Hi Evie!
Still desperately catching up. Almost there… Almost there…
But it looked like sorting Superman was a job for Lois Lane.
Lois Lane, the Sorting Hat
Chapter 10
Two weeks later.
So, what where these two up to in the meantime?
LOIS: he came. He ate. He put a platonic ark on my shoulder. He left. What did you think happened?
Summer had come and gone quickly this year, and the chill of fall was starting to creep in early.
And you wonder why I keep tracking back to the One Track.
He could be as stubborn as she was when he got a bee in his bonnet about something.
Like keeping her safe?
They hung high in the air above a stately manor house on the outskirts of Gotham City.
Gah, I wanted to joke about Batman and then realized that you already introduced the Billionaire Playboy(TM) two parts ago. /Reads back the past few paragraphs/
“Can’t you see where they go?” she asked.
What if they got an Underthecovers Bimbo(TM) in there? She could stealthily follow the BP and his manservant when they leave?
“The house is old,” he explained, eyes roaming the grounds. “Some of the rooms are coated in layers of lead paint
BRUCE: /pulls out letter/ Gotham Historical Society requires us to use period-appropriate materials when renovating the house. This is the reason why I had to use lead-based paint in the house and why I only drink bottled water and shower in the
cave my office suite downtown.
and it looks like there’s some kind of lead in the pipes
/points above/
and throughout a big slab of the foundation, too.
BRUCE: That’s been used during the original constructions when my ancestors built over the Native American graveyard that was in the place of Wayne Manor before Gotham was first settled. The lead foundations keep the evil spirits away.
It’s like looking through heavy static bars on a black and white television.”
And when you magnify a lot, the black spots look almost like little bats.
“Do you see him?”
“No…” he said, his focus trailing off.
But Superman now has competition in bringing down one of Gotham’s most notorious (alleged) mob bosses.
“Do you want to help him? You haven’t really introduced yourself, yet.”
I doubt Batman would appreciate that much.
BATMAN: *grunts*
He prefers to work alone.
BATMAN: /puts on ring with faintly glowing emerald/
Correction: he *really* prefers to work alone.
“I think he’s got it under control.” He visibly winced. “…although those thieves are going to need treatment for concussions.”
BATMAN: They fell.
Will we see Superman and Lois watching Batman tangle with Catwoman?
SUPERMAN: I would prefer not. Lois might get funny ideas about what a
vigilante superhero is allowed to do with his lady caller while in uniform.
If I’m spotted here, I’m afraid it’ll tip off Wayne that we’re onto him – if he’s our guy.”
BRUCE: I don’t like guns. Never have. It’s why I try to ship them all away from Gotham when Batman confiscates them from the various crime families. You wouldn’t believe how many factory-new guns and ammo can be confiscated in Gotham Harbor in a single week. It’s almost like they’re being manufactured right next door.
“The bat thing freaks me out a little.”
It’s a kink. He’s heavily into latex and stuff. Also explains why he’s into the leather girl with the whip.
“Just, like, ew, bats. Gross. Why pick bats? They’re just rats, but with wings. …and making them fly is not an improvement!”
Yes, but he has never been known to leave guano on the criminals automobiles while they’re parked.
BATMAN: That is true. And that one time the Gazette printed such nonsense, it was later proved that the druglord did that himself when he saw me hanging there in front of the red light.
“With the fall of Luthor Corp, you’ve been expanding your business interests in Metropolis over the last year. Is that correct, Mr. Chow?”
“A good businessman always expands and diversifies his portfolio.”
A good businessman doesn’t bore his interviewers into a stupor, she thought acerbically.
Well, it’s the interviewers fault. Why isn’t she talking about his exotic dancer wife?
That meant that Friday news went out with the trash as far as the press was concerned.
Nice bit of ambience!
Chow Consolidated had a lot of trash to take out, it seemed.
“ChoCo”?
Not one had been sold or dismantled.
She’d seen this kind of disconnect before. In fact, it was straight from the Luthor-shady-business-playbook.
Very nice touch.
That one had been a direct quote from the Chow Consolidated Code of Conduct.
The “ChoCoCoCo”
Having now spoken with the millionaire, she was sure that he was into something he oughtn’t be.
/pst/ ‘billionaire’.
“Yes, but aside from the company line, Mr. Chow, would you personally agree that it’s a moral responsibility of the upper class to give back to society, rather than capitalize on it for personal gain?”
“If society is well-cared for, they will be more willing to buy product, take on credit card loans, and in general hand over a more generous portion of they income to the upper class.”
His wealth was so extreme that it was isolating. It had left him without empathy for others, but with a solitary hobby of gobbling up everything in sight.
Either that or the man was a megalomaniacal sociopath with a psychopathic personality disorder and strong narcissistic tendencies.
Then again, the man did a fair enough impression of a cold fish that she wasn’t even sure he had the imagination to successfully take on Luthor’s black market schemes.
So, he’s either very smart or very dull.
Not this again, she bemoaned inwardly, her arms automatically circling his neck. She’d thought they’d left the unexpected pick-ups behind them.
Oh?
“What were you doing in Arthur Chow’s office?”
He sounded mad.
Working. And since she’s not a working girl, she’s visiting his office during daylight hours.
Why in the world was he angry? She was the one who’d just spent a whole half hour of her life with a living, breathing press release.
“You’re being too direct, Lois. We talked about this and we both agreed to investigate more cautiously,” he reminded her chidingly, eyes still ahead of them.
That *was* cautiously. She did not flash knee. She did not wait until he had to go to the bathroom to dig through his drawers. She did not leave herself a backdoor so she could return at night. She did not try to team up with Catwoman so she actually had a *chance* to exploit said backdoor.
and this was barely even poking a sleeping bear!
“barely even”
“I know,” he grimaced. “I just – I saw you with Chow and I got worried,” he said, finally making eye contact with her, his face softening.
“You broke the ru-ules,” she chimed in a sing-song voice.
To her delight, he looked even more chagrined.
Well, there are no rules when it comes to her safety.
Not even Jimmy has any idea what we’re investigating. Who’s going to catch on to us now?”
*****
Two days later.
BATMAN: Here’s your diamond collier.
CATWAMON: I said *stolen*. I was expecting Cartier’s.
BATMAN: I took it from those jewelry thieves you pointed out to me last week. That *fits* the definition of ‘stolen’. Be more specific next time if you want to make another wager.
CATWOMAN: /stares/
BATMAN: *grunts*
CATWOMAN: That. Was. More. Than. Five. Words.
BATMAN: *grunts*
CATWOMAN: Seeing Superman with that reporter chick must be really messing with your mind. If I weren’t so trusting, I’d think you’re jealous of him.
BATMAN: Not Vikki Vale again!
CATWOMAN: No, grumpy bats. Because he got a girlfriend who doesn’t take jewelry when she enters insufficiently locked up premises.
“Superman!”
Her voice was shrill as she flung herself to the floor behind the carved-up frame of a white cargo van resting on cement blocks near the center of the room. Her hands instinctively came up to cover her head.
Eeep! Sounds like she’s in a shootout!
At least partially obscured by the van, she went still and curled into a fetal position to create less of a target. No sense in helping the violent fools.
/squints/
A third shot, closer still.
“Superman! Now!”
He’s always late when she’s actually in danger.
The rain of bullets began in a staccato hail – and just as suddenly became muffled.
“You lost the bet this week,” came a voice in her ear.
And what did they bet?
“Why are you covered in…” he sniffed experimentally. “Oil?”
That was a long story.
Skin care?
She sighed, then grumbled, “There’s a vat of it in the back.”
“And you wanted to see what was at the bottom?”
Sounds logic?
It would have been pretty, if not for the threat that one stray spark would set her on fire.
Yes. That.
“Lois?”
That level of untamed mischief in his voice was never a good sign.
She doesn’t want to a playful superhero?
All she wanted was a hot bath somewhere far away from all the gun-fire and broken glass, but she’d just bet that her impenetrable shield would continue to sit there immovably until he’d had his fun.
She could ask him to take her to a tropical island where she could use a waterfall to wash herself*). He’d be required to heat the water*) using his vision gizmo.
*) Prior art, see Platonic.
“Why are you barefoot?”
She could hear his smile, which added another layer of annoyance heaped upon this entire, awful, misbegotten day.
Are her shoes at the bottom of the earlier mentioned oil drum?
And honestly, were these punks ever going to stop shooting? All they were doing was keeping her pinned in place so that he could tease her.
“I broke a heel,” she said, fully aware that it came out as a whine. She’d liked that pair.
Oh, so cute.
“That means shoe shopping this weekend,” he replied cheerily. “You like shoe shopping.”
He likes to live dangerous.
“Oh, shut up.”
He didn’t know it yet, but he was definitely flying her to Milan for those new heels after this was over.
Another joyful part! You are in great form!
Michael
