"I want a goon on every corner of the Narrows and Upper Gotham, today. I don't care if the carts aren't up to regulation, I'll ask Lex to pay off who I need to. I want regular updates coming in, I don't care if it's just some Joker Goon sneezing funny." Alexandera paced the length of her apartment's rooftop. Taller buildings shielded her from the worst of the wind. "Call Cobblepot and see if he is willing to share his network with us for a time. I'm gonna find that red headed asshole if it's the last thing I fucking do." Alexandera's voice was deceptively quiet, belying her rage.
"Yes, Boss." Marcus replied, The Chef could hear muffled voices in the background, frantic. "Any other orders?"
"Ask if Joker is willing to play along while you're at it. Speedracer's got a raging hard on for the clown and it might make him sloppy." The Chef glanced over the edge of her building, spying a too clean for The Narrows town car stopped at a traffic light. That must be Alfred. "And check if Puzzle's has found anything online. I'm done playing games. I gotta go. I want a report three days from now."
"Yes, Boss." Marcus hung up, and The Chef pulled one last drag from her cigarette. Jervis hesitantly approached, holding his arms open. The Chef didn't think twice. Flicking her smoke over the edge of the roof, she stepped into the embrace, hugging him tight. She wasn't ready to talk about his admission of love, and he was sane enough to realize it.
"Oh, Alice. I don't understand what has you so hurt, but I am here for you." Jervis whispered into her ear, tightening his hold. Alexandera didn't reply, just held on a little longer. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Stay out of trouble and out of sight. If this goes on longer, I may be making a Rogue Debut." Alexandera pulled away with a grin look, walking to the rooftop access door. Alfred would be here soon.
"You're not a villain, Dearest." Jervis said earnestly, sounding pained at the idea. The Chef huffed.
"Yeah, well. You know what they say... Villains aren't born." The Chef slammed the door open. "And Red Hood just made a new one."
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Gene had helped Alfred load the trunk of the car with their overnight bags. The Chef sat silently in the front seat, leg jumping as she bit at the inside of her lip. She needed to see Damien. Needed to know how bad he was. The rest of the car occupants picked up on her mood, and stayed silent. Alfred had turned on a classical music station, the only noise aside from traffic. The Gotham Event Center was packed. Vans and trailers, and people swarmed the parking lot. Alfred pulled into a reserved parking spot with Bruce's name emblazed on a sign. Seeing his name almost had Alexandera seeing red. She was out the car before Al turned the engine off. Gene offered her his coffee, and a quick sniff had her raising a brow. Gene smiled meekly.
"It's scotch." The Chef didn't speak, but nodded, gulping down the coffee in three swallows. Alfred rounded the vehicle.
"This way." The Butler led them through the crowd, the scene loud with voices and animal calls. The crowd parted almost instinctively, The Chef unknowingly hunched over, head on a swivel as she inspected the crowd, hunting. Even the animals seemed wary. Finally, she spotted a well decorated booth bedecked in gold and blue. Gotham Academy. Alexandera didn't wait, slipping past the parents and teachers that haltingly protested her intrusion. Students stepped back to give her a wide berth when she glanced over them.
And there, next to a shaggy mop of a cow, was her brother's dark hair, brush in his free, uninjured, hand, stroking the calm bovine.
Alexandera grabbed Damien by his shoulder, yanking him from the cow, startling the boy. He rounded fast, brush raised in an aborted hit.
His cheek was swollen. And his eye was bruised. His arm in a white cast that was already signed. Damien stood tall, chest puffed, waiting for his Uhkti to punish him for his weakness. His failure. Memories of The League, his grandfather, his mother swarmed in his mind. He waited for his other arm to snap. Instead, she fell to her knees...
And pulled him into a tight hug. His arm twinged in pain.
"I'm gonna kill that fucking bucket head." The Chef hissed. Damien blinked hard, ignoring the open stares of his fellow classmates, their guardians, and his teachers.
"Ukhti, please. You are making a scene..." Damien pleaded halfheartedly. The Chef made no move, and he heard her sniff heavily. "I am fine." Alexandera pulled away, but kept her hands on his shoulders.
"You're fucking grounded, Kid." His Ukhti had tears in her eyes, and somehow that hurt more than any punishment he had ever received.
"Ma'am, please refrain from cursing infro-" Damien could hear Alexandera's neck crack from the speed she turned to glare up at his teacher. "Of... The children?" Mr. Callehaid trailed off.
"Those brats say a lot worse to each other daily, and you fucking know it. Now fuck off, I'm scolding my Brat." Alexandera growled. The fuzzy cow bellowed low, swinging its head towards the sound of anger.
"Salam, Naeim, salam." Damien petted the cows side, easing its agitation. He distantly wished the same would work for Alexandera. "Ukhti, please, we can discuss this when we return home."
"There ain't nothing to discuss. You're grounded. Until you're healed up." The Chef sniffed loudly, then stood. The cow edged closer to Damien, eyeing Alexandera's movements. "You're staying with me for the next week so I can keep an eye on you. You'll be on the register at the diner in the daytime, and at night... Well we'll figure that out. Movies or some shit."
"I do not need supervision." Damien protested, heat flooding his face as more eyes lingered on him and his Ukhti. "Should you not be taking away frivolous activities?"
"Oh? So you weren't planning on just powering through? Shit, Kid! You shouldn't be here right now. You should be at the hospital, charming nurses into extra juice boxes." Damien floundered. She was right, and he could hear his classmates laughing. "You're stubborn, but I'm worse. Grounded. Al can pack your shit after your birthday tomorrow, and then it's my place."
"Are you Damien's mom?" Alexandera turned to the voice, a girl with two large puffs on either side of her head asked, looking between the two, head cocked. "You have the same frown." There was a cut off laugh, Damien and Alexandera looked at Gene and Al. Gene was pointedly looking away, Alfred had a hand raised, covering his mouth elegantly.
"No. I'm..." Alexandera trailed off, unsure how to answer.
"Aunt. She is my aunt, Kiara" Damien quickly covered, though he frowned deeply at the moniker. She was his Ukhti, but it would be hard to explain.
"Oh!" Kiara chirped, braces flashing when she smiled. She held her hand out to shake. "It's nice to meet you! Damien doesn't talk much about his family." The Chef eyes the hand, but shook it.
"I don't blame him." The Chef turned back to Damien. "Your... Cow is very... Shaggy?" The Chef complimented. Or tried to. She watched as Damien's expression softened a touch, slowly petting the cow that had turned to fully stand next to Damien, almost protectively.
"This is Naeim, she is very well behaved." Suddenly The Chef was pulled into a 12 point inspection. Shaggy coat, undercoat, hooves, teeth, nose, eyes, diet, demeanor. She learned more about cows than culinary school and Andre ever taught her combined. Damien's friends chiming in and pulling her around their booth to do the same for the chickens, a pig, even two goats. The goats freaked her out a little, their eyes weird in her opinion. It didn't help one head butted her thigh, playfully as it was still young she was told.. She had a grip on its horn, and the kid belated loudly, shaking its head to loosen her grip, hopping. Gene stood outside the pen, taking photos of the scene, laughing.
All around her she was peppered with questions from children. What did she do for a living? Did she live at Wayne Manor? Was Damien always this weird? (She'd growled lowly at the boy who'd asked that, and he paled, backing away.) What hair dye did she use? How did Damien break his arm?
Damien helped field the questions Alexandera didn't want to, or couldn't, answer.
"Is it really Damien's birthday tomorrow?" Kiara, the puff haired girl had a chicken in her arms, ignoring the pecks at her shirt.
"Yeah." The Chef responded, still holding a young goat at bay. She didn't catch Damien's panicked look.
"Oh my God! Happy birthday!" The girl squealed, hugging a very uncomfortable looking Damien and began singing. The rest of the kids, Gene, Alfred, and a few adults joined in. Alexandera smirked, singing along, taking delight in Damien's torture. The idea to take him to a chain restaurant to get the wait staff to sing loudly and clapping. She dismissed the idea quickly. This was definitely enough of a punishment.
"Miss... Wayne?" The teacher from earlier called from the other side of the pen. The Chef felt her face pinch at the assumption. Damien gave a very un-Damien-like snort.
"It's Fox." She snapped, still struggling with the baby goat.
"The judges are coming here next, we need all adults save for teachers to vacate the pen." The Chef nodded, turning back to Damien.
"Break a leg, Kid." Damien narrowed his gaze.
"I already broke my arm, is that not enough?"
"Shut the fuck up, Brat, you know what I mean." Damien laughed lightly as The Chef released the goat, and climbed over the pen, evading another headbutt. The goat bleated loudly, following as far as it could along the perimeter of its enclosure. gene was following along with his phone.
"You know, if you weren't a Fox, I could see you as a Goat." The Chef shoved the phone back from her face, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure Ko has a headband with horns somewhere from a satyr cosplay."
"I can't with you right now." The Chef snuck a sip from her flask, using Alfred as a human shield. "Al, I'm kidnapping Damien for a week."
"Of course, Miss Fox. Shall I inform Master Wayne of the young Master's plans?"
"No. Let him panic, he deserves it." Alexandera seethed. Watching keenly as Damien went through the same inspection he'd given her to the judges.
"Very well, I will inform him when he asks." Alfred obliged. He was just as disappointed in Bruce for his foolishness.
"You know... You're evil, Lexie." Gene stated, sending his videos and pictures to Ko.
"Yeah, well... My brats hurt." Gene couldn't imagine how he would react if someone hurt his kids. He figured Alexandera's reaction was a good enough example.
If only he knew Alexandera had been given a pistol not long after she had gone to the roof.
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Damien was seething at receiving second place for Naeim. A Holstein-Friesian won first. It wasn't even cute! Batcow was much cuter! He suddenly stopped short at his childish thoughts. Though, Batcow was much more appealing. He'd hoped she'd like his Ukhti. Naeim was skittish around Alexandera, he believed it was due to her behavior upon arrival.
Alexandera was still crowded with teens, all bombarding her with questions about Damien and the Wayne family. Even some adults joined in. Jumpers, the baby goat, had its head wedged through the pen railings, bleating loudly for The Chef. Damien noticed she seemed to be ignoring the goat, but her free hand was scratching idly around the little nubs on its head.
"Your auntie is really cool, Damien!" Kiara said, shoveling hay into Naeim's trough.
"Thank you." Damien replied, he continued to brush Naeim, trailing his fingers behind each stroke.
"Are you doing anything for your birthday?"
"My father is holding a small family gathering. After, Ukhti is taking me to her home, where I no doubt will be subjected to what she seems to be necessary children's media."
"Oo-whatnow?" Kiara laughed, stumbling over the word.
"Ukhti. It is a familial term."
"Is this like Fluffy?" Damien felt his cheeks heat up.
"Naeim is a very appropriate name."
"Whatever, you named her Fluffy, you softie!" Kiara teased.
"You called your goat Jumpers!" Damien rebuked, before whispering to his cow. "Do not listen to her, it is a good name."
"You must get it from your auntie. She seems like a secret softie, too." Kiara gave a conspiring wink.
"Do not let her hear you say that. You might end up doing dishes for the afternoon." Kiara laughed, not believing the warning.
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Alfred dropped Gene and Alexandera off at Wayne Manor, leaving the two in the care of Dick. He needed to pick Damien up from Gotham Academy after they returned the livestock back to their homes. Dick remembered Alexandera from the charity dinner.
"Master Grayson, would you please show Mr. Jones and Miss Fox to their rooms? And perhaps fill Miss Fox in on tomorrow's plans?" Dick agreed, grabbing the man's bags. He went to grab the woman's bag but she side stepped.
"I got it." She stated. "Where's your bar, Al?" Alfred didn't seem fazed, and Dick envied him.
"In the study, Master Grayson will show you after you settle into your room for the night." With that, Alfred left, leaving Dick alone with the gawking man and glaring woman.
"Uh... Follow me?" Dick meekly said, leading them up the stairs. He answered Gene's questions about the manor and its artwork the best he could. They stopped at his room first, a king bed with an attached nursery. There was already a child sized canopy bed and bassinet waiting. Antique toys, a rocking horse, blocks, clean plush animals set out and waiting. Gene whistled, impressed, gushing on about his wife's expected reaction. Dick couldn't help his smile at the man's excitement. It fell when he faced the critical eye of the blue haired woman.
"Your room is on the next floor. Next to Damien's."
"Cool." She dully replied, stepping back out of the room. "Don't send her any pictures yet, Gene. I want to see her reaction."
"She's gonna cry." Gene exclaimed, gesturing to the room. "Holy cow, is that a claw foot tub?!" Gene rushed into the bathroom and Dick could hear his echoing words of 'It is!'. He heard The Chef snort, and caught her rolling her eyes, a half grin on her lips. Dick led her up another floor, and almost bumped into Tim and Duke. Both were engrossed in their game systems, Duke taunting Tim with his impending win, until Dick cleared his throat. Tim did a double take when he saw blue hair.
"Oh shit, you're Damien's crazy lady!" Tim looked to Dick. "What's she doing here?" His tone suspicious.
"Damien invited her and a few others. Behave." Dick said, already exasperated. "Ma'am, you already know Tim. This is Duke, our brother." Duke smiled brightly, grabbing The Chef's hand and shaking vigorously.
"Hi! Nice to meet you! You know Damien? That's weird, he's such a loner. That's great!" Duke gushed, still shaking her hand. The game chimed out 'GAME!' and he dropped her hand quickly. "Ha! I won by default!"
"Hey! I woulda won if we didn't get distracted!" Tim huffed. "Rematch!" The boys ignored Dick and Alexandera as they set up another game. Dick led The Chef around the stationary boys to her room.
"Sorry about that. They are... Very competitive."
"It's fine. How many people are gonna be here?"
"Pretty much all the Ba- aaaah, Bruce's family! His kids, that is!" Dick dig his nails into his palm at his almost slip up, though she didn't seem to notice. "Plus Dad's girlfriend, mine, a few friends, and you and your friends."
"How many kids does Wayne have?"
"Ten, though Damien is the only blood son Dad has."
"Fucking hell, where does he find you all? Goodwill?" Dick laughed at her joke. "Jesus, Christmas must be ridiculous."
"It's not as wild as you'd think." Dick smiled. "Alfred usually handles it."
"That's a lot to put on the old man."
"We help out where we can. Oh, here's your room!" Dick stopped in front of a dark stained door. "Damien is to your left. You have an attached bathroom." He opened the door, and before he could show her the room, a voice sounded from behind them.
"Is that a wild Ragamuffin I see?" The Chef recognized that voice. Dick stiffened at the voice.
"Selina?" Alexandera saw the dark woman slinking forward. She was dressed in a yellow bodycon dress, a tasteful slit up to her mid thigh, gracefully walking in stilettos. The Chef prayed for her ankles. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing." Her sharp gaze flickered to Dick, then back to Alexandera. "Blue, Darrrling? It suits you." Selina purred, gently resting a hand on The Chef's shoulder, leaning forward to mock kiss her cheeks.
"Thanks. Been keeping up with the cut you gave me." The Chef ran a hand over the buzzed side of her hair.
"You two... Know each other?" Dick asked, discreetly feeling his pockets. At least his wallet was still on him.
"Oh, yes! We're old friends." Selina simpered, smiling coyly. "It's been too long though! Why don't you run along, we have so much catching up to do." Selina didn't wait for Dick's response, ushering Alexandera into the room and shutting the door in his face.
Dick was suddenly very worried. He didn't know exactly for who, though. Himself, Alexandera, or Bruce.
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"Well, well! This is certainly a surprise!" Selina sat on the large bed and crossed her ankles, the picture of elegance.
"You're telling me." Alexandera said, pulling her flask out for a sip, offering it to Selina, who accepted. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm Bruce's girlfriend." The Chef's head jerked back in surprise.
"Oh. Kinda thought you were..."
"A Rogue?"
"Well yeah, with Harley and Ivy knowing you."
"I'm more of a free agent, Ragamuffin." Selina didn't even blink at the burn from the alcohol. "Sometimes I'm good, sometimes I'm bad." Her tone dipped seductively towards the end of her statement.
"Huh... And does Wayne know?"
"Of course! It keeps him on his toes. He is the 'World's Greatest Detective's', after all." Selina smiled wryly. "You don't seem surprised by that, though."
"I figured it out." The Chef reached out for her flask, and Selina passed it back. "Your boyfriend, huh?"
"Clever girl. It's as complicated as it sounds. I love it." Selina leaned back on the bed. "And word on the street is you've become quite complicated yourself."
"Can you keep that to yourself, I don't need my diner closed because I'm in Blackgate."
"Oh, don't worry. There are so many tomcats keeping you safe. Even a few birdies." Selina laughed. "It's frustrating Bruce to no end. He even came to me asking if I knew anything."
"Once Red Hood is dealt with, it's back to being your average Gotham Bitch." The Chef drank the rest of her flask, frowning when she reached the end. "Do you know anything about him?"
"Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. I'm not about to thrust myself into the middle of this fight." The Chef scowled. "I'm rooting for you though."
"Thanks, I guess." Alexandera rolled her eyes.
"I do have a word of advice..." Selina suddenly sounded very serious, though her posture didn't change. "Do. Not. Tell Joker who Batman is. You'll die."
"Like I'd do that." Alexandera scoffed.
"I'm serious. Joker has killed people for attempting to tell him. He loves the mystery, the danger. He may even suspect, but he will never confirm." Selina suddenly looked sad. "Harley learned that the hard way."
"Did he hurt her?" The Chef balled her fists.
"Yes. Don't interfere. Harley has been pulling away for some time. Ivy has been helping. If you push though, it could undo her progress."
"Fuck. This shits crazy."
"It often is. Nevermind that. I've heard you've got your set of relationships!" Selina gracefully rolled onto her stomach, stretching languidly. "Do tell, is Scarecrow as wild of a beast in bed as he seems?"
"W-what?! I'm not fucking him!" The Chef nearly shouted, then back pedaled. "Relationships?"
"Oh yes! You, Edward, Jervis, Crane and Crow. It all sounds so sorrrdid!" The woman grinned mischievously. The Chef sputtered.
"I ain't fucking any of them!"
"So you are in a relationship with them?"
"No! Just Jervis!" Alexandera felt her ears heat at her confession.
"That's somehow disappointing yet more intriguing. He seems like he'd be romantic." The Chef sighed. "Does he keep the hat on?"
"He has his moments. He's apparently been working on his episodes with Crane." Selina narrowed her eyes.
"I see... Well they have been oddly quiet recently." Alexandera groaned.
"You just jinxed it. You jinxed me!" The Chef flopped on to the bed, and sank a few inches in the downy bedding. "Now something stupids gonna happen. Crow's gonna gas the city. Puzzle's gonna hold a wheel of fortune in Latin. Jervis... He'll probably try and cook again."
"I can't tell which is worse!" Selina laughed, and The Chef joined in, her laughter muffled by the bed.
"Jervis. Definitely his cooking."
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Damien could hear laughing next to his room when he walked in. Interest piqued, he showered quickly and dressed in his most casual outfit. He paused outside his Ukhti's door, eavesdropping but not hearing anything distinct. He knocked.
"It's open." Damien was at a loss when he opened the door. His Father's... Friend, Catwoman, Selina lounged on the bed, His Ukhti lying next to her, body shaking in laughter. She looked back, and audibly gasped, rolling off the bed.
"Kid! Is that a t-shirt? And jeans?!" Alexandera shook her head in disbelief. "I don't think I've ever seen you in anything other than a fucking sweater vest and slacks."
"I am capable of being casual, Ukhti. I simply have a reputation to uphold in public." Damien rolled his eyes, but smiled slightly. He looked over to Selina. "I hope you are behaving." Selina rolled her eyes, and effortlessly pushed herself off the bed, tugging her dress down slightly.
"I always behave, Little Bird." Selina kissed the air next to Alexandera's cheek as she passed. "I'll see you tonight at dinner, Ragamuffin. I want all the juicy details later." Selina eased out the roof, leaving a trail of expensive perfume behind her.
"Ugh, I'm not forward to it." The Chef groused, lightheartedly. "Congrats on your ribbon, Kid." Damien huffed.
"Second place! It is insulting. That weak heffer hardly deserved fourth."
"Didn't take you for a sore loser, Brat. Cheer up." The Chef lightly smacked the side of his head. "Just think, when Noriko shows up, she'll be all over the brats here. I'll even tell her Drake needs a mommy. She'll smother him." That got a small devious smile out of the boy.
"He will not know what to do." Damien tugged at his shirt. "Come, I want to show you the stables."
"Of course you have a stable. What, horses?"
"No. Batcow."
"You gotta be kidding me." Alexandera scoffed, following after Damien.
"Not in the slightest. You will understand when you see her face."
"Batcow, though? Isn't that a little on the nose?"
"We also have Batdog." Damien smirked at Alexandera.
"You're fucking with me. You gotta be!"
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Dinner started as an awkward affair. The Chef, Gene, Noriko and the kids got odd glances from the various members on the Wayne side. The Chef completely ignored it as she talked with Damien and Alfred. Gene gasped slightly when he put together exactly who was at the table, but wisely kept it to himself, mumbling about not blowing on the food. Noriko was pulled into conversation with Selina, the latter holding Levi in her lap, cooing over him. Little Lexie was in a highchair reaching for Alexandera, whining loudly whenever The Chef looked away to take a bite. Eventually she grabbed the child from the chair, and sat her on the table, feeding her bites from her own plate. Noriko beamed at Alexandera's actions, sneaking a candid photo.
"So... You're a friend of Alfred?" A ginger haired woman asked, hair almost as orange and the orange skin woman seated next to Dick. The Chef didn't bother commenting on that.
"She is my mentor." Damien interrupted before Alexandera could answer. Barbara, of Alexandera remembered correctly, looked shocked.
"She's the crazy lady from the Christmas dinner." Tim muttered, pushing the food around his plate, staring The Chef down.
"Lady Chef is not crazy, Drake." Damien fiercely defended, glaring at the boy.
"Brat, you gotta be a little crazy to live in Gotham." The Chef huffed, pointing her fork at Drake. "And you, eat. Al worked hard to feed your skeevy ass."
"I'm not hungry." Tim challenged. The Wayne side of the table shuddered at her evil grin.
"Hey, Ko." Noriko stopped her gushing about cosplay sewing techniques and turned to Alexandera. The Chef put on her best sad face. "Timmy's tummy is upset. Mind checking him out? You got that motherly instinct." Alexandera could almost see Noriko's eyes dilate before she was suddenly on the other side of the table, hand to Drake's forehead, cooing over him, offering to make him something to ease his stomach. Cassandra tapped the table, getting the rest of the batfams' attention, signing.
'I like her, she's good.' Shoulders bouncing in humor.
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