Villains • Bruce Wayne

Chapter 4 - Gotham's Finest

   Whoever said God didn't play favorites was a dirty liar. As far as Gotham and Metropolis were concerned, only one of the cities had a constant shrowd of rainfall and enough violence to qualify as one of Dante's circles. But at least I didn't have S.A.D. because I swear Gotham never experienced any real daylight. No wonder Bruce Wayne was aging so nicely - absolutely no sun. 

   "Excuse me," I panted, picking up the pace as I passed an elderly woman on the street, my boots splashing against the wet and uneven pavement. There was no time to deal with slow walkers. I didn't mean to be rude, but Pamela had time anxiety and I was in no mood to trigger her by being late to our coffee date. 

   Looking down at my raindrop-covered phone screen, I could see that fifteen minutes had passed since the time we'd set to meet. I should have chosen a hotel closer to where we'd be meeting, but Gotham had a shortage of safe hotels outside of the downtown area and unfortunately for Pamela, a Holiday Inn Express just wasn't going to make the cut. Especially not with all the jewelry and shoes I had brought. Truthfully speaking, I had no business packing two full carry-ons for a one-night trip, but I would much rather watch the world burn than show up underdressed to an occasion with Bruce Wayne. I hated to admit it, but he was making me up my game as far as business proposals were concerned. 

   Out of breath from jogging, I only quickened my pace as the coffee shop came into view. Through the glass windows, I could make out the fiery red hair of the woman I'd come to see - I only hoped I hadn't kept her waiting for too long, or else it wouldn't be this city burning, but me. I loved her, but she certainly had a bit of a temper when provoked. 

   The bell over the door announced my arrival and I hurried to the table where I'd seen her. 

   "Pamela," I panted through my smile, boots squelching as I approached. Black dots speckled my vision as my body tried to keep up with the physical turmoil I'd just put it through. I really had to up my cardio because this was just embarrassing. "I'm so sorry I'm late."

   She eyed me, taking in my rain-soaked appearance and offering a tentative smile. "It's fine, I was just telling the waiter how to care for the plants," she turned her head to scrutinize the array of greenery next to our table. They looked perfectly fine to me, but I wasn't the botanist between the two of us, nor the Ph.D. candidate in all things green. 

   "Speaking of," I said, draping my wet coat over the back of my chair and taking a seat. An immediate blanket of warmth covered my damp pants and I relaxed back into my chair, only to find a coffee cup being pushed towards me. I smiled gratefully at my friend. She knew my order better than anyone else - triple espresso americano with oat milk and a generous dose of honey.  "How's the thesis coming?"

   "Great," she said, smiling wide and nearly causing a passing waiter to trip over himself. I tried to hide my smile as best as I could, but there was no point. This wasn't the first time nor would it be the last. Pamela was beautiful and whether it was with their words or physically, men were always stumbling around her. "Although, I nearly dropped one of Dr. Ruewood's vials yesterday when we were testing on ivy plants. Pretty sure it was entirely toxic."

   "That's not like you." Taking a sip from my coffee, I nearly let out a sigh - it was goddamn perfect. 

   The rings on her fingers tapped against her cup as she adverted her gaze from mine. 

   "I haven't been sleeping well lately," she informed. 

   I looked at her and took a moment to really look at her. The lack of sleep was evident under her eyes, and if it were anyone else I might have deduced it to be the side-effects of a stressful doctorial program, but this wasn't just anyone. And I'd seen this look before... much too often.