BREAKING NEWS
"A shocking development in the Wayne/Fairchild Murder Trial is taking place this morning!" Jerri Prudence announced. "Bruce Wayne is being released from prison today, the result of a twist no one saw coming!
"According to sources in the GCPD, a woman surrendered herself to police, claiming responsibility for the murder of Vesper Fairchild. She was arrested shortly after presenting details of the case to the police that required them to examine her claim closer.
"Now, I for one find this highly suspect. This entire time, we have damning evidence that Bruce Wayne was Vesper's murderer. Now, out of the blue, we have this mystery woman claiming she did it? It sounds just like someone taking the fall for Wayne, if you ask me. It would be very interesting to see if there is a connection between Wayne and this woman.
"As of right now, the police aren't releasing any details as to the woman's identity while they confirm her story. We here at WGKX are working diligently to discover the identity of this alleged killer. Chances are, this is just someone seeking to gain fame for themselves, though they are going about it in a very sick and depraved way.
"We will update you on this story as we—"
Jerri Prudence paused. Suddenly, another BREAKING NEWS banner appeared on screen. "This just in, Bruce Wayne is leaving Blackgate prison. We have just received word that his release is imminent. We'll be taking you live with our man in the field: Summer Gleason. Summer?"
The flashing of cameras was almost blinding. If there was one thing Bruce didn't miss, it was the constant camera flashes as his picture was taken a hundred times a seconds. No, that wasn't an exaggeration.
At his side was Cassandra, one arm wrapped around her shoulders. She had been there ever since she and her entourage pulled up to Blackgate and stormed the building. Bruce had found himself being removed from his cell, taken to a room where his clothes and belongings were returned, and given a chance to get dressed in the last suit he wore for his arraignment. He barely had his sports jacket on when the door flung open and Cassandra marched him, hugging him tightly.
In front of Bruce was Damian, dressed much like a mini him. His presence was surprising—even more astonishing that he had come with Cassandra and they weren't bickering. It was clear he had planned his appearance as he wore the exact same suit he wore, right down to the color. The only difference was that the boy had his dark hair slicked back with hair gel. He positioned himself right in front of the billionaire, to which he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.
Lucius Fox was nearby, a smile on his face. It was good to see his old friend's face, telling him this wasn't some fanciful dream. Off to his left and addressing the large crowd of reporters was Rae Green, dressed to the nines. It had been agreed she would handle the press and she was more than holding her own.
"Today is a great day for the justice system," his lawyer proclaimed. "Today, an innocent man, wrongfully arrested and imprisoned, is returned his freedom. The odds were stacked against him from the get-go, but as time and the evidence has shown, he is innocent."
The reporters fired questions at Green, who didn't even bother answering them. She just let them wash over her before she held up her hands for silence. It took awhile because these were reporters after all; they needed to get their questions out in the open, picked up by their audio equipment for the world to hear. "At this time, Mr. Wayne is declining to comment on his wrongful incarceration. He will be instructing myself, or Wayne Enterprises, when he is ready and willing to address this controversy. At this time, we ask that you respect his family's privacy as he returns to his normal life."
Normal? Heh. As if he had led a normal life.
A few Blackgate guards appeared, forcing their way through the crowd of reporters as they made a path through them. After waiting a couple seconds, Bruce, his kids, and Lucius began walking down the path, a splitting of the sea of reporters.
The path led right up to a limousine, where a chauffeur opened the back passenger door. The entire time, reporters were firing questions at him, asking about his feelings, how it was to be in Blackgate, and so on. Bruce ignored them as he and the important people in his life closed in on the limo. Behind him, he heard Rae Green saying she would be taking a few questions, an attempt to draw the mob's attention back to her and away from him.
It was as he reached the limo's opened door, Damian hopping in, followed by Cassandra, that he heard someone call out, "Please, Mr. Wayne, talk to us! The people have a right to know!"
That gave the billionaire pause. With one hand on top of the car door, he turned to face the person he assumed said that, though it was difficult to tell since there was a minimum of six microphones being shoved towards his face in any which direction he looked.
Except for one noticeable spot.
"Ms. Lane! Mr. Kent!" Bruce exclaimed as he took a step towards the two reporters. He held out a hand towards them, Kent accepting his handshake with one of his own, followed by Lois doing the same. He had to resist kissing the back of her hand as this really wasn't the time or place for it.
"Welcome back, Mr. Wayne," he heard Kent greet him, no hint of malice at all in his voice. It was perhaps the most genuine words he had heard in a long time, or so it felt.
"It's good to be back," he returned before a smile appeared on his face. "Once I get settled in, the Daily Planet is my first call—" at this he purposefully raised his voice, "—for my exclusive interview!" Behind the two Metropolis reporters, he could see outrage on the members of the Gotham press he recognized. He couldn't help but add a final jab, "You're the only ones I can trust to do a proper interview after all."
"We await that call, Mr. Wayne," Lois responded, a smirk on her face. Backing away, Bruce turned back to the limo, seeing the last of Lucius climbing in. He then took his turn to get in, the door closing behind him.
"Was that really necessary Bruce?" Lucuis asked as he sat in one of the side seats. Bruce took his own on the back seat, Cassandra on one side, Damian on the other. There was mirth in the older man's voice, however, indicating he wasn't too upset.
"Considering just about everyone in that crowd called me a murderer, I think so," the dark-haired man replied. He leaned back in his seat, his arms lying on top of the headrests. His two kids took that opportunity to lean against him. Faintly, he wondered how long this was going to last. He wasn't a touchy-feely person by nature, and he really didn't want to have to extricate either kid since it would probably take some force.
The driver's door opened and the chauffeur climbed into the driver's seat. The engine revved to life before the limo began rolling forward. "So tell me, Bruce: how does it feel to be a free man again?" Lucius asked him.
"Like I need to take a hot shower."
"Heh, I didn't want to say anything, but you are smelling a little ripe."
"I forgot my soap on a rope too many times."
"What's a soap of a rope?" Domain questioned him.
Bruce glanced at the boy, seeing a serious look on his face. He seemed to be penetrating him with his blue eyes—it was actually a little off putting, he had to admit. "Nothing you need to know about," he quickly told his son.
"Is it a reference to prison sex?"
A frown appeared on Bruce's face. Okay, this was going into uncomfortable territory. How did Damian know about that? Were prison movies making that mainstream now?
Thankfully, Lucius came to his rescue. "A better question is where would you like to go, Bruce? Seeing as it isn't every day you leave prison, do you want to get some breakfast, or would you rather go home?"
Both of those options were tempting, but there was one place he had in mind. "Actually…"
This was a nightmare, plain and simple.
Maggie Sawyer had been blindsided by it at four o'clock in the morning. A phone call from the precinct woke her up to tell her they had a situation, that some woman had shown up claiming to be the true killer of Vesper Fairchild.
At first, she wanted to blow it off; it had to be some crackpot wanting to take credit for the murder for attention. She could deal with that when she came into the office later. However, the officer on the phone began rattling off details about the murder, details this woman shouldn't have access to without actually being present at the scene.
So Maggie came flying into the office within the hour.
Her name was Lady Shiva. That was the name she had given and a check through the criminal database hadn't really resulted in anything. A search through Interpol, however, connected the Asian woman with a string of murders and assassinations that nearly caused her jaw to drop. The printer had printed a list, one that kept going and going and going to the point she wondered when it would ever end.
And boy did she know details. She knew about Fairchild's coat being at the scene—a detail they had left out of press reports—which she claimed to wear. In fact, she claimed to be the woman on the security feed, right before she shut it down. She then described how Fairchild was killed, the beating, and then the use of the gun. She told them how Fairchild had fled into the bathroom, only to have the door broken down, Fairchild's face being slammed into the mirror before being thrown across the room. She told every punch, every kick, each a story for every bruise, cut, and broken bone they had found on the victim.
She told them about the cloned phone; she told them about a glove with Bruce Wayne's fingerprints on them; she told them about an accomplice, an injured man calling himself Orphan, who was currently receiving medical treatment from a severe beating at Gotham General. Then there was the physical proof the phone and gun, each in their own evidence bags that seemed to corroborate the claims.
So she had to know why? Why did she kill Fairchild? Why did she claim to frame Bruce Wayne for it? Why did she feel like she had to confess to the murder now?
Those answers turned out to be a contract on Fairchild's head, framing Wayne would keep the heat off of her—which had worked flawlessly, unfortunately—and as for the last one…
Lady Shiva had shrugged her shoulders and said, "I just felt like it."
That was hardly an answer, good or otherwise. However, before Maggie could probe for further details, she had been called into her office as her office phone began ringing off the hook. Interpol, the CIA, Gotham's mayor, just about anyone that was interested in Bruce Wayne or Lady Shiva began calling, wanting confirmation that it was indeed the real Lady Shiva, or Bruce Wayne was truly innocent.
As Maggie placed the receiver down from what felt like the fortieth call, she heard a knocking at her door. Now what? she couldn't help but internally grouse. Faintly, she wondered if Jim Gordon had ever gone through something this hellish.
Looking up, the blonde woman saw one of her officers standing in her open doorway. The door was ajar and the young man was leaning through it, seemingly peeking through it. "You have a visitor, Commissioner," he said, his tone indicating that something was extremely wrong.
"If it's a politician, tell them to take a number and wait," she ordered. She had been on the phone with too many of them as is, so she wasn't in the mood to talk with one in person. The lights on her phone stand showed she had several more calls to take as well.
"I think you're going to want to see this one," the officer told her. As if in response, the door suddenly swung further open and standing right behind the officer, his hand on the door, was Bruce Wayne.
Oh, shit.
"Mr. Wayne," Maggie greeted him as she immediately stood up. "Come in, have a seat."
"Don't mind if I do," Wayne responded as he walked around the officer, strolling right up to her desk, where he took a seat. "I hope you're having a good morning."
If Maggie wasn't a more composed person, she would have picked up her stapler and thrown it at his head. "I'll take it from here," she told her officer, who closed the door behind him. Then to her unexpected guest, "What can I do for you Mr. Wayne?"
A better question was why he was here. The Commissioner knew that if she had been arrested, rightfully or wrongfully, she would have wanted to keep her distance from any police precinct. Wayne was either stupid, or hadn't let his incarceration diminish his confidence in the least.
"I understand you have the real killer in custody," he began.
"We have a person of interest," she replied cautiously. Already, she had an idea of where this was going.
"If it's alright with you, I'd like to talk with them."
Maggie shook her head. "I can't let you do that. We're in the middle of investigating and we can't let any undue influences affect the investigation."
"I understand that," Wayne responded. "However, I really must insist. See, this person went to great lengths to frame me and I'd like to know why."
"As do we, Mr. Wayne."
"Then perhaps we can help each other. I get the answer out of this killer and I tell you all about it."
"Again, we can't have any undue influence—"
Wayne held up his head to cut her off. "With all due respect, Commissioner Sawyer, this case has more undue influence than any case in history because I'm attached to it. That's just the sad reality of it."
Well, he wasn't wrong. The lights on her phone stand were evidence of that. "And I can't just let you go talk with a suspect. It's simply not protocol."
The richest man in Gotham nodded. "Then let's talk about making this worth your while."
"Bribing is illegal," Mr. Wayne, she told him pointedly.
"Whoever said anything about bribing?" He shifted in his seat. "It is my understanding that my daughter had some issues with your detectives."
That was putting it mildly. This daughter of his actually froze them out of a potential crime scene, albeit one that was simply breaking-and-entering with possible theft of property. They had been working on obtaining a warrant still due to her interference.
"Now, I don't hold any ill will towards them," Wayne continued. "Let me just make that clear right off the bat. They were doing their jobs and they followed the clues right to me."
"I appreciate your understanding with that, Mr. Wayne."
"I also understand that my daughter threatened to cut off Wayne Enterprises funding to the GCPD because of the incident between her and your detectives. In fact, I can tell you the next donation has been canceled."
Well, that was certainly disappointing, but now Maggie had a pretty good idea of where this was going. "I can reverse that decision quite easily," Wayne told her. "All I ask is for five minutes alone. That's it. Regardless of what happens, Wayne Enterprises will restore its relationship with the GCPD. I'll admit, it'll be a little rocky, but it can only improve from where it's currently at."
Yeah, this was a bribe, but Maggie had to admit it was a good one. There were a number of donations that came to the GCPD from the community, none larger than the one from Wayne Enterprises. Without that donation and the department was looking at some serious cutbacks. The way he presented it, five minutes would save her the stress of having to scale back her budget significantly.
Decisions, decisions…
Commissioner Sawyer wasn't wrong that what he was doing was inappropriate. No way should he have access to the person that framed him for murder.
The Wayne Enterprises donation was either a bribe or blackmail, depending on your perspective. However, Sawyer was objective enough that she knew losing out on that money would stifle police efforts. What was a five minute conversation compared to a few million?
So Bruce found himself approaching the jail cell that contained Lady Shiva. The woman in question was sitting on the bed, her profile to the cell bars, legs crossed beneath her as she meditated. Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady. She didn't seem at all concerned with her current state.
There were recording devices here, be it cameras, be it audio receivers. Each was placed in areas to give the police the best chance at capturing a possible confession, or admission of guilt to criminals that were too chatty for their own good. Shiva was too disciplined to just talk about her conquests, so getting a recorded admission wasn't going to happen.
Still, he wanted to talk candidly with her, so steps needed to be taken.
Hands in his coat pockets, Bruce held a small device in one hand, one that he pressed a small button on. It made an audible clicking sound, telling him it had been successful.
"Shiva," he spoke, his tone low, very much the octave he used as Batman.
Shiva's eyes lazily opened, but she didn't look at him, calmly gazing to the wall across from her. "Detective," she greeted before rolling her head to one side, her eyes finally staring at him. "I would have thought you wanted to keep your distance from jail cells."
"Thanks to you, I have a new appreciation for them." Bruce took a couple of steps until he was standing a foot or so away from the cell bars. He had no concern that Shiva would try to attack him through the bars; that just wasn't her style unless it was part of her plan. He rather doubted she had planned to be arrested with this scheme of hers. "Mind telling me why you saw fit to do all of this?"
"Did our daughter not tell you?" she replied. The "our" was a reference to her acceptance of his being Cassandra's adoptive father. It was something Cassandra had told him the last time the two had interacted.
"She did. I just know better than to accept that as your entire reasoning."
The corner of her mouth twitched up. "Tell me what you think. I'd love to hear what that brilliant mind of yours has concocted."
Bruce wasn't one for this sort of game, but he also held great respect for Lady Shiva. He would play along with her. "You mentioned testing her and Damian. You wanted to see how they would react if I were in some sort of distress. There were also Ra's requests, but those hardly matter, so long as they didn't interfere with your main objective."
Shiva had turned on the bed, now facing him. She had even shifted her lower body so that she was completely facing him head on. "Ultimately, you wanted to see just how attached Cassandra is to me. You wanted to see how far she would go to help me. You also were testing me as well."
"And how was I testing you?"
"You wanted to see if I trusted her enough to free me, or if I would take matters into my own hands and arrange my own escape. I believe I've sufficiently proved myself."
"You have." There was a small smile on Shiva's face now. "That was quite surprising. I know the demon that drives you, Detective. It is the same one that drives me, albeit to different ends. In that way, we are quite alike."
"So where does that leave us? Are you going to keep testing us? Because I will admit, that will get old very fast."
Shiva lowered her head, shaking it back and forth. She never lost the bemused look on her face. "No, I must admit your influence over the girl is far stronger than I ever expected. She is lost to me at this point."
"Not necessarily," Bruce countered. "I can't imagine she's all that fond of you right now, but the one thing she wants more than anything is a family. Surprising considering where she started, not to mention where she's found it. I imagine if you actually tried familial overtures, she would come around. It'll take a lot, admittingly, but it would repair the damage you've done."
"Perhaps it is how you say, but you know me better than most, Detective. All I can do is destroy; I cannot nurture; I cannot build. In that regard, you are my superior."
"That's because you haven't tried, and from the sounds of it, you won't."
"How can I? Her values are different from mine, thanks to you. I value strength in that it allows me to overcome all challengers. You value strength to protect the weak and helpless. I see death as inevitable; you see death as something to resist for as long as you can. She has chosen your values over mine."
"She isn't the only one."
"No, she isn't, is she?" Shiva had a thoughtful look on her face. "You've surrounded yourself with those that find strength in your values. It is very much like the Demon and his followers, though his far outnumber yours."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Ra's wants an army; I never wanted that. I didn't want Cassandra following me in my footsteps either, but she did."
"It's difficult being a leader by example, isn't it?"
The two stared at each other for several moments after that. There really wasn't much to say after that. However, he did need to know one thing. "I need to know one thing: are you going to continue these plots of yours?"
"Clearly you haven't been listening, Detective," she replied mockingly. "I can see where our daughter gets it from now." The amusement left her face then. "No, I will no longer make a move against you. She sees you as her parent now. Raise her how you see fit; just know that if you do anything to harm her, we will have words."
Words of violence, no doubt.
"Let me guess: you'll be waiting in the wings for the moment I mess up and drive her away so you can pick up the pieces."
"That isn't necessarily a bad plan." Shiva then glanced away, purposefully looking towards the security cameras in the jail cell. "I must admit, you are quite brave to be discussing this in a police station with all of the surveillance equipment they have in place. Are you not afraid some of these seasoned police officers won't listen to this and try to understand our true connection?"
It was Bruce's turn to smirk. "I've already taken care of that. Let's just say the police have their hands full at the moment."
Love and marriage, love and marriage,
Goes together like a horse and carriage.
This I tell you, brother.
You can't have one without the other!
"What the hell is going on?" Maggie Sawyer demanded.
She and Detectives Allen and Montoya had surrounded the television with the footage of the jail cells, specifically the one holding Lady Shiva. Sawyer had wanted to hear what Wayne would say to the killer, see if they couldn't further build their case against the alleged assassin.
Then out of nowhere, static had changed the image and then the opening credits to an old television show appeared. Visuals of old Chicago were shown with the corresponding music.
"The hell are you watching Married With Children for?" Bullock asked, drawn to television. "Ain't it a bad time to be watching reruns, Com'mish?"
"We aren't watching it on purpose, Harvey," Montoya responded. "We wanted to see an interrogation when something interfered with the signal, I guess."
Allen was messing with the television. "That's as good of an explanation as I can come up with," he agreed. "It's almost like some television signal is overpowering our own, which shouldn't be happening."
"Well, if it's the only thing on, might as well watch," Bullock grunted. "Which season is it?"
"The one where you get back to work before I order you to go check on the jail cells," Sawyer snapped. "Now, unless you can fix the issue, I suggest you go."
"I'll go, but right after the commercial break. I'm on my ten, Com'mish."
Bruce held up the small device he had been keeping in his pocket. This caused Shiva to give him a small smile. "I should have known you would have taken steps."
"Yes, you should have." Bruce gazed stoically at Shiva. "It's never too late to change, you know. You can be there for her, but you have to make the effort. No one else can."
The dark-haired woman shook her head. "I've already told you, it's too late for me. I only know the way I live as it currently stands. I am one of those people you will not be able to save, Detective."
"Doesn't mean I can't try."
"What would you have me do? Go to prison? Wait for the girl to come visit me like she did you? I rather doubt she'll be that willing."
"You'd be surprised. She visited me as often as she could, even after I told her not to. Admittingly, she may not be there in the beginning, but—"
Shiva held up a hand, a gesture for him to stop. "Enough, I do not wish to belabor this any more than I already have. I'm certain whatever time the police gave you to speak with me is nearly up, if not over. You'd best leave."
Bruce nodded. "Think about what I've said. We'll be in contact if you choose correctly." Turning away, he left the jail cells, feeling Shiva's eyes on his back.
He had done what he could do; the ball was in her court now. He knew what he hoped would happen, but he knew how this would end. He had been telling the truth that Cassandra desired a mother figure, but it seemed that wasn't going to be.
And that was unfortunate, if not heartbreaking.
I must admit, I took the television interference scene from the X-Men: Days of Future Past movie. It's the scene where they're trying to break Magneto out of solitary and Beast uses a device to jam the security feeds and begins playing a television program. I want to say it was Sanford and Son. I chose Married...With Children for this though, mostly because I wanted to get a rise out of AV.
