Selina Kyle’s other alter ego, known only to her and most often referred to by the colorful moniker MirrorBitch, regarded her other self with a look of truly bat-like disapproval. “Don’t you give me that shit,”
Selina told her reflection, “I tried to warn them.
I’m not my brother’s keeper, and I’m certainly not my old
boyfriend’s drama queen sister and her bipolar husband’s keeper.
I tried to warn the rogues, I tried to warn the bats, I told them all
what would happen. They. Didn’t. Listen.”
“You’re not listening.” “I am listening, Eddie,” Selina
replied, repeating his complaint thus far as if she was a secretary taking
dictation. “Everybody got entirely the wrong idea about you and Aunt Maud. You admired her for her many fine qualities, not the least of
which was her superlative grasp of the question mark. It was a purely intellectual and yet mutually-rewarding
relationship and they all turned it into something sordid.” “Yes, they did.
Even Batman took a shot about it.
Batman, can you believe it? A cheap
shot!” Selina was bursting to know what the
cheap shot might have been, but she didn’t trust her voice to ask. That was probably just as well, for any comment would have
only prevented Edward Nigma from going on to the real subject of his visit. “I
just want to have a night out with Doris, and she won’t come to the Iceberg
unless—” “Doris is crossword girl?” “Doris is the lovely young lady I
met while she was doing a crossword puzzle, yes.
Do we have to come up with cutesy handles for everybody?” “Eddie, turn around and look at
yourself in that mirror, particularly the sixteen yellow question marks on
your tie,
and four dozen others on your jacket, then ask yourself just how stupid you
must’ve sounded asking that question.” He sighed. “Look at me.
I am Riddler, I am E. Nigma, I am the Prince of Puzzlers. I
query, therefore I am! Selina, why
won’t she see me in action? Why
won’t she be my sidekick?” “Not everybody’s cut out for
spandex, Eddie.” “Doris is.
Selina, you should see. She’s 5’5’’ and a size 2.
She’d be such a luscious Query or Echo.” “Attractive as I’m sure she
would look in a leotard, I meant that not everybody is cut out for the Gotham
nightlife.” “But
I AM, Selina, I am!
I thrive in it. And she
won’t see me there. She won’t
even come to the Iceberg to see me in my element.
So I thought, maybe … well… you could get Bruce Wayne to talk her
into it?” Selina’s face froze, but Nigma didn’t seem to notice. He just went on:
“He’s fit in so well. It’s really your relationship with him that’s
encouraged me to hope things will work out with Doris.” “Um…
ah… er…” She was saved by the telephone.
“Hello…. François! Bon
jour… Oui… Oui, je me rappelle
les, I remember them…. Uh-f course. Of
course. Yes, I’ll be delighted.
Sure, I’ll tell him. Sure,
I’ll tell her too. Okay.
Au revoir. -click-
MERDE.” “That didn’t sound good,”
Eddie observed. “François de Poulignac,” Selina said despairingly. “The French
count that Harley ran off
with?” “Do we have to come up with cutesy handles for everybody?” Selina quoted. “I never got to meet him,
but
the dish was prime! He’s coming
back?” “No.
No, much worse. His sister
Natasha is coming—with her husband. Oh
god, we’re all doomed.” “Why, is this an Aunt Maud
situation? They won’t be able to handle the Gotham thing?” “N-no,”
“‘Will Gotham be able to handle
them?’ What does that mean?” Bruce asked testily, “Have you been hanging
out with Riddler?” “As a matter of fact, yes. That’s not the point. He didn’t get it any more than you
do.” “Selina, I am approximately
five hundred times smarter than Nigma or anybody else you know.
When I ‘don’t get it,’ it’s because there’s nothing to get.” “Oh yeah?
They’re not even here yet and it’s starting already.” “WHAT
is starting already?” “Look, Natasha is a perfectly
lovely woman, except she is slightly more melodramatic than Maria Callas having
a divafit… think Poison Ivy on Prozac! And
Anton, he’s wonderful, except when he gets excited about something, he
makes Ra’s al Ghul sound like Hemmingway.
And even that would be fine except for one thing:
they married each other. And
they’re coming here! Mark my
words, sooner or later they’re going to have a spat. And when that happens,
within six hours, everybody around here is going to know about it. And within an
hour of that, everybody will have an opinion, and within ten minutes of that,
everybody will have taken sides…”
“Is it my imagination, darling,”
Anton deNuit asked his wife as they walked to the baggage claim, “or does it
seem like everyone on the plane was bad tempered by the end of the flight?” “Certainly everyone in First Class
seems to be squabbling,” Natasha answered. “It was that movie, showing a
chick-flick in a closed cabin where a man can’t get away.” “It was a very touching story,
rich in romance, which you might appreciate if you were openminded enough to
give it a try.” “WHAT IS THAT DOING HERE?” Anton
demanded, pointing at the baggage carousel as if he were the hero in a silent
movie indicating the coffin of the Vampire King. “I wanted to bring the
costumes,” Natasha answered evenly, picking up a small, green valise, “so I
did. It doesn’t mean we have to use them.
But at least this way, we have the option.” “The option of putting on absurd
outfits to commit ‘theme crimes?’” “The option of ‘when in Rome,’
having a little fun like the natives do.” “Instead of the perfectly
dignified and lucrative practice of grifting jet-setters in our own element.” “Perfectly dignified, perfectly
lucrative, and perfectly dull. That
harlequin woman made it sound like such fun… Where was the place she told us
all the colorful ones gather, The Icy Lounge?” “That harlequin woman was
insane.” “Icecube,
maybe?
Or Icicle?” “As is
this Nocturna-Thief of the Night business. And what’s more—” “Maybe it was Icing, does that
sound right? The Icing Lounge?” Anton sighed heavily and picked up
the last two bags. “Or was it the Isaac Lounge?” Natasha guessed getting into the taxi. “Eisenberg’s?” she said, as
they checked in at the hotel.
Anton huffed. “Eyes Only,”
Natasha pronounced as
the bellboy brought the luggage to the room. “No, it’s
the Isis Lounge,” she
decided, tipping the bellboy with no actual cash but a warm smile that made his
knees weak. “ICEBERG!!!” Anton screamed once
they were alone. “IT’S CALLED
THE ICEBERG! NOW THAT YOU KNOW,
WILL YOU PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WOMAN, DROP IT ALREADY!
IT’S CALLED THE ICEBERG. LIKE
WHAT SUNK THE TITANIC. NO LIFEBOATS
AND 1500 PEOPLE DROWNED. THE
ICE-BERG LOUNGE!” “Of course, the Iceberg,”
Natasha repeated, pleased to have the name finally, and completely unmoved by
the volume at which it was shouted. Anton huffed again, defeated. His wife said if he coming down with a cold, she’d packed
the nasal inhaler.
OraCom: Channel 00 “One second,
Robin,” Barbara whispered, her fingers …encrypt… …all other links locked out… “OK, Tim, it’s totally
clear,” she announced. “None of them can access this channel ::None of who?
Barbara, we’re the only ones left.
It’s like a haunted house movie! One
by one, everybody’s disappeared.:: “I
know,” she sighed into her mic. “Black Canary said that counterfeiting case led to Montreal and she
didn’t know how long she’d be away. Cassie
wanted to try one of those camps to learn a foreign language by immersion, but she
was scared, so Stephanie went with her.” ::That’s a crock and you know it!
It’s not a ‘foreign’ language, it’s ENGLISH.
She’s got immersion in English every day.
She’s learning as fast as she’s going to. They just don’t want to
be here stuck in the middle of the Batman-Nightwing mess.:: “YA THINK!”
Barbara exclaimed. “Tim, I’ve got the most respected figures in the JLA MAKING UP
reasons to avoid Gotham City! You
know where they allegedly are right now? The
Gamma Quadrant. You know why?
Asterisk-8 is collapsing commercial wormholes to blockade Alpha
Centauri.” ::Gee, that does sound serious.:: “ASTERISK-8? That’s Clark! That’s Clark Kent lying—badly! He’s looking at a keyboard while he makes up an excuse. Asterisk-8, that’d be, what, the son of Ampersand-7 and OpenParenthesis-9? AND HE’S TRYING TO PULL THIS SHIT ON ORACLE!” ::Um, Barbara, I’m wearing an
earpiece. I know you’re pissed,
but could you please not shout?:: “I’m sorry, kid. Azrael is the only one who’s man enough to admit he’s avoiding us. Of course, in his case, it’s not Batman & Nightwing so much as Catwoman working for Grayson Associates.” :: Oh? :: “Yeah, you hadn’t put this
together? Dick’s the only one, in
JP’s opinion, that won’t forgive and forget the AzBat era.
Dick hired Selina, the one person whose mere presence causes him to
make a total ass of himself. Those
two went into business together, Az found stuff to do out of town.”
:: So it’s just you and me.
They’ve all abandoned us. What
happened to not leaving a man behind enemy lines?:: “Now, Tim, it’s not as bad as all that.” ::It’s not?
These aren’t battle conditions? Dick
and Bruce are both mad at you for sending them individually to meet Catwoman and
then each other. Selina’s mad at
them for ‘being fatheads’ and not working it out.
And then there’s this whole other round of Riddler - Doris - Iceberg -
Fop - Alfred that everyone’s pissed about, and I don’t even know what that
IS!!! :: “One
second …OraCom: Channel 00…
re-encrypt… …all other links locked out… …rephase every 30 seconds… “Okay, I wanted to make doubly sure the line was secured. Robin, this can go NO FURTHER EVER, do you understand? If one word of what I’m about to tell you leaks out, I will…” The threat was punctuated by the
high-frequency squeal of an old-fashioned radio receiver. ::
Ergle-gulp.
I understand. Won’t tell a
soul. I swear Barbara. I’ll never tell a soul.:: “Okay then. The rogues have an instant messaging system. Selina’s on it. Bruce knows. Neither of them know that I know. Last Thursday night, I hacked it. Between that, Dick, and Selina I got the whole story. And Tim, you won’t believe this…” Robin’s eyes glazed slightly as
the excited chirping in his earpiece explained that Edward Nigma a.k.a. Riddler
finally brought his non-spandex-wearing girl Doris to the Iceberg under the
impression that Bruce Wayne would be there with Selina. He wanted the girl
to experience
a certain normal factor on her first visit, and indeed see a happy and
well-adjusted Costume/Normal couple. Bruce and Selina didn’t show, and Doris latched on to the only other
“normal” in the place, the bartender Sly. She listened with sympathy to his
tale of a horrific date with Roxy Rocket that confirmed her worst fears. Eddie was less than pleased with Bruce and Selina, but
just as pissed at
Sly. Threats were made, which honked off Oswald because, before Sly, Iceberg
bartenders only lasted a night or two, and if Oswald could put up with Sly
stealing “his precious Roxy” out from under him, Eddie should certainly
be able to deal with this minor setback with a girl he hadn’t even gotten to
second base with (although how Oswald knew that, Oracle couldn’t say).
Then there was something about Scarecrow playing “on the pink team” and Hugo
Strange playing with Barbie dolls that didn’t quite make sense to her
either… ::O…kay,:: Robin said cautiously as
the excited narrative concluded. ::I guess that’s Riddler, Doris, and the
Iceberg explained. But what
about—:: “Fop?”
Barbara cut in, “I’m getting there. Selina
was here the other day talking to Dick, and the two of them didn’t know I
could hear. She said Bruce caught
himself calling Two-Face and Riddler
‘Harvey and Eddie.’
And there might have
been something else about Ivy and Ventriloquist, I’m not sure about that.
But
the upshot is he’s decided the whole Iceberg slumming thing had gone too far,
and if he loses his reputation as a ne’er-do-well and a rake, so be it.” ::Wow.:: “I know.
Quite a change. But it’s not
exactly out of the blue. I mean,
Dick says from the minute he told Selina the truth and dropped the bimbos, it’s been a
matter of time before he gave up the Fop act.” ::I guess.:: “But the surprising thing is Alfred. Alfred is totally pissed.” ::What?
But Alfred hated the Fop.:: “I know, but he hated it because he hated Bruce being thought of that way. He’s mad because Bruce will give it up for a ‘Batman reason,’ i.e. not thinking of rogues as people, but that Bruce’s own dignity wasn’t a good enough reason to end it.” ::Ouch.::
“Can we please for the love of God
get out of this room?” Anton bellowed while Natasha again changed her
earrings. “There,” she cooed, “I like
these better. They match the star
on my handbag.” “Fine, whatever, let’s just
GO!” “Anton,
this is to be my debut as Nocturna. The
look I assume tonight will be the image associated with that name for all
time.” “It’s not ‘for all time,’
it’s for the week and a half until we go home. I can live with that, let’s
just GO ALREADY! The invitation is
for 8:30. We have no idea how long
it takes to get to this Wayne Manor.” “So we’re a little late, so
what? Everyone is late for those
things.” “We’re the guests of honor. Despite the fact that your brother probably chased Selina the
entire time he was here, this Bruce Wayne is throwing a party to introduce us to
Gotham Society. We are not only using
this event to launch our criminal careers as Nocturna and Thief of the Night,
but you’re going to make us late as well?
Doesn’t that strike you as just a trifle rude?”
“The guests of honor are late? I
do call that de classe,” Mrs. Ashton-Larraby sniffed disapprovingly as
she and her son came through the receiving line. “Mother, please, don’t start,”
Randy-quad pleaded. “I only said
I’d be your escort tonight instead of Dad because you promised it wouldn’t
be one of these stuffy deals where everybody stands around judging each
other.” “Randolph, there are times we all
must do what we do not wish to do for the sake of keeping up appearances. You know your father simply could not bring himself to face
Bruce Wayne after that unpleasantness with the foreigner.” “I
know that Mr. Wayne made a special point of inviting you both as a friendly
gesture that there were no hard feelings after the ‘unpleasantness.’ And
I also know that I was assured by both you and Dad that I would not be the only
person in this room under ninety.”
“Randolph, really, you’re not even
the only person under thirty-five.” “Same thing.” “That Drake boy is over by the
punchbowl.” “TIM!
Thank God.” “Nouveau
riche,” Mrs. Ashton-Larraby
sniffed as Randy-quad waved to his friend. Tim was quick to introduce the woman
he was talking with: Renee Montoya, candidate for City Council.
And Montoya was quick to see a potential contributor in Mrs.
Ashton-Larraby
and a campaign volunteer in Randy-quad. She
set to work on recruiting them immediately.
By the time she had finished explaining her platform, the guests of
honor, Anton and Natasha deNuit, had arrived. Tim explained that these were old
friends of Selina Kyle’s. He did
not add, of course, that Bruce was making such an effort to get to know them and
make them welcome in Gotham because he’d resolved to cut off contact with
Selina’s other friends and acquaintances at the Iceberg.
Given only this much information,
Mrs. Ashton-Larraby was predisposed to approve of the deNuits, for she took a
proprietary interest in Bruce and Selina’s relationship since she had announced
their engagement to the social world. She
was not remotely deterred by the fact that the couple did not yet admit they
were engaged. “If the two of them want to go on denying what anybody at all can see just by looking at them together, that’s nothing to me,” she pronounced definitively. Tim’s eyes bulged in disbelief. As an excuse to leave, if only for a moment, he offered to bring Mrs. Ashton-Larraby a drink or canapé. By the time he returned, her opinion on the guests of honor had shifted. Anton deNuit had asked Selina for a tour of the manor, while Natasha latched on to Bruce in a fashion Mrs. Ashton-Larraby found distasteful. “That woman,” she said of the
newcomer, “has a terribly unhealthy pallor.” “She is a bit pale,” Renee
Montoya agreed in suitably non-committal terms for a politician. “Pale.
She’s got, like, no blood
pressure at all,” Randy-quad added more definitively. Within mere minutes of her
introduction to the guest of honor, Mrs. Ashton-Larraby attached herself to Bruce and Natasha,
quite determined that if this presumptuous EuroTrash was going to monopolize
Bruce, she not be left to do so alone.
And since she could not be in two-places at once, the formidable Mrs.
Ashton-Larraby sent her son to inflict himself similarly on Selina and Anton. His father would have leapt at the
chance to spend time with Selina, but Randy wasn’t as adept socially, so he ran to Tim for moral
support. The two of them
disappeared in search of Selina and Anton while Mrs. Ashton-Larraby dug in at Natasha’s side and made
relentless small talk. “Your name is
deNuit?
That’s French for night, isn’t it?” As
meaningless small talk goes, this strategy was a mistake.
For Natasha prattled something about night being the cloak that adorns
mystery with its elegance, starlight in the ebon vault of the sky, and
similar drivel. It taxed Mrs.
Ashton-Larraby’s ability to smile impassively. She motioned to her son and
suggested he try the terrace. Husbands
who wander off at parties, she informed him, are invariably found on the
terrace. But before
Randy could do so, the glass
doors to the terrace were shattered by… well…
the doors were shattered. The…
figure that did the
shattering was… somewhat nondescript. It
was man-sized, man-shaped, and gray. From
head to toe, it was dark gray. Having ripped a curtain from the
wall during his entrance, the intruder spread the fabric out on the floor and
demanded, at gunpoint, the guests place everything of value onto it. The guests, jaded Gothamites all,
did so with an aura of condescension. Most
were already considering how they would tell this story the next day. This
person was obviously here for criminal purposes, for he waved a gun and took
their valuables. Plus, whatever
else that outfit might be, it surely was not a Ralph Lauren tuxedo.
The question was: what WAS it? In a bizarre and puzzling finish,
the PotatoMan allowed Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle, and Natasha deNuit to keep their
valuables. Then he fled. After the nondescript criminal’s
departure, the upper echelons of Gotham society waited for the police with all
the urbane sophistication of party-goers who still have an open bar, a full
buffet, an orchestra, and a mansion full of amusements to while away the time
until they gave their statements. In this atmosphere, Natasha deNuit managed to slip away. Bruce was
trapped as host. But he sent Tim. Soon the police band would pick up the story. Then Oracle
would know. Nightwing and Robin could take it from there.
…to be continued…
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