Batman: The Promise

Chapter 7: Renid S'eiluap

Her whole body was slicked with sweat. She couldn’t tell what she was smelling anymore. Everything had morphed into a chemical soup of coffee, donuts, and bacon. It was normal after working a solid nine hours. What had made it worse was the mugginess of the night. With the rain pouring outside, Harley had figured it’d get colder but things were heating up in the diner and she still had another three hours to go on her double. It wasn’t that she needed the money really, it was more about the quietness, the loneliness. Being around all the regulars in all their shapes and forms seemed to be somewhat calming to her.

Whenever she’d think of the Bat or Joker, she’d end up asking for extra hours and she wanted to make herself exhausted. Exhaustion meant she didn’t have enough time to think about everything. That was good. It wouldn’t be long until even the monotony of the hours could offer her protection from everything. But she decided to stick it out for now.

Paulie had dinged the bell and yelled through for a pair of sunnies with a side of toast and bacon. Harley had skirted over and scooped the plate up and headed to table seven. In the corner she’d noticed there was a rising line of smoke. Strange. Nobody’s allowed to smoke in here. The plate landed on the table with a rattle and the two patrons looked up at her. She was already away from them both, remembering that toxic smell that she wished she couldn’t remember. But it couldn’t be, could it? That deep, chemical stench.

The figure that leant over on the table must have been holding a cigarette. But when Harley placed her hand on the thick, black vest; feeling the warmth beneath it, she knew the truth. The face turned and it was nothing but a black hole filled with teeth that spiralled into a pinprick at the centre. Its hand-like claw gripped her, and sprayed something in her face. For a moment she thought she heard herself choking out the words “fear toxin” but it was too late and she was enveloped into blackness, and sucked through into a mirror-world of existence. Paulie’s Diner became Renid S’eiluap—all the shapes around her were broken, crooked shapes; like mannequins covered in shimmering, broken glass. And then she turned away from the thing that had gripped her and screamed out, surrounded by everything broken and contorted, lumbering for her.

*

“I had made a wonderful roast chicken dinner,” said Alfred, feigning disappointment. Bruce knew better.

“Well I’m sure you’ve put it in the fridge. I’m not one to shy away from sandwhiches, Al. I just felt like a burger really.”

“We have some wonder Aberdeen back at the manor.”

“I was thinking more like Paulie’s.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow.

“Hey,” said Bruce. “Don’t give me that look. I’m allowed to enjoy spur of the moment cravings.”

“I’m sure burgers are all you’re craving, Master Wayne.”

Bruce kept his mouth shut but let off a smirk. Alfred, the one person he couldn’t keep secrets from. He’d walked in on Bruce numerous times while he scanned CCTV of Harley, making sure she kept to her promise—if that was the excuse he could tell himself. It didn’t really matter. Alfred knew him to be Batman, whatever else he was feeling wasn’t as much of a revelation as Bruce imagined it’d be. Although when he first walked in and saw Harley walking home with her shoes in her hands, running her hands across walls, and sleepily stumbling into her apartment, Alfred knew it wasn’t anything more than infatuation. It wasn’t as if Bruce needed to be diligent. Gotham had come back from the dead. It was the literal poster-city of the 21st century. So who cared if he wanted to spend some time looking at Harley? It wasn’t a crime, even if Alfred made it seem like it was sometimes.

He stared out at the neon lights of 44th street and felt a little bit of excitement in knowing he was going to see Harley. It wasn’t anything other than a check-up and to enjoy a burger. He’d have to shake a few hands, have a few pictures taken, and that’d be it. Hopefully Harley wouldn’t be too swamped with work and he could have a somewhat normal conversation with her. That made the excitement flourish further as the car came to a slow halt outside. Alfred appeared with an umbrella and opened the door, goading him out. He stepped out and shook his head at the umbrella.

“Very well, sir.”

“You not hungry, Alfred?”

“Oh I am, but I’m much more antiquated with food that isn’t swimming in grease, Master Wayne. I’ll wait in the car.”

Bruce patted him on the shoulder and walked towards the glass-doors of the diner. Inside was chaos. He was expecting the normal ambience of patrons, coffee, and calmness. But beyond the doors was an exhibition of chaos—a chair was flung towards the glass, shattering it into thick shards. Bruce recoiled and stepped inside. Patrons were screaming wildly, while others were pummelling each other. To the right, on the linoleum floor was somebody rocking back and forth. Fear toxin.

On the counter stood a familiar scene. Harley was wildly kicking people who reached out for her, while she flung plates. From behind her stood a cloaked figure; his fingers like claws. Scarecrow? That was impossible. As Bruce lunged forward towards Harley he dodged a fist, turned it back on itself and sent the owner sprawling across a table with a rattle of clashing metal. Harley saw him and with wide eyes launched a plate directly at him. It shattered across his shirt, and he felt the pang of pain in his chest. Looking down he’d seen that broken shards had stuck into his skin. Superficial, keep moving. Harley’s wild eyes were still on him as he gripped her leg and pulled her down. The Scarecrow wannabe had ran out the back door, but it didn’t matter. He’d have a chance to find him.

Harley thrashed wildly but he caught her in his arms and held her tightly to his chest as he dodged an artillery strike of forks from Paulie who was launching buckets of them from behind the counter. Outside, Alfred was already getting the door open. Harley couldn’t fight against him but he could almost feel her heartbeat, racing like a jackrabbit. She’d spring out of his arms the second she had the chance and he needed to be quick. Within seconds he was out the front door and stepping in the car. Alfred did not ask questions, now was not the time but as they skidded off, Bruce felt Harley’s nails dig into his side.

“Home, Alfred.”

“What happened, Master Wayne?”

“Fear toxin, I think. I’m not sure.”

Harley’s eyes were amber—she struggled to breathe, forcing out gasps of what he thought was pain. Her pupils flitted from left to right as she scanned for something he couldn’t see. But for a brief moment she looked up at him and he placed a hand to her cheek. For the briefest moment there was only the sound of pattering rain on the top of the car, and Harley looking at him with some kind of yearning as if she’d never been under at all. Her teeth flared and he felt the slick of sweat as she thrashed and struggled again. With his other hand, he reached over for the small bar and let the scanner on the side of it do its work. When it flipped, he grabbed a capsule that he’d knew he needed to use at some point, and unfolded it as gently as he could as she trashed. With the pinprick end he jabbed it into Harley’s upper arm and within seconds she melted away and closed her eyes.

Bruce took a breath. “We’ll get her back to the Batcave and see exactly what’s going on here.”

“Very good, Master Bruce.”

Harley’s hand reached for his face quickly, and cupped his cheek. He looked at her bloodshot eyes.

“I knew you’d come for me, Bats.”

And then she slumped down. Bruce moved a little, cleared his throat, and then held her tightly until they passed the gates of Wayne manor. The small hairs on his cheek stood to attention, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. There were more pressing matters that needed to be attended to.