Chapter 2: Natasha and Anton
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,”
Selina explained haltingly, “It’s not that exactly. It’s more like—”
“‘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.
Anton sighed yet again.
“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...