Poker Face | Bruce Wayne

thirty six

"He... says it's important."

Batman supposed he'd take the bait. "Who's he."

"Devin Elias."

Batman paused. That had definitely not been who he'd expected. "It can w—"

Now it was Bruce who faltered. What if Devin was hurt? What if someone from his family was hurt—

No. No, Devin only calls for stupid reasons. It's never anything important. Don't answer. Don't answer. Don't—

He bit back an annoyed growl. "Send it through."

Stupid Devin Elias. Stupid Devin Elias for forcing him to briefly stop being Batman. Stupid Devin Elias, making Bruce care. Batman didn't care about people like that.

Bruce could see on his visor that the call had connected.

"Hellooo?" sang the overly cheerful voice of Devin.

If the older man were there in person, Bruce would've punched him. He was calling for something stupid. Just as Bruce had suspected. Should've listened to the Bat.

He scanned the street again to see when the van would be near its destination. About two minutes.

Bruce tried to fill his voice with all the venom in the world, not that it would particularly deter Devin. "What."

And of course, the Florida billionaire didn't get the hint. Actually, he probably did but chose to continue, anyway.

"Short Stuff! Your secretary sounds different than I remember— did you fire Dana?"

"What do you want."

"Well, that depends. Are you busy right now?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, your secretary told me."

Fire shot through Bruce's veins. The criminals needed to hurry up— he needed to punch something. He shouldn't have been using names from outside the cowl, but it was slipping off of Bruce's tongue before he could stop it. "Devin—"

"Kidding, Shortie. Kidding. Listen, I have a favor to ask of you—"

A black van was suddenly screeching around the corner. Bruce checked the tracker. A minute earlier than expected. It came to a halt and two men flung open the doors, walking around to the back. Bruce crouched into position.

"—and I know you're probably gonna say no at first, but I promise you it's important—!"

Another van appeared from the opposite end of the block. The trade-off car. It was white.

The men from the black vehicle ripped open the back doors, revealing eight women all uncomfortably bound and shoved together. Bruce squared his brows. From what he could see, the men each had two guns, .22's, probably another beneath their waistbands judging by the way they hunched when they walked. They began tugging the shrieking women from the van.

The white van was coming to a stop near them. He just had to wait until every woman exited the car, but before the men in the other vehicle got there.

So far, six women were out.

The white van was rolling to a halt.

"So, Mare and I were hoping to use the Manor for a Halloween Party— you know, like the ones your parents used to throw?"

Seven women.

"We figured it would be a great tradition to bring back! Thought my mom could help decorate 'n stuff like she used to do with Martha?"