(no subject)
Part Four
Chloe used her GPS to locate the docks, and determine the best place to stash her car. She arrived on site at 10:53 pm, just in time. She’d shed her coat in the car, and the sunglasses now adorned her eyes. Clasped around her waste was a lightweight utility belt, upon which Chloe had hooked a flash light, her GPS and some pepper spray. Unlike the rest of her outfit, which had originated from a lab housed within Queen Industries, the belt had been a gift from her Uncle Sam for her last birthday. Most importantly, hidden inside one of the belt’s pockets was a digital camera the size of a credit card. Tonight’s outing would be useless unless she had proof of whatever plot the Joker had cooked up.
As she approached the docks, she was graced with a scene she’d become familiar with : six men wearing horrible clown masks had gathered down by one of the cargo ships.
Presumably they had yet to receive their orders, as they all stood around listlessly. Although her place above the marina provided a perfect view of the scene, Chloe could not hear anything that was being said. If she hoped to learn anything she’d have to get closer to the group.
Careful not to be seen, Chloe crept downwards. The maze of cargo containers that surrounded the port provided cover as she approached. Finally, she hid behind a large metal crate. Peaking around the side, she could see the men had formed a semi circle around one of their own approximately 15 m away. Chloe listened as the man explained what needed to be done.
“In about five minutes, a ship with arrive from Coast City. It’s carrying 500 kilos of heroine. The bags need to be loaded into these trucks,” the man indicated two unmarked, windowless vans parked off to the side. “You’ll get paid when it’s all loaded, if there’s no trouble. Understand?”
The men nodded.
“I need two guys to stand watch while we’re loading.”
He scanned through the people, “You and you,” he said, indicating some burly men at the back of the crowd. He pulled two semi-automatics from a container beside him, and handed them over to his selections.
Passed the men, Chloe could see the ship approaching the dock. It was a moderate sized sail boat. The men watched anxiously as it inched closer to the shore. Chloe imagined many of them were eager to get the job done and get out of here. Maybe they were desperate for the money, like Frank, and would go home to their families as soon as they could. Chloe frowned and wished they would realize that working for people like the Joker was not worth the risk.
The boat docked, and the men started unloading the cargo. The man in charge got on the boat, and took off his mask to talk with the transporters. Probably planning their next drug run. The thought made Chloe grit her teeth. It was men like him Chloe hated the most. They preyed on the vulnerable in order to further themselves, and as a result, perpetuated the poverty and desolation of places like the Narrows.
Well, Chloe thought, let’s see how long you can flood the streets of Gotham with drugs once this hits the front page of the Gotham Gazette.
Chloe pulled her digital camera out, and zoomed in on the man’s face. She snapped a couple shots, and then zoomed out and took some pictures of the scene unfolding in front of her. Luckily, the ‘guards’ were completely incompetent, often looking back at the men unloading opposed to monitoring their surrounding environment.
After she was satisfied with the images, Chloe hid back behind the crate and pulled out her cell phone, and a business card that had crumpled at the edges. Commissioner Gordon needed to know what had happened here tonight, so she’d just make an anonymous tip and be on her way for the evening.
She may have been holding front page news in her camera, but none of Chloe’s questions had been answered. She still had no direct evidence linking the Joker to the murders, and Chloe very much doubted that the Joker had even had a hand in organizing this deal. It was too ordinary, a crime boss smuggling drugs. Perhaps the clown masks were worn to cast blame on an already established villain? In any case, Chloe decided it was time to call it a night. Her fingers were poised to dial the number, when suddenly gunshots went off behind her.
Chloe whirled around and watched in horror as the men standing guard turned their guns on the workers. The four men didn’t even have a chance to blink before they were gunned down.
What the hell was going on?
“Good job, boys,” an annoyingly familiar voice congratulated from the shadows. The men turned as a woman dressed up as a harlequin emerged from behind another metal crate and approached them. If Chloe’s suit was tight, then this girl had on a second skin. It was half black and half red with the traditional cap to match. Her face was painted haphazardly, reminiscent of the Joker’s signature look with black rimmed eyes and an unnatural red grin. Who was this girl?
“Just like you said, boss,” the man in charge announced. “There’s more money, now that there’s only four of us.”
“Oh, Silly!” the girl laughed. Chloe winced. Her voice was achingly, gratingly familiar.
“Didn’t I mention,” she continued, the emotion gone from her voice, “there’s only two vans?”
Then the guards turned their guns on him.
“Thanks guys,” the girl chuckled while she watched the man’s body crumple to the ground. “You’re peaches, the pair of you! Now scoot, daddy’s waiting.”
The men shouldered their guns, and caught the sets of keys she tossed at them. As the men walked to the vans, Chloe frantically shoved her cell phone away and grabbed for her digital camera. She started taking pictures of the woman who’d suddenly arrived. With an outfit like that, Chloe noted, she had to be working for the Joker.
The engines of the vans revved, as the two men started them up and began to drive away.
“Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .” the woman started counting down loudly. Chloe watched intently as she neared the end. “. . .one . . . zero.”
A massive shockwave sent Chloe tumbling to the ground as both vans erupted in flames.
What was she doing? Chloe thought hysterically. She’s just destroyed all of their product and she’s killed all of her men. What is going on?
Chloe had no time to contemplate further, as when she peeked out at the woman, she was running directly for her. Shit.
As she neared Chloe’s hiding space, she suddenly bent forward and gracefully executed a front flip onto the crate. Seconds later she was grinning evilly down at her. “Now what do we have here?” she asked rhetorically. Chloe looked up at the girl, her eyes immediately drawn to the angry scars at the corners of her mouth. The voice suddenly clicked.
“Harleen?” Chloe exclaimed in surprise.
The woman didn’t acknowledge the label, and instead questioned. “Are you a reporter, young lady? I hate reporters. Always sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong. I think I should teach you a lesson.”
This statement immediately kicked Chloe’s flight instincts into high gear, and she took off at a run, heading towards where she’d parked her car. “Don’t tire yourself out, love,” Harley called as she jumped easily from crate to crate, parallel to Chloe’s path. “I’ve been in gymnastics since I was two,” she informed her. “A prodigy, they called me. You don’t have a chance.”
The malice in Harley’s last statement was palpable, and spurred Chloe on. She suddenly veered off the path up to the street, and started to scale the hillside in a more direct route to her car. As there were no crates stacked in this direction, Harley was forced to pursue Chloe by more conventional means. Thank god for all those morning runs with Bart, Chloe thought as she steadily increased the distance between herself and the crazy woman perusing her.
Chloe emerged from the marina, back into the Narrows. She cut down an alley way, and arrived on the side street where she’d parked her car. With her last bit of energy, Chloe sprinted for her vehicle. She was almost there, just a couple more feet. When she arrived and hopped in the driver’s side door, she was dismayed to see that all the wiring had been pulled out under the steering wheel. Chloe threw her head back in frustration, and noticed that hastily scribbled across the windshield in red lipstick was the message, “I HATE LIARS.”
Chloe knew that writing! It was the same as was on the threat she’d received earlier today. Shit. That meant Harley knew who she was even before she’d visited Arkham. Not good.
“So you’re a grad student, huh?” came a question from Chloe’s left. She turned, and saw Harley approaching. “Are you doing some field research? Observing criminals in their natural habitat?”
Chloe got out of the car and circled around to the other side, placing the vehicle between them. Chloe could hear sirens in the distance. The police were on their way to investigate the commotion at the docks. She ignored the question and asked, “Harleen, why are you doing this?”
“I want to help him, Penelope. This is the only way I know how.”
The him Harley was referring to was obviously the Joker. She was a loyal servant to him. The link to the outside the Joker would need to be involved in the murders.
“By wreaking havoc on Gotham?” Chloe asked, and then took a chance, “By murdering people and framing Batman?”
Harley grinned. “So you figured that out, huh? Between you and me, I’m not as good a person as he is. When he said to me, go help the people of Gotham like I’ve helped you, I got really jealous. Why should he care about anyone else? He had me, didn’t he? That’s why I killed them. I didn’t want them to be happy like I was. These,” she indicated her scars, “are what link us. No one else can have them and live. No one.”
“Was it the Joker’s idea to frame the Batman?” Chloe asked. All she had to do was keep her talking. If she kept Harley distracted, maybe Chloe could find a way to escape.
“Yeah,” Harley admitted. “I could care less about the guy. But Jack insisted. That’s his name, you know? Jack. He really wants the people of Gotham to hate the Batman, to see that Batman and the Joker are the same.”
“Why didn’t you stop at just Gotham? Why did you target Metropolis as well?”
“Don’t ask me. He named the cities, and I took the day trips. Had to burn a helluva lot of vacation time, too.”
“Cities? You’ve been doing this in other cities?”
“Oh yeah. New York, Star City, Metropolis, Keystone City, Coast City. I’ve been everywhere.”
Those are all heroes’ cities, Chloe realized, but doubted the thought had occurred to the woman before her.
“So, it’s been fun chatting,” Harley said, and tapped a non-existent watch on her wrist. “But would you look at the time! I’ve got to run. It’s been fun.”
Harley began to advance on her, when suddenly a black, cloaked figure landed noisily on the roof of Chloe’s car.
I’ll never have the money to fix that, Chloe thought desperately. She looked up at her saviour and without thinking yelled, “Why couldn’t you have landed on the ground?!”
The figure, which had been crouching, drew up to it’s full height and turned towards her. It was the Batman, and he looked as imposing and formidable as all of the eyewitness accounts Chloe had read, save for the slight quirk of his mouth as he looked at her. It was a bloody life or death situation, and Batman was smirking at her.
He turned back to Harley.
“Gotham’s filled it’s costumed lunatic quota, and he’s behind bars.”
“That’s what you think,” she muttered, before whining, “Who invited you to the party, anyway? I was just starting to have some fun.”
“I wasn’t!” Chloe objected. “I wasn’t having fun at all!”
“So I gathered,” came the stoic reply.
Ok, so he wasn’t Mr. Personality, but at least he was standing between her and the crazy lady.
“I thought this might happen,” Harley stage whispered to Chloe. “The Batman has the tendency of showing up where he isn’t wanted. I’ve been pretty lucky in the past, though,” she gloated.
Chloe saw the ghost of a frown, before the Batman responded, “Your luck’s about to change.”
He leapt from the roof of the car, towards Harley, but the girl was too fast. She tumbled away in a series of flips, and then grinned at him as she stuck her landing.
“A good thing I came prepared.”
And for a moment Chloe could have sworn she was looking at the face of the Joker as an expression of pure malicious glee graced her features. Seemingly from nowhere, because where could she have hid it? The woman withdrew a handgun and pointed it straight at Chloe.
“You really shouldn’t have lied to me,” she said, before pulling the trigger.
In a flash, Chloe was enveloped in a firm grip with Kevlar scratching her cheek and she was also pretty sure they were flying. When she was finally released from Batman’s hold, Chloe saw that he had propelled them onto the fire-escape of a neighbouring apartment building. Scanning the street, she noted bitterly that Harley had managed to escape.
“So,” Chloe started, breaking the silence. “Thanks for the save.”
No response. Another beat of silence, and then, “Can you take me back down to my car?”
The Batman complied, also in silence, and used a nifty line on his utility belt, which Chloe grudgingly admitted to herself was way cooler than her own, to lower them to the ground.
When he released her, Chloe quickly walked over to her car to inspect the damage. Two large, foot-shaped dents had destroyed the roof of the cabin, and the force of the Batman’s impact had managed to shatter both windshields.
“You owe me a new car!” Chloe called angrily to the man, who’d been observing her. He approached her then, and responded in his signature raspy voice, “I distinctly remember saving your life about a minute ago. I think we’re even.”
He was right, Chloe shouldn’t be complaining, these were the hazards of investigation, as she well knew. She’d just have to dip into the League’s emergency fund. It’s not like anyone else was around to use it anyway.
“Well, I think you owe me a ride to my hotel, at the very least,” Chloe amended. Her curiosity got the better of her then and she continued, “How did you manage to show up in the knick of time, anyway? Weren’t you distracted by all the chaos down at the docks?”
“I have my ways,” he answered, mysteriously. And that’s all Chloe could remember before blacking out.
* * *
Chloe awoke groggily the next morning. Her head ached, and she had to fight to keep her eyes open. Eventually, she sat up in bed, and looked around. She was back in her hotel room. But how had she gotten here? The last thing she remembered was questioning the Batman, and then . . . That asshole.
Chloe glanced at the clock, and did a double-take. She was late for work! Newly energized, Chloe hopped out of bed. As she pulled a skirt and jacket from the closet, Chloe noticed her bodysuit had been hung carefully, and quickly looked down at herself. She was in a matching short and tank top pyjama set that Chloe remembered was in her suit case. Well! Chloe was going to hunt down Batman, and they were going to have a serious talk about boundaries.
After dressing, Chloe quickly phoned Andrea and informed her of last night’s activities, but something about her run in with Harley had been bugging her.
“She targeted heroes’ cities, Andrea, and no one bothered to check what was happening in Gotham.”
“Unfortunately, Chloe, Batman has never been a team player. I’ve worked in Gotham only by shear force of will. The Joker wanted to isolate Batman from the only people who could help, other heroes, by framing him for the murders. Batman has always toed the line between hero and villain, and I guess it wasn’t so hard for others to condemn him.”
Andrea allowed what she said to sink in, before she reiterated, “It’s his greatest flaw, his inability to ask for help, which is why I think you should stay in Gotham.”
“But Andrea, you know I can’t stay here. Lois is¾”
“Back,” Andrea finished.
“What?”
“She showed up at the Planet this morning, with Clark Kent following close behind, business as usual. She hasn’t called you?”
“No.”
After the reveal of Lois’ return, Chloe shut down. She responded in grunts when Andrea said she would be on her guard for any clown like villains that set their foot in Metropolis and would get the word out to her contacts in the cities Harley had mentioned the night before. When Chloe hung up, she noticed a blinking light on the phone beside the bed, indicating she had a message. She again pulled the receiver to her ear, hoping to hear Lois’ voice.
“Hello there. This is Marianne from guest services. I’m calling to inform you that a package was dropped off at the front desk for you at 2:47 am. You can pick it up at the reception desk in the lobby.”
Chloe put the receiver down, and checked her cell phone. No messages. She tried Lois’ cell, but got no answer. Angrily, she threw her phone in her purse ran out the door. She’d try again when she got to the Gazette.
As she passed, by she noticed that the man watching the elevator last night had left, and was replaced by a fresh-faced young man. Chloe had to wonder how two separate men could miss a strange man in a bat suit carrying her unconscious form into her hotel room? Given Batman’s propensity for soaring through the air, it was possible he had brought her in through the balcony. But Chloe had made sure it was locked before she’d left her room, the previous night, and she’d seen no damage to the window that morning.
She took the elevator to the lobby and stopped by the front desk to pick up her package.
“Room number?” a man asked this time.
“821,” Chloe supplied.
A quick clack of the keys. “Name?”
“Penelope Payne.”
“Can I see your key card?”
He took it from Chloe, and swiped it down the computer monitor.
“Security code?”
“The Daily Planet,” Chloe said confidently.
“Thank you,” the man responded. He left her then, to go get Chloe’s package.
As Chloe stood at the front desk, she watched the other patrons milling around the lobby. Most of them were heading for breakfast in the dining room, and Chloe’s stomach groaned in protest.
“Hungry?” came a voice from her right, and Chloe saw that Bruce Wayne had sidled up to her. “The quiche here is amazing. The best breakfast in all of Gotham.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m already late for work,” Chloe informed him, glad for the excuse.
“Maybe next time.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about work. I already cleared it with your boss.”
Chloe’s eyes whipped towards him and she asked sharply. “You what?”
“Well not so much cleared it with your boss. More that I am your boss. You see, Wayne Industries holds the majority share of the Gotham Gazette. And just so you know, I will not let you leave this lobby without eating.”
“Oh, and you can manage that because you own the hotel as well, is that right?” Chloe asked sarcastically.
“In fact, I do,” Bruce smirked.
Chloe rolled her eyes. Of course he did. At that moment, the man returned with her package. It was an unmarked manila envelope. With a sense of déjà vu, Chloe backed away from the front desk and hastily ripped it open. She pulled out another glossy black and white photo, this one of Chloe arguing with Harley over the roof of her car. In the same red paint, written across the bottom was the message, “Welcome to the game.”
The writing was not Harley’s, but Chloe had an idea of whose it was. But he was still locked in Arkham, how had he managed . . .
“Chloe,” Bruce intoned from above her shoulder. “We need to talk.”
Chloe turned towards him and demanded, “How do you know that name?”
Then everything made sense. Bruce owned the hotel and the Gazette. Andrea hadn’t pulled any strings, Bruce had set up everything. He’d arranged for her hotel room, an entire floor if her suspicions were correct, and her internship. He was the man Andrea mentioned, he was the one having her watched.
“We can discuss everything over breakfast,” he said. The joking playboy was gone, and in his place stood a man aged from the weight of a great responsibility. It was a look she saw mirrored on the face of all of her friends, Oliver, Dinah, Clark, when they didn’t know she was watching.
She followed him silently to the dining room. Bruce had a word with the hostess when they arrived, and they were sat in a private corner of the restaurant, away from the prying eyes and ears of the other diners.
As soon as they were left alone with their menus, Chloe pounced.
“Why am I here, Mr. Wayne?”
Bruce sighed. “Ever since Harvey Dent’s murder, the police have interfered with the efforts on the part of the guardian of this city. I’m sure you’ve heard of Batman?”
She’d more than heard about him.
“Wasn’t it just yesterday you were financing a task force to hunt down said guardian?”
Bruce grinned. “The people believe Batman is a murderer, and they expect Wayne Enterprises to step in. I don’t have a choice. But that’s why I’m recruiting your help. As you probably know, the Angel of Vengeance has traveled to Gotham on more than one occasion. When I approached her about returning on a more permanent basis, she claimed that Metropolis needed her, and that’s when she suggested you. I made all the arrangements, and she got you here.”
Chloe balked at the man. “But I’m not a hero. At least, not in the traditional sense. I’m an investigator . . . A journalist,” Chloe declared. “I uncover the truth so that the proper authorities can take care of it. I don’t think I’m what you need.”
“On the contrary, Chloe. I know you are exactly what Gotham needs. Batman needs to realize he would do more good if he had someone else fighting with him. He’s more than capable of supplying the muscle.”
“And you think Batman would accept my help, just like that?”
The thought had been niggling in the back of her mind when she met him in the lobby this morning, but now Chloe was almost positive that Batman and the man before her were one in the same. He had the same strong jaw line, and thin lips as the hero, and the trim body housed beneath his suit spoke to his strength. His hands, Chloe remembered, were work worn, which spoke to his dedication. Finally, he spoke intimately of details Chloe doubted anyone but the hero himself would know, and Bruce Wayne was not be the first billionaire Chloe had met with a penchant for vigilante justice.
Gazing at the man, Chloe decided she’d keep this conclusion to herself for the time being. She doubted Bruce would be happy she’d figured out his secret, and decided she would learn more if she kept her cards close to her chest. Besides, it seemed hardly fair that Bruce presumably knew a lot about her, and she very little of him.
“I do,” he declared.
Chloe was saved from refusing his proposal immediately by the arrival of their waiter. She couldn’t leave Metropolis. It was her home, and it needed her. She had a purpose there, and she couldn’t just abandon it. He took their orders quickly, and walked away. Bruce turned his eyes towards her.
“The fact of the matter is,” Bruce continued, “you’re a part of this now. The Joker has his sights set on you, and city limits won’t change that. That’s been made clear.”
Suddenly, Chloe’s cell phone began jingling to the tune of ‘I love Rock and Roll’. That was Lois’ ring tone! Without thinking of propriety, Chloe ignored the man in front of her and quickly pulled her cell phone from her purse and brought it to her ear.
“Hello?” her voice quivered in hope.
“Chloe!” greeted her cousin. “Where the hell are you?”
“Lois! Oh my god. Are you all right? Where have you been? I’ve been driving myself crazy looking for you!”
Lois had the audacity to laugh. “I told Clark we should let you know where we were, but he didn’t want anyone to be able to track us down. Chloe, we were in Paris and I had the time of my life.”
“Lois, you’ve been missing for weeks! How long have you been with Clark?”
“What do you mean weeks?” Lois asked in disbelief. “Chloe, it was only a five day trip. I’m back at the Planet this morning.”
Weird, but there was probably some Kryptonian explanation that would make sense of everything.
“You’re back at work? But you left without telling anybody, including Tess. In fact, she was the last one to see you before you disappeared. She said she’d fired you.”
“Oh, cuz! You and me both know the Planet’s nothing without me. She had to take me back if she wanted to start selling papers again. And you missed the best story! Our plane back from France hit some turbulence. I was sure it was going to crash, but then the blur came out of nowhere and guided our plane to the ground. Clark was in the bathroom and missed the whole thing. I don’t know how he plans to be a reporter, if he’s never around when the news breaks.”
Lois kept talking, happy to recount all of her various adventures, but Chloe wasn’t listening. Lois was back, had been back for days, with Clark. And neither of them thought to call her, thought to let her know they were alright and she could stop worrying. Finding them had been her whole life for the past couple weeks, and both of them returned and slid effortlessly into their old lives without a thought about her. Lois’ life moved happily forward while her’s had imploded. Lois had everything, and now that her search was over, Chloe had nothing.
Soundlessly Chloe shut her cell phone, and tossed it back in her bag. And looked up at Bruce, who was eyeing her strangely. She reconsidered his proposal. There was nothing tying her to Metropolis anymore. Lois and Clark were back, more than happy to take over and safeguard the city, with Andrea around to pick up the slack. She had no job, no family other than Lois, no friends after the stunt Clark had pulled. No future, Chloe realized with surprising clarity, unless Chloe did something to change that.
“I accept,” Chloe answered finally, choosing to ignore Bruce’s questioning look over her outburst on the phone. “On two conditions, I’m nobody’s sidekick and I design the costume.”
The end! Phew!
.