Author's Note: Apologies for the late post. For whatever reason this morning, Fanfiction would not let me get on. I figured a late chapter is better than no chapter, espeically if there was no warning ahead of time. Without further delay, enjoy.

Tinsel and Garland

Top of the hour on Channel 9, the evening news began with its top story. A red haired woman in a teal jacket and white blouse sat behind the news desk, lights beaming on her while graphics played on stylized green screens behind her. Dainty hands held a prop, a small stack of papers reminiscent of days long past decades ago.

A teleprompter told her every word she needed to say so there was no need for the papers. Nevertheless, it had been a staple for years and older viewers complained when they didn't see them. The set itself was hot from all the lighting, it normally was. Technicians and cameramen were vacating the news desk itself while the studio director signaled that the commercial break was over.

Summer Gleason had arrived at the big time, after years in the field.

"Welcome Gotham City," she greeted warmly. "This is the six o'clock news and I am your anchor, Summer Gleason. Top of the hour, our first story is about the recent bombings that occurred last week. In two nights, three buildings went up in flames, and Gothamites are concerned that they may be next. Officials from the Gotham City Police Department continue to investigate the bombings and have not disclosed any new information. Commissioner Maggie Sawyer was asked for further comment, which she has declined.

"The bombings have occurred during the Christmas season, which has local merchants worried about a decline in sales. There has also been concern about the upcoming Christmas Tree Lighting, a tradition Gotham has followed since the Great Depression. The high-profile event involves high ranking city officials and members of Gotham's society scene. Questions have been asked of City Hall, and officials say that there is no need for worry about the ceremony. To allay citizens' concerns, security will be heightened, streets will be blocked off ahead of time, and checkpoints established to limit traffic prior to the lighting itself.

"When asked for comment, Mayor Sebastian Hady had this to say."

Falling silent, Summer allowed herself to take a break while the clip of the Mayor's comments were broadcasted. These were recordings from earlier in the day and not live. She herself had viewed them prior and now waited to be given the signal to begin speaking once more.

Should you be watching from a television, or any computer monitor that the broadcast was being streamed on, you would see the image of Summer being replaced by that of a close up of Mayor Hady, his shoulders and above visible and nothing else. Some microphones peek in from the bottom of the screen, shadows from the early afternoon sun falling over the interviewed man.

"All precautions are being taken to ensure not just the sanctity of the tree lighting, but the safety of all in attendance," Hady declared. "Our city has taken part in this tradition for almost one hundred years, and some mad bombers and arsonists will not stop it. We are Gothamites and it will take more than a little fire to make us back down. We've been through worse and we're still here. This is the season for giving and family, not violence and bloodshed."

The director gave the signal, and Summer resumed her anchoring. "As confident as Mayor Hady is, some Gothamites are more skeptical. Some opponents claim that Hady's insistence to keep the Christmas Tree Lighting on schedule is putting people's lives at risk and that more action is needed to catch the perpetrators."

Another pause as the broadcast shows another clip, a seemingly random Gothamite in winter gear, breathing out puffs of smoke as they spoke into the microphone held to them. "It's ridiculous. Maniacs are running around on the streets and you want to light a tree. You'd have to be out of your mind! It's not safe. We should be more focused on finding these people and not lighting some dumb tree!"

More clips were shown, and Summer waited for her cue to resume speaking. She took calming breaths, all the better to remain composed. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she liked the feeling. There was something about having her face put out to the whole city, and even counties beyond.

When the director's signal came once more, "For those interested in attending, the lighting takes place tonight at eight PM in the Gotham Plaza. Madison Street, Van Buren Avenue, and Taylor Avenue will be blocked off and traffic detoured. Dress warmly and comfortable as meteorologists predict a steep decrease in temperature. More on that with our weatherman Chuck Matthews at the bottom of the hour.

"For our next story, Councilman Jonas Goldstein has been reported missing. The Councilman was last seen two days ago and family members are worried. More on this story with Channel 9's regular contributor Jerri Prudence at the half hour, and she has some theories about the disappearance.

"Our next story…"

Commuters might be pissed, but the streets that were paved around the Gotham City Plaza were being blocked off earlier than usual. Checkpoints were being set up at almost every intersection to enforce all blockades. There were lots of yelling there, and all it would take is one driver thinking they were above the law to mow down one officer.

Snipers being stationed on any and all available rooftops would be law enforcement's response.

Commissioner Sawyer's radio was going off by the second, update after update coming through. She listened, noting that Madison Street was successfully blocked off for at least three city blocks away from the Plaza. Van Buren and Taylor were still in progress but should be complete within the hour. Judging by the sounds of car horns, that might not be soon.

Teams were being organized to patrol the perimeter and the interior of the plaza. No one was to go in without proper authorization. This meant the only people here who weren't law officers were the technicians who were setting everything up for the tree lighting.

Temperatures weren't helping to cool down hot tempers, and that was a recipe for disaster if anyone decided to throw around their authority. That would be an unneeded scandal and she didn't need Hady breathing down her neck about it.

They needed more, though. Even with a heightened police presence, you could just hear the complaints about seeing them. Too many cops, too uncomfortable, some people were too into themselves to consider what a heightened police presence actually meant. Fortunately, she had another weapon in her arsenal.

Undercovers, all dressed to blend in with the atmosphere. No, these weren't the actual undercover agents the department had spread out all over the city. These were your regular beat cops and detectives, the closest you could get to a nine-to-fiver on the force. All would be dressing up whether it be in plain clothes or in disguises that you could say…blended in.

Marching her way happened to be one of those undercovers.

"Ho ho ho, I get it, I got a gut. What the hell am I, Jolly ol' St. Whatever his name is!" Somehow, even dressed up as Santa Claus, Bullock looked unkempt. The red and white suit was ruffled and a button was not in one hole. Dark splotches hinted at something staining the cloth. The white fluffy beard hung off of one ear. The hair was lifeless somehow. Beefy hands were struggling to get the oversized black belt right.

The boots, oddly enough, were a perfect fit.

"You'll need to bear with it," Sawyer told the lieutenant, doing her best to hide her amusement. "It's only for the next few hours."

"But I'm no good with kids!" Bullock protested, the belt still not on right. "I wouldn't know what to do with 'em!"

"Quit your bellyaching. At least that has some layers on it." The assist came from another undercover, Detective Montoya. Currently, the detective was wearing a thick jacket, but the thin green leggings and the headband with fake, pointed ears gave away her role as one of Santa's happy elves. This elf wasn't wearing the green hat that was balled up in one fist. Once everything started, that jacket was going to go.

With a good view of the tree, there was a set up for your typical Santa Claus meet and greet, a place for children to engage in that old tradition of telling Santa what they wanted and getting a picture while they were at it. Poles and velvet rope marked off where the line would form and it had quite some length to it.

Decorations, that was what her undercovers would be.

"There is one other reason why you got tapped for Santa, Bullock," Sawyer remarked, baiting the lieutenant.

Naturally, Bullock took it. "What's that?"

"You're the only one with a big enough gut to make it believable."

Bullock's mouth opened, but no words came out. It closed, then opened again, only to close once more as Bullock tried to think of any retort but was coming up with nothing. Well, at least she wasn't the only one suffering right now.

However, to business. "You're both armed, correct?"

Montoya gave a swift nod of her head while Bullock favored the commissioner with a look that clearly said "what do you think?"

"Check with everyone, and try to keep warm until they start letting people into the plaza. Spread the word," Sawyer told them. "I need to make sure no one's sneaking a bomb around the podium or the tree. Everything starts at eight, but we need to be set up by six."

Getting affirmatives from both of the officers, begrudgingly in Bullock's case, Sawyer continued to make the rounds, speaking to various officers about the current state of their security. It was as if the eyes of the city itself would be on them, and there was no way she could disappoint.

Whether in uniform, undercover, or in the jumpsuits that the technicians wore, she was surrounded by a crowd of like-minded people determined to get everything set up and ready in time for the festivities. It wasn't snowing yet, but that could change at any time since you never could tell with weather.

Sometimes this meant having to dodge motorized heavy equipment, in particular ones that had raising platforms. Height was needed to get all the decorations up and really make the plaza a festive place.

In time, Sawyer's travels brought her to the stage and the tree itself. Covered in all sorts of ornaments from large balls to candy canes, lights that were not yet lit to streams of tinsel and garland, and of course the star on top of it. A massive tree had been cut down and transported to here, all the more to make it authentic. And of course, the presents under it; who was to say if they were real or not with their wrapping, bows, and ribbons?

Then she had to make a quick dodge as a trio of technicians nearly ran her over with one of their motorized raising platforms. A pair of nearby officers witnessed this and made their way over quickly.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" one of the officers snapped at the technicians. "You nearly ran over the commissioner!"

The three technicians varied in height, and it was the one of average height that spoke for them. "Didn't see you there. We didn't mean any harm! Boss is on our backs and wants everything done. Just some last minute decorations we need to put up."

"At least watch out and try not to run people over. You could seriously hurt someone!" the argumentative officer retorted.

"I'm fine. Just let it go," Sawyer butted in, hoping to diffuse the situation. They were starting to draw attention, and right now that was not what was needed. "So long as you gentlemen are careful when you leave, I think we can let bygones be bygones."

"Absolutely! We'll be very careful," the short one promised. Voice was a bit wheezy, but he did have some prominent front teeth. "We're very sorry!"

The big one looked like he was willing to have a fight, but so far made no move to provoke. This one was between the three law enforcers and the raising platform with what looked like three oblong-shaped bags placed on the platform itself. They were more than likely filled with additional decorations for the tree, and to be fair all this work would continue until the last minute, last second changes being done on the fly.

Everyone was on edge, different reasons for each, but stress nonetheless.

Turning to the two officers that had come to her aid, she gestured with her head for them to go elsewhere. With the technicians busy here, it would be better to go over the stage later. The commissioner could get a few more officers to do the last check of it and get more eyes on it as a result.

There were still other arrangements to be finalized. Making sure the streets were blocked off, patrols were regular, snipers in their positions, undercovers in theirs, and…oh yes, preparing to receive the high profile dignitaries that would make up Hady's entourage for the event. That was next on her list, so figuring which officers could take that role would have to follow.

Meanwhile, the large technician had climbed onto the raising platform and was starting to unzip one of the oblong bags. The small technician was operating the platform's control and manually began raising it up. The average-sized technician was making checks around the tree, though for some reason it seemed like the man was trying to make it look like he was doing something. He wouldn't be the only one, but he was a bit more obvious about it.

No sense in looking for trouble, not when this tree lighting business was trouble enough. Too many bombings in too short a time; they should be looking for the bomber or bombers instead. At least Kurt Bowman was still behind bars so she could safely say it wasn't him.

As branches full of pine needles began to shake, the large technician getting to work, Sawyer forced herself to attend to other pressing matters, putting this little encounter behind her.

Bygones, after all.

Cassandra stared at the clock. The minutes had been ticking by so slowly, especially as her appointment time drew near. Her boss, Swanson, was locked in his office, allegedly doing his job.

Seeing another minute tick by, the dark-haired girl felt she had waited long enough. Standing up, she picked up an armful of folders and left her desk, heading towards the elevators. She noticed a few of her fellow co-workers eye her as she passed by, but they promptly returned to their own work. Her arms tightly held onto folders, pressing them up against her torso.

Once she reached the elevator, she boarded it and took it up to the top floor. The familiar sight of the hallway leading to the executive suites greeted her and she felt a wave of nostalgia. Entering the hallway, she made her way to her old training station, finding Susan seated behind the desk.

The older woman immediately spotted her. Susan wasn't an old lady, after all, she had an infant at home, but she was older than Cassandra. "Hey, Cassandra," she greeted her warmly. "What brings you here?"

The younger girl nodded, a small smile on her own face. "I'm the eleven-thirty."

"Really?" Susan's eyes dropped down to the files she held. "Are you just dropping those off?"

"No, presenting them."

This caused the secretary's eyebrows to raise. "That's…unusual."

"It's something I felt I needed to show Mr. Fox," she explained politely. "And I felt the best way was to make an appointment."

"I see." The older woman's eyes narrowed. "I was wondering how that appointment was made. I didn't recall making it."

So perhaps Cassandra had made her own appointment. It was how she had made certain she had a time to meet Lucius instead of being scheduled weeks out. She had been his assistant long enough to know just how busy he was.

Susan adjusted herself in her seat. "I'm certain we both know what happened," she said, giving the younger girl a pointed look. "I'll overlook it this time, but don't take advantage of the system again, alright? I didn't train you just for you to do what you like whenever you feel like it."

Cassandra nodded. "I understand. I just felt this was important enough for Mr. Fox to see it as soon as possible."

Now she frowned. "And what exactly is it Mr. Fox needs to see?"

"I'd rather not say right now. If I am wrong, then this is just an embarrassing moment for me. If I'm right, then the company may need to take action."

Susan stared at her before she moved a hand and pushed the intercom button. "Your eleven-thirty is here, Mr. Fox," she said.

That left the two women staring at each other. "So, how is your baby?" Cassandra eventually asked.

"Oh, she's doing very good. She's about to turn one. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to come back to work," she said wistfully. "Unfortunately, bills exist."

Suddenly, the doors to Lucius' office opened and the older man appeared. "Well, well, how are you doing, Cassandra?" he greeted her warmly. His eyes glanced around before he frowned. "Susan, you said my eleven-thirty is here?"

Susan just gestured a hand to the dark-haired girl. "She's right here."

"Really?" Lucius raised an eyebrow, not unlike Susan earlier. "If you wanted to visit, Cassandra, you didn't need to make an appointment."

"I felt it was more appropriate that I do so," Cassandra responded as she walked towards her former boss. "There's a matter I need to discuss with you."

Lucius just took a step back so that she could enter his office. Cassandra strolled into the familiar room and made a beeline for the desk, placing her files on it before taking a seat in a nearby chair. There was a distinct lack of her father's presence here, which was unfortunate.

Lucius closed the door and made his way to his desk. "So, what is so urgent you needed to make an appointment with me?" the dark-skinned man asked as he also took a seat.

"I came across some inconsistencies in some of the company's accounting reports," Cassandra immediately informed him. She picked up the top file on her stack and held it out to Lucius, who accepted it. "It happened by pure chance that I found them, so I ran them through the home super computer."

Lucius opened the file and flipped through a few of the pages contained within it. "What did you find, Cassandra?"

"I believe Rob Swanson is embezzling funds from Wayne Enterprises."

This caused the man to perk up. "What makes you certain of this?"

"The accounting numbers don't add up," she explained. "I've seen the accounting program Wayne Enterprises uses, and there is no way any errors should exist. You can see in the seventh column that the math doesn't add up. I had to do some research, but I managed to locate which accounts weren't correct. There's only one person involved in every inaccurate account."

"Go on," Lucius prodded.

"I then checked the bank statements of the…person of interest, and I found the corresponding amounts there. The amounts missing from Wayne Enterprises equal the ones being added to the bank accounts."

"You're making accusations of embezzlement, Cassandra. That's a pretty serious allegation."

"I wouldn't make it without having proof, Mr. Fox."

Lucius stared at her before nodding. "I suppose that's true. You were taught well, after all." He sat there lost in thought. Then his eyes glanced at the stack of folders sitting on his desk. "Am I wrong in assuming all the evidence I need is in those files?"

She gave a sharp nod. "Yes, they are."

"Then I'm going to have our legal team comb through it and see what we can do about this." The older man gave her a gentle smile. "It seems your inner detective never turns off, does it."

"It never does." Cassandra then glanced around. "I would have thought my father would have been here for this."

"Cassandra, it's almost noon."

"Where is he then?"

It was lunchtime and Bruce had already slipped off. His order had already been placed and he was passing the time, staring at his phone. His email box was loaded with unread emails, mostly due to work. If he so much as missed an hour, twenty new emails would magically pop up that he would need to read and review.

He still felt off. His last couple of near-death experiences weighed on him. His body was sore as well, a constant reminder of being trapped with a bomb. His brooding hadn't ended in the Cave.

At least it was in the back of his head rather than the forefront. Having to run Wayne Enterprises was a good distraction from his darker thoughts.

"Is this seat taken?"

Bruce glanced up from his phone, pausing with bewildered eyes as he saw a sharply-dressed Selina Kyle. She had a coy smile on her face, her blonde hair falling over one shoulder. Or should he say, her blonde wig. His meeting with her at her penthouse had shown her shorter, black hair.

"Selina," he greeted warmly as he placed his phone down on the table and stood up, reaching a hand out to her. Selina returned the gesture, though their handshake left something to be desired. While he went in for a solid handshake, she returned it with a weak grip. In fact, she had only placed her fingers into his palm, so she couldn't get that good of a grip. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like?" she replied teasingly. "I saw you sitting by your lonesome and thought you might want some company."

"I certainly won't turn your company down," he responded, to which the woman took a seat in the unoccupied chair. Sitting down as well, Bruce sought out the attention of a waiter, raising a hand up which got him an immediate response. "Whatever the lady wants, put it on my bill," he told them first and foremost.

"How generous of you," Selina said, still smiling. Then she immediately put in an order for a rather pricey wine. He knew she had expensive tastes, so this wasn't surprising. He paid more attention to her body language than the words coming out of her mouth as she placed an order. Someone had clearly checked the menu before arriving.

It was as if she had expected to run into him here.

The moment the waiter took off with her order, Selina returned her attention to him. "You eat early, don't you?" she began the small talk.

"I eat when I'm hungry," he shrugged back in response. "I suppose you usually eat later."

"I eat whenever I want," she sniffed.

"Like now."

"Of course."

Bruce stared at her bemused. "I can't imagine you're here just for my company."

"What makes you say that?"

"The last few times we met, you've usually sought something out of me. What is it this time?"

Selina had an innocent expression on her face. "I can't just want to spend some time with you?"

"No one just wants to spend time with me," he deadpanned. "Even people I consider friends always pitch some new business venture or the next 'can't-miss' opportunity."

"You make that sound like some sort of burden," she responded pointedly. "Not everyone gets those opportunities. Most are simply trying to get by and struggle to do so."

Said the head of the Calabrese crime family, which had a known record for extorting those same struggling people. Of course, Batman knew this, but Bruce Wayne didn't know this connection. So he shrugged his shoulders. He didn't feel like launching into another conversation about how he could be helping people less fortunate than him. He was nearly hemorrhaging money with the number of causes he helped fund, ones he didn't trumpet his involvement with.

"So, I suppose you have a cause you would like my support on?" he ventured.

"Only our current shared business," she assured him.

Was that right? "Have you managed to get those sabotage incidents under control?" he asked.

Selina nodded, absently raising a hand up to brush some of her blonde hair from her face. "Oh yes. We haven't had an incident in weeks."

"Any idea of who they were?"

"Some unhappy unionist," she shrugged.

Bruce took his turn to nod. "That isn't surprising."

"It isn't?"

The dark-haired man picked up a nearby glass of water and took a sip from it. "In Gotham, organized crime and the unions got into bed early on. I know much has been made that that connection no longer exists, but anyone that thinks that is willfully ignorant, or they've got an agenda. The unions were a cash cow for the Mob for years, if not decades. You don't let something like that slip out of your grasp; you just hide your presence better."

At that time, the waiter returned and set down Selina's glass of wine, checked with them to see if there was anything else they wanted, then departed. The woman picked up her drink and took a sip from it. "It sounds like you don't have a high opinion of unions," she observed.

"Well, considering the sabotage efforts you've experienced, I'm inclined to say you don't either. Otherwise, you'd be using union labor and those incidents wouldn't have happened."

That gave her pause. "I suppose you have a point," she begrudgingly admitted. "How about we drop the subject of work then?"

"By all means," he agreed. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

She shrugged. "I suppose you're heard about the tree lighting thing tonight."

"It's hard to miss."

"Do you plan to go?"

Bruce shrugged this time. "Not particularly. I'll catch the replay on the news. You?"

"I have other plans." She took another sip of her wine. "How about Christmas? Do you plan on locking yourself up in that big old mansion of yours like Scrooge?"

"Depends on the number of party invites I get. I'm up to twelve right now." Bruce paused as he considered on such invite. "I don't suppose you've heard of the Max-querade Ball."

Immediately, Selina's mood darkened. "I have not," she replied slowly.

"It's a party hosted by the one-and-only Max Shreck."

"Are you planning on going?"

"I have yet to respond in the positive to those invites."

An approving look appeared on the woman's face. Faintly, he felt something brush up against his leg. Her foot, perhaps? However, he was intrigued by her initial response to Shreck's party invite. She didn't have that good of an opinion of Shreck, which was more in line with Catwoman's. That didn't help the theory that she was in some way connected to Shreck as an end-around to get his power plant built.

"It's a plus-one, you know," he continued nonchalantly. "It usually is. I don't suppose you're interested."

"In being your plus one and being that close to Max Shreck?" she responded rhetorically. "Excuse me if I don't jump for joy."

"You don't seem too fond of him," Bruce observed.

"I never really had the desire to be that close to an alien."

Bruce didn't really have a response to that, so he didn't. He could feel that Selina was up to something, but so far he hadn't made any headway. While he knew he could play things close to the vest, he hadn't ever played them as tightly as Selina was. What was driving her? What made her want to build Max Shreck's own power plant in spite of her clear detest of him?

That was quite a contradiction.