"Look, I just need you to watch the kid for a couple of days Gordon...no I'm not home and I can't tell you where I am...don't worry about it, just make sure she's well fed and clothed. If you have the chance to send her to school...yeah...she's not gonna like it, but it's just for a little while till I sort things out...thanks again Gordon."
Selina tossed the cellphone away from her. There was nothing she wouldn't give to go back home with Holly and have their old lives back, but ever since that woman came into the club asking for Bruce, nothing's been the same. This wasn't the first time Selina had been upended from her home, so it made perfect sense that she always kept a small lineup of other hideouts in the back of her mind. She decided to hide out in her least favorite spot, an apartment rented out on the ritzy part of town, but she knew she and Eli would be well protected by the fact that Selina had made sure to never make an appearance around the area before tonight. She never talked to her neighbors and kept a damn near invisible profile whenever she had to go out for groceries. Before her world was flipped upside down, she kept the place well stacked with provisions and money just in case she and Holly needed a quick escape from the pimps and thugs of the East End.
Selina was hoping the next time she would've seen this place was when she and Holly were cleaning house and taking everything from each hideout to finally move on to their true dream of a life in Paris. She never expected to be virtually stuck in the place as a shady organization stalked her movements while nursing a bedridden assassin. Speaking of which, she went to check on her patient. It had been three days and three nights since Selina carried the near lifeless body of her friend into her home and laid him out on the bed. She tore off the remainders of his tattered clothes and changed him into the only thing she had available: a nightgown. Once she laid Eli's head down on the pillow, it was a fight to keep him alive. One moment his pulse rose too quickly and frightened Selina into a frenzied panic and the next his body was still, pulse nonexistent and his temperature well below normal. Selina didn't know what to do half the time and at one point she swore his pulse stopped. Plenty of times she was tempted to call someone for help, but then quickly remembered no one was suppose to know of their whereabouts.
By the end of the third night she was shocked to find Eli alive and sitting up.
"You're okay. Oh my god, you're okay!" Selina rushed to the bed. She took a seat next to the boy and gathered him into her arms. She wasn't expecting anything and didn't feel hurt when her hug wasn't reciprocated.
"Where am I?" Eli's voice was a raspy low whisper.
"Don't worry, we're safe. No one knows we're here."
"How long was I asleep?"
Selina chose to focus on fixing Eli's hair and brushed several rebel strands behind his ears. When she didn't answer, Eli's cold eyes shot daggers into hers.
"I asked, how long?" he repeated.
"It doesn't matter. You looked like shit and needed the rest." Selina again avoided the question.
"Selina!" Eli's body heaved. His head fell into his hands as his shouting brought up that long stewing headache. He began groaning in frustration, shaking his head and body like a fussy toddler wanting to get up and move about.
"Calm down." Selina took a motherly hand to Eli's face. "Promise me you're not going to freak when I tell you."
Eli silently nodded his head.
"Three days."
Eli shook free of her hold and went to tear off his sheets.
"Where the hell do you think you're going? You're in no condition to be out of bed." Selina fought to tuck the boy back in.
"I...I have to go. I've been away for too long..."
"There's nowhere you need to be other than in this bed."
"Selina--"
"No, you're going to listen to me for a change! I saw pictures of what those freaks did to you. They tortured you and god knows what else. When I found you, you have no idea how terrible you looked. It's only by a sheer miracle that you're still alive and for once in your fucking life you're going to do as I say and stay your ass in this bed."
There wasn't any need for a fight, so Eli gave none. He remained silent, sullen and overall drained of his former pale coloring and spark. His eyes turned down to the sheets and his hands laid unfurled and lifeless. He just didn't care anymore.
"Look, I didn't want to sound hard, but you seriously scared the hell outta me back there. While you were asleep, I could've sworn you actually died a couple of times. I didn't know who to call, or what to do...you staying in bed is the only way I know how to make sure you're still alive and well." sighed Selina. The silence between the two of them spoke volumes. Eli refused to look at anything that wasn't his knees, his face placid and emotionless.
"I...I made you something to eat. It's nothing fancy, just some crackers and soup. If you want, I could boil you up some tea."
"Where's my sword Selina?" Eli whispered. Selina chose to at least come clean about something.
"After you were taken, Batman appeared. He found your sword and...I guess he took it."
This news sparked a small reaction from the boy. His hands finally moved as he twitched his fingers. There was something different about Eli, Selina noticed. She had never seen him so quiet and still before. The experience left her feeling anxious, nervous and curious over what he intended to do. There was no way Eli had forgotten who's fault it was that he was kidnapped in the first place. Selina, though wanting to talk about it, prayed with all her heart and soul that he wouldn't bring it up. The tone of his voice and the chill he sent up her spine told her she should at least make an attempt to breach the subject.
"El, about what happened in the alley...none of this would've happened if I helped you with Zsasz. I froze when I shouldn't have and I'm so sorry."
"There's nothing to apologize for. I've went through worse." Eli shrugged halfheartedly.
"At least now I know who has my weapon and where to go to get it back."
Selina was about to ask how Eli knew where to find Batman, when the boy turned his back to bury himself under the covers. She didn't even get the chance to ask him how he was feeling, but judging from the look in his eyes, she was better off not knowing.
"Yeah, you get some sleep. I'll leave the soup on the table just in case you get hungry."
Selina quietly closed the bedroom door behind her and went into the wide kitchen. She reached for the cupboard above the sink and pulled out a glass, a bottle of wine and went to work drowning her frustrations in sweet blood red alcohol. It was just one date. One date with Bruce Wayne and everything fucked up. Of course she couldn't blame Bruce for what happened with Zsasz (at least, that's what she told herself while she was sober) but the further into the bottle she drank, the more connections she made.
"Eating out in the open...so stupid." she cursed. "I mean, how cheap is the man when he could've invited me back to his place? His mansion! We didn't have to be seen at all and none of this shit would've happened."
Granted Bruce was quite handsome and charming. He had a smile that could charm the pants off of any woman ("and he has"), but now that Selina was alone and not in her preferred home, she began feeling he wasn't worth all the trouble. She wasn't a bad judge of character and had a feeling that there was something internally wrong with Wayne when she first saw his face on television. Everyone in Gotham knew the tragic story of the Waynes and their only surviving son and Selina knew for a fact no amount of money in the world could heal the emotional wounds and broken heart of a boy who watched his parents get gunned down right in front of his face. Selina knew it well: the two faces of abandoned children. One face was the outward appearance. The one that proved to everyone you were fine and that tragedy hadn't taken over your life. You were able to "move on". Then there was the other.
The second face was the real version. All the pain, horror, hatred and anger stored up and carefully controlled. Despite all the headlines, beautiful women and fancy clothes and cars, Bruce was one of these people and so was Eli. Two orphans forced to wear their first faces for the sake of company and appearance. Selina felt terrible. She was a kindred spirit in this pain, yet she didn't try to let Bruce or Eli know she understood. That was the number one rule of Gotham: let on more that you can feel anything. The city and all its demons would devour and destroy every and anyone weak enough to have any type of emotion. Selina had seen it happen before with a girlfriend of hers back in her youth. The stupid girl made the mistake of letting a boy she was dating know she had feelings. The boy traded her soul to the city and Selina's friend was found head first in a back alley dumpster covered in a black plastic bag. Still, it was a heartwarming sensation when broken people found each other in understanding and comfort. Selina had found Holly during a time when both girls were at their lows and the world was about to eat them alive. She had found Eli at a bar on a not so good day back at the club and was fascinated by a young boy who could easily flirt his way to an alcoholic beverage.
The kid was strange to say the least, but Selina knew a broken soul when she saw one and had a habit of taking in strays. It was time to get out of this city. Now that Eli was back, his kidnappers were probably looking for him and judging by their looks, they were crazy enough to hunt him down to the ends of the earth. After her fifth drink, Selina decided she would go get Holly from Gordon's custody and trade her for Eli. Once Holly was back home, they would pack and leave for Paris tonight. Hidden in each safehouse was a handsome amount of money stashed in the walls, the one place no one would've looked. With some much careful deliberation and movement, Selina planned on hitting each house, collect her cash and friend and leave Gotham behind forever. After all, Paris was the epitome of high priced game and fashion. Catwoman would love the thrill of the hunt on those light soaked streets and their debutant ladies dripping in the latest diamonds. She got up to wash her glass and place the wine back into the cabinet. She was riding on that high between having just enough to drink and sober enough for the chase. Selina went back into Eli's room. Maybe it was the alcohol running through her veins, but she was shocked to find the bed was emptied and the windows were wide open.
"Dammit!" she rushed to the opening. Eli was in no condition to venture Gotham alone. In his weakened state he was an easy mark for the desperate. Selina figured the kid was dumb enough to head back to Crime Alley in search of his beloved sword. Quickly she changed clothes and leapt from the sill to catch up. The streets were quiet as dawn was slowly approaching.
"C'mon, you couldn't have gotten that far already." she murmured. There were many ways to get to Crime Alley, but she took the fastest route she knew from her apartment and planned on meeting the boy just as soon as he got there. As expected, she reached the alley before Eli. What she didn't expect was the boy not showing up at all. Selina waited and waited. The sun was beginning to peek over the city's horizon and the sky turned a light shade of pink and blue. Eli never came.
"Well, if he didn't come here, then where the hell did he go?"
Selina was left stumped, knowing the kid must've had friends all over the city. The only problem she had was pin pointing just who Eli went to.
* * * *
Despite all the sleep he got, Eli didn't have the energy to fly. He barely had the energy to blink his tired eyes. His surroundings became clear to him and with this new development, he could've easily closed his eyes and summoned his blade to him, wherever it may be. Eli was too weak to do anything but walk. He walked with nothing on his feet and no coat to protect him from the early morning cool breezes. Still he knew where he was going and how to get there. If Batman had his katana last, it was a surefire thing he went to the one person in the city he trusted more than his sidekick: Bruce. For some reason the two were tighter than a cat and its nine lives. Whatever Bruce did, Batman was never too far behind to protect him from whatever. He was there at Wayne's bidding when Eli first ran away from the manor and did all he could to bring the boy back. Eli found it odd. Why the heck was the city's main protector constantly hovering over Bruce? Maybe like him, Batman was tasked with watching over the orphan at the behest of the Wayne parents. If so, then it was clear he would give Eli's katana to Bruce as a memento of sorts.
"Hey little lady! Wait a minute!" someone called out.
It was too early in the morning for this. Eli wasn't physically prepared to handle a pervert and assumed they all went to bed at this hour since the night was over. Fortunately when he turned around, he saw a man in a suit and tie running at him from across the street.
"Sorry miss, but I couldn't help noticing you look lost." he huffed out of breath. The man was a tad overweight and smelled of strong coffee, pastries and cigars. It was a comforting grown man type of smell. He was nowhere near handsome and had a gruff mean look about his face, but all that could be said about him was written in his eyes. He was a man who meant well and fought hard judging by his girth and hardened knuckles. Eli could tell when he ran over to him, he meant him no harm. Eli looked down to his knees and noticed he was hardly wearing anything except a female's nightgown. If he wasn't so tired and filled from the need for revenge, he would've been embarrassed.
"A young lady such as yourself shouldn't be wandering around these streets alone. It's dangerous out here sweetheart, even in the mornings." the man tipped his hat.
"I know of a little place where you can get a great breakfast and something hot to drink. If you're lost, there's a phone at the joint and we can call whoever's looking for you, okay?"
Eli shrunk away. Such kindness was rare to come by and when it came, he never trusted it. At least, not anymore.
"Don't worry hon, I'mma cop." the man went into the coat hanging from his shoulder and fished out his identification and badge.
"Detective Harvey Bullock of the GCPD, at your service ma'am." the man smirked, feeling proud of himself. Noticing the child was shivering, Bullock draped his large coat over Eli's shoulders and began escorting him to the nearest diner for a quick breakfast. Eli wasn't hungry, but he did find comfort in the scent of frying eggs and brewing early morning coffee.
"There, ain't that better?" Bullock helped him into a chair by the window.
While the detective ordered them two dishes of pancakes with eggs, bacon and sausages with coffee for himself and a glass of milk for his younger company, Eli planned his explanation carefully. He wasn't expecting to get picked up by the police, but so far Bullock wasn't so bad and looked to be the "easy-to-talk-to" type.
"Now that we're all settled, you don't mind if I ask you a coupl'a questions, do you?" Bullock put out his cigar. "We can start with your name." he took out a notepad.
"Haley Jailor." Eli replied immediately.
"Good, good. May I ask how old you are Haley?"
"Twelve and a half. My birthday's next week."
"Oh really? Many happy returns. Okay hon, these are the hard ones, do you know your address?"
The food came. Eli looked to the pancakes and the image of Alfred came to mind. He was already on his way there and now with a possible ride in the wings, Eli concocted his next words with confidence.
"1007 Mountain Drive." he said as he did his best to change his expression from exhaustion to innocent and lost.
"1007 Mountain....wait a sec...that's Wayne Manor!" Bullock raised his voice. His outburst caused several patrons to turn their heads.
"No offense hon, but you don't live in Wayne Manor."
"I do so. I live with my uncle who's Mr. Wayne's butler."
"Aw yeah? Name me Wayne's butler then."
"Alfred Pennyworth. You could easily describe me to him and he'd know me anywhere. I even have my own room right across the hall from Mr. Wayne's adopted son."
Bullock stared at his notes, confused and lost for words. He knew he had no right believing this little stranger, but she had an address and names, including Wayne's old butler. Heck, she even knew Wayne had adopted the Grayson boy. Maybe she was telling the truth.
"I...I wanna believe you. I really do, but if you're really related to Wayne's butler, how come he ain't put out an APB for you down at the station?" Bullock hoped to stump the child.
"A what?" Eli played ignorant.
"Uh, it means "All Points Bulletin". It means your "uncle" would've called for us to search for you. I mean, you're suppose to be related after all."
"Who's to say he didn't and you cops just chose to ignore it?"
"It's not like a missing child would be at the top of the GCPD's "to-do" list and seeing as how my uncle and I are living with Mr. Wayne, just think about the scandal it was cause if people found out the butler's niece was missing. I would bring shame to the house." Eli took a bite of his pancakes. He could see the wheels in Bullock's head spinning. He only had the option of returning the child back to the mansion. Kids went missing in Gotham every single day and the sad truth about it was, the kid was right. No one in the police department did a damn thing about it. Only Gordon and occasionally Bullock himself would go out of their way to find them.
"Alright shorty. I'll bring you up there and see if you're telling the truth." Bullock took a long gulp of his coffee.
"And if I'm lying?" Eli's icy eyes flashed dangerously.
"Well, if you're lying I bring you to the precinct and find out exactly who you are and probably keep you locked up till we find your real parents."
They finished their breakfast, paid and left a tip, then headed for Bullock's shabby car. Eli rode in the back and tried to remain silent for the entire ride.
"So, you're the niece of Wayne's butler, huh? What's it like, living with the rich and famous?" Bullock asked from the front seat.
"It's alright."
"Uh, how'd you end up walking the streets alone?"
"Don't know. I'm told I walk in my sleep. My uncle says it happens often."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"How do you know I'm lying?"
This back and forth went on for a little longer until Bullock couldn't think of anymore questions. They took the familiar highway that lead past the cemetery and away from the city to its limits and up to Wayne Manor. Within minutes the car came to the iron front gates.
"Who goes there? Please speak clearly." came the taught, yet calm tone of Alfred over the intercom.
"Detective Harvey Bullock of the Gotham City Police Department."
Five minutes passed before the gates creaked open. The drove through the dense forested pathway leading up to the front doors. Eli watched the trees pass him by and felt a pang of longing to once again walk through the long road for a moment of silence. He was careful not to look too impetuous and remained calm as the vehicle came to a halt at the front of the house.
'How many times must I keep coming back to this damn house?' he rolled his eyes. Thinking of what to do quickly, Eli followed the detective out of the car.
Bullock made sure the little girl he picked up was behind him with one glance backwards. Once he saw Eli was still there, he walked to the entrance. It was easy for Eli to escape thanks to his being barefoot. One quick look to make sure Bullock wasn't watching and at the first sign of the door opening, Eli quietly took off to the back side of the house.
"May I help you?" the butler opened the door ajar.
"Yeah like I said, I'm with the GCPD and I have reason to believe I've found someone missing from this house." Bullock took out his badge and I.D.
"Missing from this house? Sir, no one's missing. Mr. Wayne and the rest of the household are quite fine thank you."
"I knew it. Do you happen to have a niece who's about twelve and a half years old? Eyes bright blue with white hair? Her name's Haley Jailor. She claims you're her uncle."
The look on Alfred's face was one of somebody knowing something, yet refused to talk. His expression went from alert to saddened.
"Detective, I'll have you know there was a child such as you described living in this house at one point." said Alfred in a low voice.
"Ah ha! So she wasn't lying? So then, do you have a niece who sleepwalks every night or what?" Bullock again took out his notepad.
"Sleepwalks? Dear sir, if you have to know, why don't you ask your Lieutenant Gordon. He was there when...I lost the child."
Bullock looked behind him to find no one standing beside him.
"Wh...what the hell?! I swear, she was right there! Bright blue eyes and white hair and everything!" he stammered.
"Please detective, leave this house at once. Mr. Wayne was not expecting your company today and is in a rather precarious mood lately."
The door closed and Bullock was left standing in the early morning air.
"Fucking great! Now I'm picking up ghosts and shit. Fuckin'--where did that little liar go?!"
Eli had snuck to the wall underneath his old room. He heard Bullock cussing his name, but didn't have the heart to spare the man his feelings.
"Sorry detective. You were too easy, but thanks for the ride." he gave a silent appreciation. Eli still wasn't in any shape to manifest his wings, but luckily the tree that grew by his window still stood. With great difficulty he climbed the sturdy limbs and reached for the window. A shiver of apprehension and fear twitched as the window easily slid open. The old room was exactly the same as he left it, but much dustier. Nothing had been moved. Even the bed was still made.
Out of migratory habit, Eli's feet lead him to his bed. He knelt down and proceeded to crawl into the small space. The floors needed a good sweeping, but nonetheless Eli found a small pocket of peace as he curled into a ball and closed his eyes. There was a noise pounding under the floor. Eli pressed his face closer to the dusty floorboard. The thumping turned out to be the sound of blaring music coming from downstairs. Who the heck was crazy enough to blast music that loud and...was he smelling the scent of weed? From the sound of things, the musical genre was jazz and indeed Eli smelled someone smoking. Dick was obviously out of the question. There was no way Alfred would ever do something so gauche and in his master's house, so that only left...
"No way." Eli's eyes blinked in surprise. The music continued as footsteps approached his door. The smoke grew stronger as the light from the hall vanished with people standing in front of the entrance.
"C'mon, let's go in!" a woman's voice giggled.
The door swung open and two women laughed and smoked their way into Eli's former room.
"Behave now girls. Don't get ash on the sheets. Alfred won't admit it, but he hates when I smoke in the house. Although if he hates it so much, he could always find another job. Gotham's filled with rich families who could use a decent housekeeper." came Bruce's voice. The world slowed when Eli heard him. Bruce sounded so different. Gone was the tone of a watchful, caring adult. He sounded playful, drunk and apathetic as if he didn't have a care in the world. Eli remembered what his version of Bruce sounded like and this wasn't the same man. His Bruce would've never spoken of his longtime butler and friend in such a way, nor would he have been smoking, or allowing anyone else to be smoking in the upper floors of his house. Eli listened as he sensually tickled one of his guests and clothes dropped to the floor. This was his room. No matter how much time passed, this one spot would always remain the one place Eli ever felt safe in the city...and now he was forced to listen to that haven being defiled. There were no words to describe what went through Eli's mind.
His body heaved up and down as his lungs and heart filled with everything terrible to think of. He had left Bruce on bad terms, but that didn't warrant the destruction of the only reminder of a home he once loved. He truly meant nothing to Bruce anymore. Maybe the love Eli thought he felt was never real in the first place. A glass bottle fell and rolled into his hiding spot. Eli, not thinking about what he was doing, slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his breathing. His heart stormed erratically in his chest as he fought stinging tears well in his eyes.
"Aw shit, the champagne fell under the bed." a woman groaned.
"Good thing I have a butler to bring us another one." chuckled Bruce. He jumped off the bed and went to call for Alfred from the doorway. In his usual record time, Alfred arrived with fresh bottles of alcohol, but when he saw which room he was delivering it to, he threw the door open until it slammed into the wall behind it.
"No! Absolutely not! This is the absurd last straw master Bruce." he furiously declared.
"Excuse me?" Bruce scoffed. "Have you forgotten who's house you serve?"
"I know who I serve sir and believe me, I would allow him to send me to my death if he were to see how I've cowardly watched his son to fall into such a state of decay. Master Bruce, do you not know who's room this is?"
"It's his old man. With all due respect, isn't the entire house his?" one woman haughtily sloshed her words.
"Madam, this is none of your concern and I would appreciate it if you please cover yourself when speaking to an older man."
"Who are you to be speaking to my guests like you own the place Alfred?!"
The confrontation was about to blow up into a full argument.
"I am the man who your father placed in charge to protect you in his absence. I have watched you throw your respect away these recent days, defiling your parents' home with hordes of ne'er-do-well women who want nothing more than your money for a night of meaningless passion, I've opened the doors that were meant to shield you to sketchy businessmen and listened as you conducted "business" with those criminals. This, in this room, has to be the final straw sir."
Alfred walked into the room and stopped in front of the bottle. Out of sheer panic, Eli crawled to the top of the bed against the wall. He kept his mouth covered, his body trembling.
"This room master Bruce, for all the pain it's brought you, means something and in all this time, you told me to keep it as it was. Never to be opened until you were ready and certainly never to be used in this way. Bruce, if you defile this room...you'll never forgive yourself once you've snapped out of this drunken behavior." Alfred sounded desperate.
The women, with clear dissatisfaction, picked up their clothes and followed Bruce out the room.
"Sir--"
"Let's get one thing clear, you work for me, not the other way around Alfred." Bruce sounded wasted and spiteful. "If I wasn't throwing a party tonight with so many people, I'd warn that you just lost your job. There's a bottle of champagne under the bed. Pick it up before you leave."
The group vacated the room, leaving Alfred alone to sigh in frustration while picking up the abandoned garbage. The butler bent over to fetch the half filled bottle of alcohol and caught sight of something bright and blue staring directly into his eyes. Crumpled against the wall at the head of the bed was a tiny body with eyes wide in what looked to be anger or fear. At the sight, Alfred forgot the bottle and reached for the child instead.
* * * *
"You can't keep doing this. You can't keep coming and going to this house as you please."
While Bruce and his company had moved to his bedroom, Alfred quietly collected Eli from under the bed. The boy looked like an angry cat, all huddled down and coiled to strike the moment he tried to touch him.
"Why are you here again Elijah? If Bruce were to find out..." Alfred took a seat on the bed beside the child.
"I didn't come to see any of you other than Bruce and trust me, this wasn't going to be a social call. I came to ask him about my sword." Eli kept to himself. He wasn't paying attention to Alfred's face. If he were he would've noticed the subtle shift in his facial muscles and knew something was up.
"Your sword? I didn't even know a child your age could even have such a thing. A weapon like that is extremely dangerous. Perhaps it's best you no longer have it." said Alfred.
Out of respect for the only person willing to stand up for the virtue of his one time room, Eli chose to curb his anger and overlook the fact that he didn't ask Alfred whether or not it was safe for him to have a sword in the first place.
"Recently I became separated from my blade in a fight. Though I wasn't able to retrieve it on time, I have word from a reliable source that Batman was the one who found it."
Alfred's frame stiffened at the news.
"Batman? And what does he have to do with your being here?" he asked. Eli turned to look into the older man's face. There was a light of something terrible in the child's eyes. Alfred could see it. Maybe it was from hearing and seeing what was about to happen to his room, or the way Bruce talked, but there was something dark and evil brewing inside Eli's pupils. The same light could also be seen in Bruce's eyes to a lesser degree. Every ounce of Alfred's being pleaded with him to keep the location of Eli's blade hidden at all costs.
"For as long as I've known them, Bruce and Batman have seem to be unnaturally close. During the time I lived here and I would stray, Batman would always come after me at Bruce's request. It didn't take a lot of brain power to see they were connected. I know...well, I had hoped that since Batman knows of me and Bruce's relationship, he would've given my sword to him as some form of memento. If it is here, maybe he was trying to tell me to come back...but maybe it's already too late for that." Eli closed his eyes. In the darkness behind his closed lids, he could clearly see his katana. It was somewhere close. He could see a thin, frail white thread linked to the sword and it grew brighter and brighter the longer Eli sat in the house. His eyes shot open in realization. His sword was near. Alfred rose from his seat next to him and went for the door.
"Come with me." he said solemnly. Eli followed. From down the hall he could hear sounds, hard thumping, laughing and music coming from Bruce's bedroom. The scent of weed came stronger now that it was on the same floor. Other than them, the house was empty as usual, but the soul felt entirely different.
"I'll admit, I find it a bit shocking that you're not surprised to see me." Eli said as he looked down the hall.
"This house has a way of holding on to ghosts. No matter who leaves, they always come back. Plus I knew it was you the police detective was referring to."
"How'd you know?"
"Haley Jailor is an anagram for your real name: Elijah Royal. Once I figured it out, all suspense went out the window as they say."
Eli followed Alfred downstairs and down the hall leading to the kitchen. The white thread grew brighter.
"My sword...it's in this house." Eli trailed off.
"Are you sure? I wouldn't know. Master Bruce has an assortment of weapons he's collected from various places he's traveled to over the years. I wouldn't be able to tell your sword from any other."
The boy shot off through the house and went further down the hall to Bruce's weapons room. The thread brightened as Eli opened the doors. In his mind the trail snaked its way across the floor and vanished in front of a display case situated in the back of the room away from the rest of the collection. Alfred had no choice but to follow in silence. After seeing the monsters in Eli's eyes, he knew he should've done more to keep the boy away from anything sharp and dangerous looking, but he also saw something pulling Eli to the sword's hiding place. He was sensing it and when it came to that kind of intuition, there was nothing to be done. So he followed Eli up to the display of his sword. The blade had been perfectly hanged and cared for. Above it laid the white mask with thin slits for eyes. Eli's body reacted to the sight of his blade. He moved more slow and steady as if he was gliding across the floor. He reached out his hand. The blade reacted to the presence of its master with swirls of black smoke curling from the hilt and lifting to touch its owner's embrace. Once the assassin and his weapon were reunited, all light left the room. Cold icy air replaced the warmth coming from the room's heated floor as the shadows danced in and out of Alfred's sight.
"Thank you Alfred. Thank you for taking care of my sword." Eli's voice bounced off the room, the walls transforming it into an ethereal echo.
"I...I had a feeling you'd come back for it." the butler gave up the façade and lowered his head in defeat. There was no sense in lying any longer. Tendrils of the black smog outlined Eli's feet and trailed behind him as he went to leave.
"Wait! Please, whatever you're about to do with that weapon...please stop." Alfred worried. "Between you and Bruce, I'm powerless, but what I can do is impart words of wisdom that'll make you think before you do anything rash. Elijah, I know things ended messily for all of us and I know what it must have looked like in your room, but you have to know you are always in our thoughts and if it were up to me, both you and Bruce would be sitting down, talking to each other and getting to the bottom of this abyss. Please Elijah, as your friend, I'm asking you to reconsider whatever you're thinking."
The temperature continue plummeting until Alfred could see his breath coming in puffs of white mist. He wrapped his arms around his torso in hopes of getting warm and to hold back the shivers of anticipation as Eli approached him. The boy gently took the butler's hand in his and looked deep into his honest eyes.
"I'm sorry Alfred." he whispered. "I'm going to do terrible things once I leave here and I don't want you to try and stop me. I won't ask you to understand, but I will ask you to not stand in my way. You have been a good friend to me and have protected my memory, but if Bruce doesn't care for me anymore, than you needn't suffer. In the coming days you're going to hear of great horrors and countless deaths. You will be the only one to know from who this purge comes from."
Alfred didn't move as Eli turned and left. With his sword finally back in his hands, Eli's blood raged through his veins and power returned to his tired body.
For the last time, he went back upstairs, passed his room and stood in front of Bruce's door. Voices, not from the room, but from all around the house spoke and pleaded in his ears. The ghosts of Wayne Manor gathered to beg Death to stay, but Eli ignored them all. He turned the knob and walked inside. Rolling on the floor, making out and moaning were the two women. They displayed their lust to their host, emphasizing each movement for Bruce's amusement. The room was foggy with the scents of champagne, weed and sweat filling the air. Bruce's room was a mess and even if Eli had only been in the room once before for a short time, he knew it never looked like this. Lying on his bed, legs splayed open while he recorded the sex on his phone was none other than the mighty Bruce Wayne. Through the haze Eli could see Bruce's eyes were reddened from the drugs and drinking. He was high out of his mind, smiling and laughing as his companions made fools of themselves. This wasn't the same man Eli was sent to protect from vultures. In all the time he was held captive by Zsasz and his masked compatriot, all he could think about was those murderers making their way back to Bruce. Eli was prepared to kill anyone who came near him...but here he was, watching Bruce behave like any other rich asshole.
What about the photos his captors sent? Eli at least thought Bruce would've been distraught with worry and panic, sending the GCPD out all over the city in an attempt to find him. Selina never mentioned hearing of any cops searching for Wayne's missing friend. The house wasn't overrun with papers and reporters asking questions. In fact, it looked as if Bruce didn't even acknowledge or even receive the photographs at all. Eli stalked along the walls, moving closer to the bed. He just couldn't believe it. The man he was looking at, hair all ruffled, eyes red and his robe hanging off his body sloppily, was Thomas and Martha's son. The women broke from their embrace only to lazily look up and spot Eli.
"Oh no...I think we forgot someone..." one of them wobbled drunkenly. She wagged a finger at the boy, tempting him to come closer. Bruce laughed and turned his camera to where his date was pointing. The camera caught sight of a slender silver haired girl dressed in a nightgown holding what looked to be a long black stick.
"Huh...you look like someone I use to know...I think." he stumbled his words.
Bruce's face became conflicted, his thoughts caught between wanting to remember something important and wanting to forget his pain.
"A...are you a ghost?" he asked. Eli came closer. He climbed up on the bed and knelt next to the drunk billionaire. Bruce dropped his phone and stared long and hard into two bright blue fires. A splitting headache suddenly wracked his brain the longer he looked, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. He knew this ghost. He raised his hand, half expecting it to pass through the child's body, half hoping she was real. His hand came to rest on Eli's pale cold face.
"I...I know you, don't I?"
Eli leaned into the hand and stared. He said nothing, but hoped to convey everything within his eyes.
He was angry, hurt and felt betrayed. Destroying Bruce's company and painting him out to be just another heartless rich guy was suppose to be the plan, but behind closed doors, Eli didn't want to suspect his master might have been right in stating Bruce was no different than anyone else chasing after riches. This was all the proof he needed to know Ra's spoke the truth. If it weren't for the way the old master spoke like he needed Bruce, Eli would've went back to the oasis that day, but it was his mission to keep an eye on the fool. For now, he removed the hand from his cheek and sighed.
"Good-bye Bruce." he whispered. Eli got off the bed, leaving Bruce behind confused in his intoxicated state. He exited the room, sword in hand and went back down to the foyer where Alfred stood waiting for him.
"I won't be coming back anytime soon." Eli opened the front door.
"I'd like to be believe that, but as I said, this place has a habit of calling back the lost and forlorn."
"Yeah, I've seen what you mean, but not this time. If he asks about me when he's sober, don't tell him I was ever here. In fact, tell him my ever being here was just a dream. A long, horrid dream."
Alfred knew better than to believe this was going to be the last time he saw the young assassin. He didn't even bother to watch the boy disappear down the cobblestone road and closed the door.
"Alfred! Alfred!" Bruce came down the stairs a second too late. "He was here!"
"Who was here sir?"
"Eli! I just saw him in my room. He was here and...and I felt him..."
A silence, heavy and filled with sadness and regret blanketed the room. Should Alfred choose so, this moment would turn into yet another demon waiting to haunt Bruce's soul, but what if the truth created an even more terrible monster? Either way, Alfred was dammed if he said anything, and dammed if he lied.
"Master Bruce, I...I don't think young Elijah was here." he sighed. "No one other than you and your lady guests have been here all day."
Bruce's eyes twitched back and forth, looking for any sign of proof. His mind was too clouded under the influence of the weed and champagne. In his haste, he nearly tripped down the last two steps and ran into the weapon's room. When came across the assassin display case, he noticed the sword was missing.
"I know Eli was here. The sword's missing!" he pointed.
"Sir, you wanted me to get rid of the thing, so I auctioned it away." the butler lied some more.
"Why would I tell you to give it away?! It was my only shot on finding him!"
"I...I don't know master Bruce. I was simply following orders. You were intoxicated that evening, so of course you wouldn't remember."
High and feeling as though the room was spinning out of control, Bruce fell to his knees. He desperately needed another distraction. Anything. Something to take his mind off of his going insane with thoughts of silver haired killers with bright blue eyes.
"Bruce..."
"Let's forget it Alfred. We have other things to do to delight the mind and entertain the soul, don't we? A relic of bygone times won't bring cheer, now will it?"
Bruce was suddenly bright and chipper. He got up from his knees and went into his personal office.
"I want to have a ball tonight."
"Sir?"
"A ball. You know, a party. These past couple of months have been hell, what with the scandal trying to ruin me and Richardson in the hospital and all...remind me, we should go visit him to see how he's recovering...I want to throw a party to take the people's minds off of things."
Alfred was beside himself with confusion. When he suggested that Batman should take a backseat to Bruce's life, he didn't mean for his ward to throw his health away, fill the mansion with all manner of shady people and more importantly, lose his self respect.
Bruce's name was constantly in the papers nowadays, giving the phrase "no such thing as bad publicity" a run for its money. When Alfred wanted Bruce to switch lives and places with Batman, he didn't mean for it to go this wrong.
"Sir, perhaps another party isn't a good idea. You've already had several gatherings in the past three days alone and besides, there's a more dire issue that needs your attention this very instant." said Alfred. He went to pick up this morning's newspapers and spread them across the table.
"I know I was the one who suggested that you and the Batman take a personal holiday, but things have gotten out of hand in your absence. Crime has ran rampant now that the Dark Knight is no longer answering to the Bat symbol."
"I'm doing exactly what you said Alfred and according to you, this isn't my problem anymore."
"Robin's out on patrol and can easily take care of things while Batman's away. He's been wanting to prove himself worthy, well now's a good a time as any to show what he's got." Bruce shrugged.
"I know and I thank God the hooligans from Arkham haven't made his job even more difficult, but master Bruce...there's worst yet to come..."
The early morning sun was blotted out as a flock of black birds and dark clouds swept past. A wind, heavy with deep rumblings like thunder and carrying a deafening and soul shuddering moan blew over the trees and water bringing with it darkness not before seen at this time of day. Alfred moved to the window and watched as the shadow moved toward Gotham. He couldn't have it both ways. Either he was to remain the butler to Bruce Wayne, the bachelor billionaire and cater to his every whim and want without the pain of Batman, or he had to come to terms with the dark hero's existence and carry on.
It was true Bruce was still an emotional wreck with or without his other persona, but at least with his nightly outlet, he was able to get out of his skin and do something with all his pent up frustrations and run from his demons. He was more stable with his preferred choice of madness, but now...now that Bruce chose to listen to his mentor and friend, he was lost and choosing to act on the whims and fancies of the rich and entitled his city was known for. Bruce Wayne wasn't meant to be like the others, but it was clearly evident that without Batman, he was living a more wasteful and selfish lifestyle. Alfred wondered what if Thomas and Martha were still alive. Would Bruce still have acted in the same manner and would Eli even had been a part of their lives? There wouldn't have been a need for Batman if there were here and this deep seated fear and dread Alfred felt at knowing a terrible evil was yet to be born would have never come to pass. He had to make his choice. He picked up the phone and began making plans for caterers, musicians and other live entertainments. There was nothing he could do to stop the oncoming storm anyway.
* * * *
In the following days, Gotham was thrown into a frenzy of fear, panic and blood. Sightings of the city's thought long gone Angel of Death once again sparked media interest, with new stories of witnessing the creature in action and mounds of victims reported every night. The city was in a massive uproar and had divided itself on who the killer could be. Half of Gotham declared Death had finally returned to the city as punishment for the sins of the people. The other half agreed wholeheartedly that these actions were done by none other than a Batman who finally got tired of dealing with the city's criminal element.
"If you can't behave, then you will be punished!"
"Batman doesn't act that way! He's here to protect the people, not kill whoever he deems unworthy of some sort of cause."
"He shouldn't be taking the law into his own hands in the first place. That's what we have the police for."
"Yeah, well they're next. They're no different than those thugs out on the streets."
"I agree. I once saw a cop take a bribe from a reporter and let's not forget all the times they've stepped over their own authority and made themselves kings around here. Yeah, I wouldn't stop the Angel of Death to deal them some justice and let's not forget the corrupt landlords..."
Back and forth it went. Who deserved to be punished and who didn't. Was this purge right, or wrong? Was it divine intervention, or hellish retribution. Either way, Gotham was getting its just desserts. Whether or not they agreed, in the back of nearly every criminal's mind, they assumed this new wave of death and destruction came at the hands of Batman and feared doing their business outdoors from then on. Whispers of what happened at the Wayne Manor party spread through the streets, transforming Batman into a predator of animalistic and demonic proportions. During the first attacks, everyone knew not to be outside once the sun began to set. When the night took over, all streets were abandoned and the few souls who were up to no good and brave enough to venture out, were found the next morning in pieces.
The only clue leading the brave men and women of the GCPD toward not believing these were the works of their vigilante, was the swarms of black birds found feasting on the evidence at every crime scene. Obviously with a name like Batman, there should've been bats around, but never did they find anything remotely related to the winged creature. Instead all they kept finding were black feathers and talon markings. In the beginning their jobs were easier, knowing they'd find new victims the next day, but even that small comfort was stolen away one day when a body was found freshly slaughtered in broad daylight. It was sign that no one was safe no matter where and or when. Death waited for no one. Along the extensive list of bodies, Mathew Richardson was the next soul to be collected. He was scheduled to finally be released from the hospital due to the near fatal stabbings of a child assassin, but while he was recovering, he was kept well informed of the current situation. He had his own private armed guard, curtesy of being a Wayne Enterprises' employee and mixed them with his own men from this father's side of business.
He should've been well protected. He wasn't. There was only so much the hospital staff could do to protect their patient as the lights on Richardson's floor went out and the screaming began. It was a bloodbath. Some of the doctors were left alive to tell the tale, but overall whatever monster lurked through the corridors, it killed nearly everyone in its path to get to its main prey. Reports came in of Richardson's death late one night.
"Complete pandemonium at Gotham General tonight as the halls of the usually dutiful hospital were turned red with the blood of countless victims, including Wayne Enterprises' very own PR manager, twenty-four year old, Mathew Richardson. Richardson was originally brought into Gotham General when a kidnapping turned into an assassination attempt that nearly took the young man's life. The savagery of the attack indicates further suspicion into the already damaging rumors of Wayne Enterprises' current legal and oversea practices, leading many to believing Richardson's murder might have been done out of a personal and foreign vendetta. Though according to the live footage of the hospital's bloody aftermath and random victims, most of the city is left to believe this was yet but another "sacrifice" for Gotham's "Angel of Death"."
"Richardson was set to be released from Gotham General two days before he was to hold a meeting with Wayne Enterprises' stockholders as well as foreign investors --"
"It looks like our monster has been quite busy."
"Yes, slaughtering the weak minded and petty criminals. I take it the Grandmaster has heard of these developments?"
"Are you kidding? If he heard about us taking his little pet and molding it for a killing spree, he'd lose his ever loving shit."
"But we must be prepared, for he shall hear of this one way or another."
"Then we'll deal with that when the time comes. For now, we have to get another mole into Wayne Enterprises. Someone more equipped in the field."
"I might have a candidate. Now we have to get our hands on Wayne while he's in this inebriated state. Ever since we sent him the pictures of the boy, he's taken a more drastic emotional turn for the worse. This is the opportune time for us to finally get our hands on him and mold him to our liking."
"And what about the Batman?"
"What about him?"
"He and Wayne were close, yet these past days there hasn't been any sightings of him. I know they're all mistaking the boy for the Bat, but we know better. Batman is no longer protecting the city."
"Until we can get to the bottom of their connection, this may present us with another opportunity."
"With Batman out of the way, we can move more freely for a time."
"So, where does that leave the boy? At this rate, he'll kill anything that moves."
"So far he hasn't taken his rage out on the ordinary citizens. As long as we continue walking among the faceless masses and not bring any attention to ourselves, our operations should be fine."
"That's grand and all, but there's still the matter of what happened at the Zsasz estate. One of our own is horribly damaged and can easily be a nuisance to all future plans. He messed up and allowed the boy to escape, as well as allowed Batman and one of his friends to infiltrate the operation."
"Well, we did want the boy to escape after all. We can't give him one of us. The moment he discovers something on the body, we'd be in immediate danger. I want to make this perfectly clear: no one is to go after this monster while he's on his killing spree."
* * * *
The streets were constantly flooded with racing police cars. Blurs of black, white, red and blue sped past Bruce almost every ten minutes it seemed. He had heard about Richardson's murder and thought to finally venture out of his house to see what was happening in the outside world. He had to get out. Though he was told he and Batman should live separate lives, Bruce's world was falling apart. He could feel it, but something in him couldn't be asked to care. The police were seen and heard doing their job, so technically there wasn't any need for Batman. Bruce sat in the back of his car and unfurled his newspaper.
"Crime has lowered by 21% since Batman "retired"." he spoke aloud.
"That's because the people are terrified he's turned into a killer." Alfred said from the driver's seat.
"Batman a killer? Come on Alfred, you know as well as I Batman doesn't kill people."
"In recent events, I fear the Dark Knight's reputation has transformed into something much worse."
"Ever since the fundraiser party, people have been speculating the Batman's true form and questioning his real intentions. The papers have called him a demon and right now the people have no other reason to believe different. Many have proclaimed Batman's finally given up on trying to cut the criminals slack and has ventured into dealing with them "permanently"."
Bruce closed his paper and threw it to the other side of the seat. He was doing the right thing...at least, that what he was trying to tell himself as he passed countless herds of people all walking together like sheep too scared to travel alone. Batman wasn't needed. So far there hadn't been any reports of average citizen deaths. Only people Bruce knew to be connected with Gotham's criminal underworld had been mercilessly murdered. In the end, was it really such a bad thing? Though the normal people were scared right now, as soon as they realized that they were safe from the thugs and muggers, rapists and fanatic serial killers, they would come around to this new wave of justice and feel more comfortable. Just knowing they could walk home without getting jumped by a drugged up hoodlum...it had to count for something.
Bruce sat back deeper into his seat and lit a cigarette. He coughed at the spicy smoke, something in him nagging, poking at his subconscious. The vapors climbed to the roof of the car and filled the back compartment with the sweet haze of foggy chemical forgetfulness. Things were better this way. Bruce was finally living his life. He was able to spend his money, get up from his bed to go to work and make money, date beautiful socialites who left the next morning with smiles on their faces and a handful of Bruce's cash in their purses.
'You're wasting everything I've done for you!'
The car made a sharp left turn and sent Bruce sliding into a window. He hardly noticed the transaction.
'You're not even wearing your seatbelt. You're wasting away to nothing while your pity's kicking our ass."
"Say Al, are we there yet?" Bruce fiddled with his necktie.
"Almost sir. We should be arriving at the tower within ten minutes."
Everything was beginning to feel too close and itchy. The world began passing by in a swirl of distorted colors and shapes. Bruce felt he had to get out of the car as quickly as possible
'Stop smoking that garbage and start focusing on what's really important! There's someone out there destroying everything I've ever helped you built."
"Shut up! I don't need you!" Bruce held his head and shouted. Peeking through the mirror every now and then, Alfred silently watched as Bruce once again fought with himself.
'He's going to destroy everything until there's nothing but ash and blood. You know I'm right. I'm always right.'
"No! I'm no longer listening to you. Just leave me alone and stay the hell out of my life."
The voice went away as Bruce opened his eyes to see his tower standing before him.
"We're here sir." Alfred opened his door. Bruce's legs couldn't move fast enough. He walked past his receptionist and practically raced up the elevator to get to his office. He wanted to be alone. As soon as he reached those familiar oak doors, he made sure to lock them tight and sat behind his father's desk. He needed to forget the drive over. He needed for the thoughts and pain to go away. His breaths came loud and raspy. Bruce was panicking. He looked down to his hands and saw they were replaced by the shaking hands of an eight year old orphan.
"I wish you were here dad." he whispered.
'He can't come back. We both know that.'
"But I need him. I need him to tell me what to do now. I need a reason to move."
'I've been your reason to move for years. Gotham has been your reason to move. You've abandoned the city and you're trying to leave me behind.'
"I don't need you anymore! Gotham has a new protector. One who doesn't mind the blood and getting his hands dirty. He can take care of things in ways I...you...we can't. Don't you see? He's cleaning up crime instead of putting it behind bars where we know they'll just escape, or be bailed out over and over again. This way, everyone can be much safer."
Bruce turned his chair around to leave his desk when he came face to face with the portrait of his mother and father. His blue eyes watered with sadness, which quickly transformed into welling of anger and confusion.
"Why did you send him to me in the first place?! This is all your fault!" he raised his voice to the painting.
"You left me here, sending that stranger to take your place and use your voice to speak to me and now...now I don't even have that!"
The hate bubbling underneath his sockets poured out as Bruce went to grab the first sharp thing he could get his hands on. No longer was he going to be tormented by the two people who left him to rot in a broken city surrounded by an even broker world.
"No more. I don't want to do this anymore. It's time to put it all behind me--" he found his envelope opener and went to slash the velvet portrait of his once beloved parents. He was almost close to finishing the deed, when a soft and gentle knock came at the door.
"Mr. Wayne? Bruce, are you in?" called a female voice from the other side. The sudden break of noise brought Bruce back from the brink of his momentary insanity.
"Uh, yes. One moment please."
Gathering the rest of his senses, Bruce placed the sharp opener back onto his desk, straightened out his hair and suit and went to unlock the door. A young woman, maybe a couple of years younger than him, walked through the oak entrance. She was breathtaking and looked like an angel (although Bruce had had enough of angels for one lifetime) with long flowing blonde hair that bounced every time she took a step, bright hazel eyes and a wondrous smile that could light up the room. Her whole aura was bright and innocent. She came up to the desk and placed an envelope down.
"I was told to deliver this to you. It's from Mr. Shatner of the board." she smiled briskly.
"Thank you Miss..."
"Tuto. Blanche Tuto."
The two shook hands and immediately Bruce felt something click into place. He liked staring into the warm eyes of this woman.
It was better than constantly fantasizing about their icy blue counterparts. Ms. Tuto's hands were small and fit perfectly into his own. She smelled of flowers and vanilla, both comforting scents that made Bruce calm and relaxed. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he had smelled that combination before. Ms. Tuto gracefully pulled back her hand and playfully swept her hair behind her ear.
"I knew you were handsome, but just seeing you in the papers and on tv doesn't do you justice. You're really quite the fox." she blushed.
"Thank you. You know, you're quite a catch yourself."
She giggled like a school girl and for the first time in a while, Bruce felt the wonderful spark and genuine human connection again.
"So, Ms. Tuto--"
"Please, call me Blanche."
"Blanche. That's a beautiful name. Would you like to maybe get a cup of coffee with me sometime? I know we just met--"
"Oh no! I would love to! I have some free time around three. Is that alright?"
The phone rang and more employees came through the door. Bruce and Blanche gave each other one last look before returning to work. Maybe it was because Bruce was looking at things in a more positive light, but his day seemed to have brightened by this chance encounter. He was meeting a beautiful woman later and at that news, the voice plaguing him quieted down for the time being. He had stopped looking for any stashed substances to help him forget the day and went on to maintaining his empire in an efficient manner. Several times he thought he had saw something small and black follow him. Just out of the corner of his eye, he swore he kept catching glimpses of a shadow stalking him, but when he turned, no one or nothing was there. Soon three o'clock came and off he went to meet his new companion.
'You're going to get us killed. One of these days, you're going to wish you listened to me.'