Fic: Splintered, Part Five
Part Five: With Friends Like These...
Author's Note: Thanks to
paulasj and Djinn for the betas.
Part Four
The Womb is quiet for once, Bruce thought, as he made his way toward the commissary, the only place to get a decent cup of coffee on the Watchtower. Not much must be happening planetside.
The commissary was practically deserted; its only occupants were Wally and Clark, who were sharing a table and perusing a magazine intently.
Great. A tabloid. I can only imagine the contents. I know Wally’s into that crap, but Clark?
As he approached their table, he saw the headline: "Fly Me to the Moon, Diana!" and a photo of them floating above the Murciélago the previous night.
He went straight for the coffee pot, feeling their regard at his back. Pursing his lips, he turned around to face them.
"Gentlemen."
Clark and Wally looked up, looked at him. And then they glanced at each other with identical expressions of evil glee.
"Bruuuuuuce!" Clark exclaimed in his awful falsetto.
"Diaaaana!" Wally returned. They stared into each other’s eyes with mock devotion and sighed. Then Clark scooped Wally up and flew up and around, tossing his head and his imaginary flowing tresses.
Clark deposited Wally into a chair that materialized amid a flash of red, and then sat next to him.
They both burst into laughter. Clark had to float away to keep from falling off the chair.
"I’m outta here, man," was all Wally could say as he wiped his eyes, still shaking from laughter.
Clark was still guffawing. "Yeah, I’d better go before Batman shoves that Kryptonite ring up my -"
"Asshole," Bruce muttered, pouring coffee into a Styrofoam cup with as much dignity as one could perform such an operation. Suddenly, a cheering thought occurred to him.
Jealous, guys?
* * *
Coffee consumed (and taunts endured) Bruce was on his way back to the laboratory when his communicator crackled and he heard Mr. Terrific’s voice.
"Batman, report to the transporter room. There’s been a burglary at the Gotham Natural History Museum."
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing him instead of J’onn in that role.
"You’ll meet your team atop the Stevenson Building -"
"I don’t need a team. I’ll handle this myself."
Mr. Terrific continued, as if Bruce hadn’t spoken. "It appears that Circe was involved, so I’ve assigned Zatanna and Wonder Woman."
"Understood. Batman out." Of course - the exhibition of ancient Mediterranean artifacts that’s opening shortly. Something there must have attracted Circe’s interest.
He felt a cold shiver going up and down his spine. God, I hope I don’t have to sing again.
* * *
Bruce materialized on the far side of the roof. As he crossed toward his teammates, he heard their voices on the night breeze.
"I knew you’d known Bruce for a while, but I didn’t realize how long."
Zatanna’s voice was coy. "Oh, he and I go way back. I knew him quite well when we were young - or should I say, he knew me quite well." Even though the shadows hid her expression, Bruce could imagine the smirk that accompanied her quip. He was grateful for the cowl; he could feel his cheeks flushing slightly.
He quickened his pace.
"How -" Diana began, but Bruce cut her off with a growl.
That’ll be quite enough, Zatanna, thank you. "Glad to see you’re both focused on the mission. Let’s go."
Still smirking, Zatanna spoke. "Sdniw esir, yrrac su ot eht dnuorg."
They floated down to the street in perfect silence. The police had already cordoned off the area and flashing lights were everywhere. Bruce approached the nearest officer and addressed him without preamble.
"Who’s the officer in charge? What have you found? Where’s Circe?"
The cop’s eyes darted from Bruce to his companions, then back. He swallowed quickly. "Um, there’s no sign of… of Circ -"
"Then how do you know she was involved?" Bruce retorted.
"Because of this," Commissioner Gordon broke in, holding up a guard’s hat with two squeaking mice. "We found them inside their uniforms… wait." He tapped the earpiece of his headset. "Gotta go. Let me know what you find." And he hurried off, already deep in conversation. The cop followed.
Bruce leaned over to examine the mice - perfectly normal white mice, except for their incongruously chagrined expressions.
The ghost of a smirk on his lips, he handed the hat over to Zatanna. She started back when she saw the mice, quickly passing it to Diana. The Amazon took the hat, nonplussed.
Bruce regarded Zatanna. "You’re afraid of mice." It wasn’t the ghost of a smirk anymore.
Payback, babe.
"It’s… it’s not like they terrify me or anything. I mean…"
Ignoring them, Diana appeared to be listening intently to one of the mice.
"So what’s he got to say?" Bruce asked, pointedly disregarding Zatanna’s protests.
Diana straightened up. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" Bruce’s right eyebrow shot up.
And it was Diana’s turn to smirk. "He’s too mad to speak. At least, that’s what she told me."
"Cat got his tongue?"
Zatanna sighed through her clenched teeth. "The mission. Remember?"
"Funny you should mention cats," Diana interjected.
"Don’t tell me -" Bruce said.
"Yes, he said Catwoman was there as well. Maybe that’s why Circe changed the guards into mice. You know her - no laugh too cheap."
After a brief, uncomfortable silence, Zatanna spoke up. "Changing them back will take some time. Diana, why don’t you ask them if they mind coming with us, and if they’re willing to answer some more questions as we investigate?"
Diana leaned over and listened for a moment. "Jennifer and Jamal say that’s okay - and to remind you that they still understand English. Oh, and if someone can call Jamal’s wife and let her know that he’ll be late, he’d really appreciate it."
"You know, Circe’s probably watching this on the crystal ball and laughing her ass off," Zatanna groused.
I was wrong. I really do hate magic.
* * *
"You’re sure that’s all they took?" Bruce asked again, perplexed.
The harried curator absentmindedly ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. "Um, yes. The inventory system is very good. The only two things stolen were a double flute and an alabaster flask."
"That’s not much of a haul - certainly not for Catwoman. Circe’s a musician, though - maybe the flute…"
Diana appeared thoughtful. "Do you have any pictures of these artifacts available?"
Bruce smiled slightly; he liked to see Diana using her head as well as her muscle.
The curator appeared almost offended. "My dear lady, all pieces are photographed from every angle and a holographic image is constructed and stored. Just give us a moment to set it up."
"And video of the break-in?" Diana continued, hopefully.
The curator paused, downcast. "Sadly, the perpetrators seem to have disabled all the security cameras just before the crime."
"Could I have the file for that time period?" Bruce asked.
The curator appeared confused. "Mr… er, Batman, we have looked at it already. It is just static; no pictures. As I said, the sensors were all disabled."
"Humor me."
He sighed. "I’ll have the technicians download all of it to a DVD for you. And I’ll put the holograms of the pieces on it as well", he continued, regarding Diana. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to the Museum Director. He’ll want to know everything before he calls Lloyd’s." And he hurried off.
Bruce waited for him to get out of earshot. Then he turned to Diana, with a tight smile. "We’ll see about no pictures."
"What do you mean?"
"I installed a few cameras myself - they’re not on the blueprints and they’re tiny. Their feed is encrypted in the same file as the other cameras. It only looks like static. Nobody knows about them except me." His smile broadened. "And you."
"You’re full of secrets, you know that?"
He started, but caught himself in time. "Just good, healthy paranoia. That’s what Robin called it, anyway."
He heard footsteps and saw Zatanna walking in with two decidedly non-rodent guards - a petite woman of about forty years of age, and a taller man, about thirty. Both wore sheepish, embarrassed expressions and white linens of the kind used to drape over antiques.
"Jamal and Jennifer," Zatanna introduced. "None the worse for wear - no pun intended. We’re still waiting for clothes - their uniforms were taken as evidence downtown." She lowered her voice. "Their street clothes were turned into fig leaves! If I ever get my hands on that woman, I swear -"
"Get in line! She’s bedeviled my people for so long that I deserve the right to first blood!"
Suddenly aware of her teammates’ stares, Diana cleared her throat, looking a little abashed. "Um, think she’s back in Aeaea already?"
"Can we go now?" Jennifer said impatiently. "My sister just got here with some clean clothes."
"Althea still doesn’t believe me," Jamal groaned. "She thinks this is some sort of stupid joke."
Zatanna looked thoughtful. "Let me try something, Jamal. Steehs emoceb tius Evorp lamaj si ton a gniyl krej". Her last words, Bruce noted, were said with a hint of mirth in her voice.
The white sheets writhed and merged and ripped and re-stitched into a white double-breasted suit with a light gray windowpane plaid. Jamal looked down at his sleeve intently, and suddenly started to laugh.
"You’re all right, lady! You’re all right."
Bruce stepped forward and read the words "Jamal is not a lying jerk," which had somehow appeared in every square of the fabric pattern in tiny Gothic script. The background of every square had an embroidered picture of a top hat and wand in front of a capital Z.
She’s always had a unique sense of style. He remembered the way she put her personal touch on every magic act.
"So, are we going to Aeaea to track down that purple-haired witch?" Diana was tapping her foot impatiently - an imposing sight when an Amazon does it, Bruce realized.
"Aeaea sounds like the logical place to start," he said. "Zatanna, why don’t you query your…whatever…and see if you can find out what Circe’s up to? Diana, come with me. Maybe you can determine why Circe and Catwoman stole those particular items."
"Split up and search for clues? I know when I’m not wanted," Zatanna said slyly. "See you around, crooner." And she left, but not before turning her head to deliver a particularly saucy wink.
Bruce glanced over to Diana, who was watching the magician’s departure through narrowed eyes.
Guess Zee didn’t tell you about our "just friends" conversation. Although jealousy doesn’t look too bad on you.
Come to think of it, I’m not sure what would look bad on you.
NOTE: LJ is being weird. Part 5.2