"Doubtful. The floor is carpeted, and the door knob's been cleaned on both sides." Much like the relay itself, he didn't expect to find any definite fingerprints. But the apartment itself would serve as a natural trap. Bruce bent low and picked up the wooden boards, carrying them to the window and removing a can of sealant.
"I'm going to cover Power Girl's entrance," he said, trusting Alfred to keep along with each step.
"Wise choice, sir. If our 'mad bomber' does indeed work for Miss Starr, it would only take a glance out the window to see that their site had been disturbed."
"Hopefully they'll feel the need to come and check on their work once she makes her speech." Experimental glue sprayed from the can, turning to foam and sticking the splintered wood back over the window. "For now, I'm leaving behind a number of motion sensors. If anyone steps foot on this floor, we'll be the first to know."
"Right you are, sir," Alfred answered. Bruce tucked the spray away and returned to the door, locking it before shutting it behind him.
"Go ahead and light up the Batscanners, Penny One." Inside the apartment, and above the staircases, both devices flashed once and began to work.
"We are live, Master Bruce."
Bruce Wayne, unassuming, scruffy civilian, began the journey back down four flights of stairs, where he would catch the elevator on a populated floor down to the lobby. Afterwards, it would be a quick shave and change of clothes before it was off to the next appointment, disguised as a charitable, but barely-sober, playboy billionaire.
Karen adjusted her long red wig one more time, going over the words in her mind that she prepared for the address. She let out a puff of breath before approaching the small podium that had been erected outside Starrware for the press conference. She already recognised a few of the faces in the crowd – Ryder from Gotham, Olsen from Metropolis, a handful from New York proper. But she could already hear them murmuring amongst themselves, wondering how the ordinarily media-savvy Karen Starr would handle this crisis.
Well, let them see, she thought.
"What's happened here last night is a tragedy, plain and simple," she began as she took to the stage. "I do not believe this was an accident. Only that the poor woman involved, Miss Charlotte Stein, was not the intended target of this attack. But make no mistake – whoever is responsible for this grievance will be brought into the light and judged for their actions."
With as many broken bones as Charlotte suffered, she mentally added. Behind her, inside her own building, she was able to hear comments from her staff about how she was handling the situation. And the idea that one of them was responsible left her struggling not to break the wooden podium beneath her.
"Miss Starr!" A reporter near the front waved a recording device in the air, aiming it towards her as he tried to yell over the city noises around them. "Is Miss Stein's life still in danger?"
"I've visited Miss Stein this morning, and doctors assure me she's on the road to recovery," Karen answered. A throng of arms once again went up, and she pointed towards a reporter with their notebook raised high. "Yes, you?"
"Do you agree with the police that this is a case of domestic terrorism, or do you believe that there's another motive behind this attack?"
She frowned, making a mental note to remember who this one was for future reference. A reporter who asked articulate questions like that were usually the ones who found creative ways to take things out of context. "I'm not an expert in these matters," she deflected. "I don't pretend to be. I'll defer to the investigators, and whatever answer they're confident in giving. Anyone else?"
"Karen!" Jack Ryder's voice was louder than he had a right to be, and she tried not to grimace. "Has Starrware taken on any extra security during this investigation?"
"Rest assured – I'm keeping that information private," she answered coolly. "Everyone, thank you for your time." She ignored the calls for attention as she stepped down and hopped the few steps into her lobby. The glass doors slid shut behind her and muffled most of the noise. But if she thought she was safe from having her mood soured even more, she was unpleasantly surprised. Agent Leland came up beside her from seemingly nowhere. Her shadow from the government. The man hung around like a bad smell, sometimes.
"I hope you remember that you need to be transparent about any additional staff you hire, Miss Starr," he muttered, falling into step behind her. Annoyingly, he was able to keep pace with her, too, and did so flawlessly. But Karen was in no mood for his "gentle reminders," and was entirely too close to telling him just what she thought of him.
"I believe you'll find I'm only obligated to tell you about Starrware's affairs, Agent," she reminded him. "And if I were to call on a third party for assistance or advice, it's my damned business."
"If you're going to be inviting consultants into this building, while it's a crime scene no less, you're going to have to satisfy me that they're not a threat, first."
Karen narrowed her eyes. She wanted to put him in his place for a long time. Now, she just wanted to push him and send him flying out through the double doors. But "escorting" Agent Leland from her building would only give her a headache, and she knew it.
"Don't worry," she said stiffly. "I promise you you're perfectly safe, Agent. You're not his type."
"That sounds familiar." The familiar timbre of Bruce's voice seemed to appear from nowhere, materialising just as Leland had done. But this time Karen caught herself smiling. The first welcome face she'd seen since leaving the hospital, even if she knew that this was "the mask." The friendly, carefree, too-cool look was Bruce Wayne - Batman's Oscar-worthy disguise.
"Agent Leland," she began, gesturing to the newly arrived character. "My security consultant and personal friend. I trust I don't need to introduce him?"
"Oh, I'm more than happy to introduce myself," Bruce gushed, transferring a takeaway coffee cup to his other hand before offering his right to shake. "Bruce Wayne – stunningly handsome. And Karen's right- you're not my type. But can I interest you in an Irish coffee?" He wagged his eyebrows and raised his cup with a playful smile.
"It's not even nine in the morning," Leland replied drily. Bruce shrugged.
"It's five o'clock somewhere," he remarked, swallowing what Karen was sure was just plain coffee.
"With all respect, Mister Wayne – what would you possibly know about security?" Leland asked, crossing his arms and looking as unimpressed with Bruce as Karen was with Leland. Bruce hummed and noisily swallowed the last of his coffee.
"Well, Mister Lionel – "
"Leland."
"Oh, I was so close," he smirked. "Ever since Wayne Enterprises publicly funded Batman Inc., we've had a huge Bat symbol in our main lobby. In Gotham City, that makes us a target by some of our… let's say, colourful citizens. And yet, we've managed to avoid disaster."
"I wonder if perhaps you're ever sober enough to notice, Mister Wayne," the agent remarked. Bruce barked with laughter, but Karen had had enough.
"I'll remind you that Bruce here is my friend and guest, Agent," she snapped. "You're a liaison with my company, not myself. On the morning after we've been bombed, maybe you'd care to see how the rest of my staff are holding up…?"
Agent Leland said nothing but favoured them both with a disgruntled look before departing. After all – she was right, and they all knew it. Regardless of the public profile she had, her social circle was nobody's business.
"I see you've managed to keep yourself in check around your man from Washington," Bruce whispered behind his cup, pretending to have another sip of "Irish coffee" as she turned and led them both to the elevator banks.
"You're right – I don't have to pretend to be a drunk playboy. I can just drag you over here to annoy him." She hailed the lift and gave the disguised Batman a sideways look. "Nice performance, by the way."
"Only the first one is free – in the future, you couldn't afford me. And you're welcome." The elevator arrived, and the pair slipped inside. Unseen by anyone, Karen subtly studied the master detective. She heard his heartbeat thump a little quicker. Noticed the tiniest expansion in his chest. For a man who lived on coffee and some mild painkillers, she didn't think it had anything to do with his empty cup.
"Nice try," she remarked. "You enjoyed yourself, just now."
"Look who's talking." But she smiled as the doors slid shut. Bruce Wayne didn't need to be the world's greatest detective to know that she enjoyed every ounce of frustration on Leland's face.