Batman 1939: Swimming in the Styx
Chapter 21: Acceleration
The Customs Inspection Office, Sao Luis, Brazil
The port of Sao Luis didn’t receive many victims of shipwrecks, so its bureaucrats had little practice handling them. There were regulations of course, but these were in a dusty book on of the bottom shelf in the back of the old file room, and no one had touched it since Felipe used the book to kill a mosquito last summer. And these weren't the sort of regulations one could guess. Shipwreck survivors were neither immigrants nor tourists. They weren’t refugees in the common legal sense. They had no papers, so it was anyone’s guess what diplomatic protocols Brazil shared with their home country. So, until these questions were answered, survivors who reached Sao Luis were escorted to the same building where the government fined expired bananas.
Diana slept for most of her brief voyage aboard her rescue ship. When it made landfall, she awoke with a marvelous energy and renewed purpose (a stop at the on-board shower also helped). Diana had come to Man’s World to study their ways and make common cause with their champions. That was her life’s mission, and Steve was the key to her life - her true ally. Her best hope to find him was in America. With her new energy, she was tempted to step off the boat, turn north, and walk.
Diana had long recognized a difference between the Amazons and most of Mankind: the Amazons organized their lives into simple goals with clear solutions. Need to turn soil? Build a plow. Hurt a friend with angry words? Apologize. Want to reach a place? Go to that place. Diana was a quintessential Amazon. She was tired of doubt and complication. The whims of Man’s mechanical transports had brought her little but grief, and for once she had no enthusiasm to negotiate her way through yet another strange land.
But time was of the essence, so walking wasn’t an option. Boats had also proven slow. She knew enough to doubt whether cars or trains even traveled where she sought to go. Diana needed an airplane. But airplanes were valuable treasures. They could only be commanded by special mystics who knew their rituals. Steve was one such mystic, a chief of his kind, but he wasn’t here. Diana had to find an airplane and convince it to carry her to America.
Diana had grown savvy enough to realize that finding an airplane would be difficult if she solved every obsticle with violence, so she let the guards at the dock take her to this long warehouse that smelled like bananas. Diana and the other two survivors of the Azure were left in a banana storeroom to wait for their interviews. They guards took their lowly sailor friend first, leaving Diana and First Mate Zhang behind.
Diana paced with her hands on her hips.
Zhang sat on the floor and rested his head on a pile of bananas. “Do not worry, Diana. They will get bored of us soon. This is a formality.”
“I need a plan.”
“Stick with me. There’s always work for sailors.” Zhang smugly thumbed his chest. “With my reputation, I can find us another ship in four days.”
Diana ran her hand through her hair and shook her head. “That’s not swift enough. And I don’t want to talk with these guards of the Brazilers.”
“Brazilians.”
“Nor them either! They may recognize me and tell Argentina. I can’t stay in this banana place.”
“You think you are such an important fugitive that these Argentines would chase you into Brazil? Ha! Are your crimes so great?”
“I acted in justice, but they will think so. Even if these magistrates do not seek my past, they may let word of my survival slip to yet other enemies unknown. I must be covert and subtle.”
“Diana, suppose you leave. How will you survive in this city? You will make a great show of yourself rushing here and there in confusion, I suspect.”
Diana folded her arms. “I shall get by. My Spanish sounds better, no?”
“It does, but Brazilians don’t speak Spanish. They speak Portuguese.”
“Portuguese?”
“Yes, Portuguese is similar to Spanish, but just different enough to make your Spanish close to useless.”
“Do you know Portuguese?”
“Um pouco.”
“What?”
“That means ‘a little’ in Portuguese.”
“Fine. Tell me this: how do the Portuguesers say ‘airport’?”
“Aeroporto.”
“And ‘America’?”
“America. Or Estados Unidos.”
“Fine. That will be enough.”
“This little city may not even have an an airport.”
“Then I’ll walk to a city which does.”
“We are on an island.”
“Then I’ll swim.”
“You are brave, my extraordinary friend. And perhaps foolish.”
“Goodbye, Zhang.”
“Good luck, Diana.”
Their moment didn’t linger. Diana climbed a tall pile of overripe bananas up to the crude wooden ceiling. It had many smaller holes already, but she ripped a plank out and climbed onto the roof.
Diana jogged for half a mile across the city, running until the port was well behind her. She rested near a fountain and munched on a banana. Sao Luis was indeed a modest city, with low buildings and few cars. It was an overgrown town next to bustling Buenos Aries and an utter hamlet next to Gotham City. It reminded her of Washington, though Sao Luis was warmer and the paths were not so straight and neat. Like Washington, many buildings in the center were richly decorated in what Man considered an antique style: Sao Luis had tiles where Washington favored marble.
And Sao Luis was poor. Major boulevards showed desperation she had only glimpsed in Washington in those shantytowns along the Potomac. The Amazons were living proof that a dense community could live in comfort without indoor plumbing or refrigerators, but Man’s World must have forgotten how. Perhaps they had never learned. There was some connection here between relative poverty and misery, though the equation was a puzzle to Diana. Man’s World seemed organized terribly, leaving many without satisfying work or even food, though it appeared there was plenty of both to share. Not for the first time, Diana concluded that these nations needed a good queen.
But Diana would not be distracted for long. In market squares where the people seemed friendly, Diana approached strangers and asked, “Aeroporto?” Occasionally, she would add some Spanish, deciding it couldn’t hurt: “Donde esta aeroporto?” She received many shrugs, others retreated, but a few strangers tried to speak to her, and a few of these also pointed. They tended to point in opposite directions, but Diana averaged the responses together and headed where the consensus directed her. Then, when she reached another busy park or courtyard, she tried her survey again.
Diana was cheered that the locals seemed to believe an airport existed here, but it concerned her that she hadn’t seen any aircraft. Aircraft might have been the most incredible feature of Man’s world. When Diana had arrived in America, the sight of them had been spellbinding. Even months later, nothing compared to watching a big plane climb the horizon from a distant field. If any planes had taken off around Sao Luis, Diana would have noticed.
After several hours of wandering in what Diana hoped was roughly a single direction, she found a towering industrial complex on one of the city’s tiny hills – Diana guessed it was a metal refinery, though the site was rusting and empty. It had several smokestacks which formed some of the tallest points in Sao Luis. Diana entered and found ladders fixed to the smokestacks. She choose one that would best conceal her ascent, then climbed.
Evening was coming, but there was enough light for Diana to study the landscape. She laid on the rim of a smokestack and looked around. In minutes, she found a square of familiar grassy strips flanked by long buildings at the edge of her vision, well beyond the outskirts of the city. Diana hurried down the ladder, dropping the last thirty feet. She raced down the road, her gazelle-like pace pulling at the seams of her decrepit boots. When the urban bustle began to thin, Diana moved off the road. There was no empty land here. Beyond the edge of any developed lot was an endless forest of low raffia palms. The plants were so dense and rank, Diana had the notion that if Sao Luis was abandoned, the city would be swallowed by forest within in a week.
When Diana arrived at her pre-observed site, she stayed in the treeline. Diana realized that it was airfield. Two things were clear: it was very small and very American. This second fact was not a total surprise; Steve had once mentioned that the United States kept military bases in other countries. Fortunately, it meant any flights were very likely headed in that direction, but Diana realized that she would have to leave discreetly (she later recognized that she wouldn’t have been able to buy a ticket anyhow, so discretion was inevitable).
There were no aircraft on the field. She watched as the sun set, seeing little activity of any kind. Diana slept in the forest, and was woken by the noise of prop engines landing. The bird nosing down the little runway was painted an old mottled green with a white star stenciled on its side. It was a Douglas DC-3, a sleek transport which Diana recognized because the only thing Captain Steve Trevor loved more than studying the world’s aircraft was sharing his knowledge of aircraft with her at every opportunity. Diana rarely understood what he was saying, but she recalled some examples through sheer repetition, and the DC-3 was mighty popular. The aircraft taxied to a stop in a simple, open-faced hanger, then men in uniform unloaded crates from its belly and carted them away. Other men inspected panels and attached a fuel line. When these tasks were done, the original men returned with more crates which they piled nearby.
When the hanger and field were empty again, Diana dashed in. There was no fence here and few sentries. The men had retreated to far buildings to escape the late morning heat. Diana crossed several hundred feet of empty grass to reach the hanger, but no one interrupted her.
Diana examined the new crates. They were stamped with numbers and acronyms she didn’t recognize. There was a clipboard left on one. It held a cargo itinerary. The crates would be leaving at fourteen hundred hours with refueling stops at Georgetown, then San Juan, before their final destination in Jacksonville. Of those place, Diana only recognized Georgetown, a neighborhood in Washington, but that was fine. Convenient even. She knew the area.
Later, at fourteen hundred hours, the DC-3, aka, Navy Flight Gator 7 taxied around the grassy runway of United States Provisional Airstrip – Sao Luis. Gator 7 made its final ground adjustments as Gator 7 readied for takeoff. The airliner began to creep down the runway, gently picking up speed. There were brief seconds between its crawling start and reaching highway speeds when Gator 7 was moving as fast as a man could jog. During this crucial spot, Wonder Woman appeared from behind a water tower and sprinted toward the plane. Pumping her arms faster than the eye could track, she pulled alongside the accelerating aircraft, edging near the tires. For an instant, they matched pace, then the accelerating plane started to pull away. Wonder Woman dived, catching a strut of the landing gear. The plane dragged her for a dozen yards, then she bucked upward and wrapped her legs around the strut as well, inches above the tires.
Soon Gator 7 tilted back and was airborne. Wonder Wonder clung like a tick as the winds pulled at her and vertigo distorted her senses. Then the strut began to move, compressing upward into a small compartment that did not fit her. Wonder Woman scrambled down until she was only hanging from the axle of the tire, which stopped stop half-way inside the fuselage. Wonder Woman swayed back and forth, her cheeks and ears turning red from the flaying wind. She left out a deep breath, then let go with her right hand and pulled up her golden lasso. In a minute’s bitter struggle, she wrapped the invincible cord tightly around the strut, then tied the other end around her waist.
Once secured, Wonder Woman took a deep breath. Next stop: Georgetown.
Miles away, in the little command office of United States Provisional Airstrip – Sao Luis, the flight controller and his assistant debated how they would report what they just saw. They agreed it was a local daredevil, some young buck, no doubt. Probably did it on a dare; the locals were always curious about the airstrip. The poor idiot was certainly dead. There were twenty different ways he was dead. No question about it. Brave kid. They radioed the pilot, but the pilot told them they were delusional; he hadn’t felt anything. Eventually, the flight controller decided that he would leave the incident out of his report. Otherwise command might make them find the body, and that might have landed anywhere.
---
Many hours later.
Wonder Woman – exhausted, frozen, starving, and drenched with salt water in every windswept pore – dragged herself out of the surf and onto the Florida beach. She pulled a jellyfish from her hair and dropped it on the sand.
She was wiser now. She knew now that Georgetown wasn’t just a neighborhood in Washington. It was also a city in Guyana. Guyana was a country near Brazil and not near the United States of America and certainly not near Gotham City. When Wonder Woman’s aircraft began to descend, she saw its landing strip and assumed she was back in America. To avoid detection, she let go of the plane when it was still a mile from landing. Wonder Woman plummeted onto the roof of a building, causing her immense pain and the thrill of success. When she could walk again, she kept the pain but lost the thrill of success because she soon learned that she was on the wrong continent.
It took some effort, but she made it to the nearby Georgetown airport where her flight had landed without her. When it took off again, she was clinging to it once more. This time, her plane crossed many miles of ocean, and she dropped as soon as she saw the coastline. This was smart. Dropping into water was much less painful, but this time she had no idea where her plane landed. When she reached shore, she learned that she was in Puerto Rico, which turned out to be America, sort of, but was still an island, and English was still rare. She also learned that she was on Puerto Rico’s south coast, and her plane’s destination, San Juan, was on the island’s north coast.
Eventually, and through extraordinary effort, Wonder Woman reached San Juan. She found the military base where her flight had landed. Of course, that plane had long since taken off. However, nothing could shake her Amazonian determination, and Woman Woman soon caught another flight to the mainland.
She promptly released said airplane as soon as she spied land. By now Wonder Woman was an old pro at letting go of aircraft, and she hit the water with excellent form. This last swim was short, but she was weary from a day and night of rigorous work and brutal exposure to the elements. When she made it to shore, her stomach was tied in knots of hunger. She had forgotten any other way stomachs could feel. She took her first steps and the first thing she saw was a hot dog stand flying the Stars and Stripes.
Wonder Woman stumbled to it and seized the owner by his collar. “Is this America? Esta this-a America?”
The owner flinched. “Sure.”
“Land America, not Sea America?”
“What?”
She shook him. “Can I go to every place without a plane?”
“Yeah, yeah. You could drive to Alaska if you wanted.”
She yelled in his face. “Can I have a hot dog?”
“Lady, if you let go of me, I’ll give ya two hot dogs.”
Wonder Woman stared at the hot dog man then pulled him in for a tight hug. “Gods bless America.”
---
Many hours later. Georgetown, Washington D.C.
Diana Prince walked out of her apartment carrying two large canvas bags and a short spear. She realized that the perpetrator of her ship attack likely thought she was dead, and visiting her apartment would suggest to them otherwise if they bothered to visit. That was a risk she would take. She needed money and spare clothes and her tools of war. Now she felt prepared.
Diana walked to the main road. She shuffled both bags and her spear under one arm and stuck her thumb out in Man’s standard hitchhiking gesture. Eventually, an old bus pulled up. There were ten nuns inside. The eldest nun was at the steering wheel. She faced Diana and smiled blissfully. “Where do you wish to go, sweet child?”
Diana pointed. “North.”
“Then you are welcome to join us. We’re journeying to Philadelphia.”
“Oh, thank you very much.” Diana quickly climbed aboard. There was a single seat left, though it was a tight fit. The bus puttered down the road. The nun next to Diana looked oddly at her spear. Diana tried to put on a casual voice and remarked, “This is … for a play.”
Other nuns turned and inspected it. One large nun asked, “You’re an actress, child?”
Diana looked at the spear. “Um. Yes. I had to pick up a prop for rehearsal. We’re performing, uh, Shakespeare.”
The large nun clapped. “Oh, very good. I teach theater at a local college. Which Shakespeare play are you performing?”
Diana squinted. “Um ... Shakespeare?”
“You’re performing … Shakespeare … by Shakespeare?”
“It’s one of his less famous works.”
---
The next night. Gotham City.
Dr. Lyle Pemberly reclined on his ottoman in his red smoking jacket. He had a lit cigar in one hand, a glass of port in the other, and Delta blues on the Victrola. All was right in the world.
His world, anyway. Hitler’s goons were scattering the Red Army from the Baltics to the Black Sea. Argentina was threatening to expel the American embassy over the murder of a Spanish diplomat by an alleged tourist, and Carmine Falcone was still missing after having been kidnapped in broad daylight (the reward for his recovery headlined every paper in town for a week).
But Dr. Pemberly was retired from all that. They were interesting, in an academic way, but little else. That was the beauty of being an academic. He could watch interesting things from a distance, comment on them, and move on. It left him free to pursue life’s more tangible pleasures. And no one interrupted his private time.
There was a knock at his front door.
Puzzled, Dr. Pemberly stood and laid down his cigar and glass. He lifted the needle from the record, and the slow horns went silent. Tightening the belt on his jacket, Dr. Pemberly shuffled to his foyer. He opened the door a crack. “Hello?”
On his porch stood Diana Prince in a yellow dress. Her glasses were missing. Her hair was still in a bun, but it was messy now, with long black locks loose down her shoulders. That incredible poise he remembered was, while not quite gone, loosened perhaps. Unwound. She looked like she hadn’t been sleeping well. She looked very focused.
She smiled. “Hello, Doctor. May I speak with you?”
“Diana? W-what on Earth are you doing here?”
She pushed the door further and walked inside. “Forgive me, but I must ask a few minutes of your time.” Diana closed the door and loomed over him.
Dr. Pemberly stepped back and led her to his couch. “This is most irregular. Where is Captain Trevor?”
Diana sat beside Dr. Pemberly and faced him, saying nothing.
He frowned. “Is he in trouble?”
Diana folded her hands. “Doctor, Steve, uh, Captain Trevor brought me to you before because he judged that you could keep a secret. He said you no longer swore duty to any master in your advanced age.”
“My what?”
“He said you were independent. A venerable statesmen. Is this true? Can you keep a secret for me? Even from authorities?”
“Authorities? Ms. Prince, you’re not involved in anything criminal are you?” He had a sudden thought and his face froze. “Oh dear, tell me this is not about the-” he leaned in and whispered, “-the Batman.” He stopped whispering. “I warned you not to get involved in that.”
Diana shook her head. “No, no. I drove the Batman away. That has nothing to do with this.”
Dr. Pemberly gasped. If he had a monocle and a glass of champagne, the first would have fallen into the second. “Great Scott! You met the Batman?”
“Please, Doctor, I must speak of something important. Can you keep my words secret?”
Dr. Pemberly studied the wall, his face bunched in conflict. “Against my better judgment, I will hear you out.” He turned to her. “If I feel your words don’t threaten a great harm, I won’t voluntarily share them with anyone. However, if the ‘authorities’ discover that we talked and force me to testify, I will.”
“Oh, thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much.”
“Thank my raw curiosity. Now, what’s the problem?”
“You are an expert on the world’s nations, yes? Steve said no one knew more about the laws and ways of different lands.”
Dr. Pemberly shrugged. “At the risk of immodesty, yes. International relations are my life’s work.”
Diana took a deep steadying breath. “Captain Trevor has been arrested, Doctor.”
“Oh?”
“In Argentina.”
“Ah. I’m sorry to hear that. Well, if you’ve come for advice, you needn’t have played all the cloak and dagger, you know. He’s a military man. I’m sure those chaps are doing everything they can to liberate him. He seemed a stand-up sort; it can’t be all that bad. If he needs private counsel, I know a law firm who keeps clients all over Latin America. I believe they do criminal cases. I’ll put you in touch.”
Diana stood and gave a harsh gesture for him to stop. “No! He was there to spy, Doctor! I do not think lawyers can help him now.”
“I shouldn’t be told this. How do you know?”
“I was there to spy as well.”
“I really shouldn’t be told this.”
“But I fled. Perhaps the military of America will try to free him, but perhaps they will not, or perhaps they will fail. I can’t rest on that chance.”
“What do you asking?”
“You know the ways of the world.” She pointed at him like this was an accusation. “I will rescue him myself. But I must find him. Where do the lords of Argentina keep their most hated captives?”
“You want to know where Buenos Aires imprisons foreigners guilty of espionage?”
“Not just the city. This happened in their farmlands.”
“My mistake.”
“And also killing.”
“Pardon?”
“Spying and killing. Both justified. He only hurt the worst cruel man.”
“Assassination? In a neutral country? What madman authorized a mission like that?”
“When you say ‘mission’, it wasn’t quite the-”
“Wait, is this the business with the diplomat? Oh, no. I’m sorry.”
“How can I find him?”
“My dear, I doubt there’s one chance in ten Captain Trevor is still alive. I’m sorry. And if he is, he’ll be kept in a terrible prison, indeed. And you’re right, I can’t imagine the government will help you now.”
“I have faith he’s alive. And I don’t fear any prison. I can get him. I just need to find him.”
“If he is alive, I imagine the only people who know his whereabouts are high-ranking Argentinian security officers. Plus the jailers themselves.”
“Can you list for me these security officer’s names and where they can be found?”
“Off the top of my head, no.”
“No?”
“I’ve been out of the business for years, Diana, and my specialty is law, not spying. I don’t know every secret policeman in every foreign service. Perhaps with a little time, I might be able to rattle a few old sources and get you some names.”
Diana huffed. “Very well. I’ll start with them.”
“Hold your horses. I didn’t say I’d do it.”
“Why not?”
“Why not? Because I might be abetting any number of felonies. That’s why not.”
“This is for justice. It is the virtuous choice.”
“It’s not just myself I’m worried about. You call it the virtuous choice, do you? You’re a spy, you must know how unbalanced the situation is in Argentina. Forget jail, if you caused a diplomatic flare-up, it might threaten peace in a whole corner of the globe. There aren’t many peaceful corners left!”
“Then I will be careful.”
Dr. Pemberly stood. “I’ll think about it, Diana, and I’ll keep mum about your request, but I doubt I’ll change my mind. That’s my best offer tonight.”
Diana briefly glared at him, then closed her eyes and restrained herself. “Fine. Thank you for keeping my secret. I suppose I’ll have to find someone who’s willing to help me.” Diana turned and headed for the door.
Dr. Pemberly paced after her. “Wait, you don’t mean find someone here in Gotham City, do you?”
Diana let go of the knob and looked back suspiciously. “No. Maybe. Why?”
“How long have you been in the city?”
“Part of a day.”
“Oh.” Dr. Perberly glanced around at his windows and seemed to shrink against the wall.
“What?”
“You won’t want to spend much longer here, my dear. This may sound unkind, but perhaps you were fortunate to be sent to Argentina.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Batman, Diana. You said you faced the Batman.”
“Yes. He tried to hurt me, but I scared him off.”
“I don’t know your business with him, and I don’t think I want to know, but if he doesn’t like you, then he’ll track you, my dear. Yes he will. You need to leave. Take the first train out of town. Out of state, even.”
“How could he find me in this enormous place? Besides, I was the one who found him.”
Dr. Pemberly looked at her gravely. “Listen, do you know what people here call him?”
“Don’t they call him ‘The Batman’?”
“Yes, but he has a nickname. Several, actually, but one is more illustrative than the rest. They call him ‘The World’s Greatest Detective’.”
“Was there a competition?”
“I don’t know who gave him the title, but it’s appropriate.”
“Because he determines guilty criminals?”
“Because he finds guilty criminals. He determines who they are, but that’s the first step to finding them. Which is a task he excels at notoriously. And mind you, it’s just speculation that he only goes after criminals. He might assault anyone. We don’t know what’s passing in his mind.”
Diana blinked in revelation. “I might.”
“Listen, please, you may be a great spy, but you’re clearly on his bad side. You don’t want to be on his bad side. He knows this city. It doesn’t matter if you’re just passing through. He can find anyone.”
“Anyone?”
“Anyone. Men have tried every sort of disguise or bluff, found every hiding spot you can imagine. He finds them quick! It doesn’t matter who’s protecting them.”
“Just this city?”
“What?”
“You said that he knows Gotham City. Does he find people who leave this city?”
“Good, now you’re asking sensible questions. Unfortunately, I’m not sure. I can’t recall any anecdotes of him in other cities. Perhaps you’d be safe in, say, California. Maybe. But you must leave now.”
“Does he work with the authorities?”
“Absolutely not. They can’t protect you.”
“Do the stories say where he lives?”
“No one knows. That’s why you need to get going. He may be anywhere. All I know is that he hunts at night!”
With that, Dr. Pemberly opened his front door and ushered Diana through.
Diana left the porch and headed for the bus stop. She walked deep in thought. Amazons organized their lives into simple goals with clear solutions. To her private disbelief, Diana realized that she possessed both.
---
Two hours later.
When Diana found a fresh wardrobe at her apartment, she had almost discarded the threadbare farmer’s outfit she had worn since Argentina. It was in miserable shape, hardly fit for rags, but Amazons were practical women and reluctant to discard anything, especially clothing, and old habits died hard. She offered a prayer of thanks to her Amazonian sisters for teaching her this wisdom. Along with those valuable rags and boots, Diana wore a surgical mask and had two cotton balls in her nose. Her lower face was further covered in a thick scarf, her hair was pulled under a baseball cap, and she wore long workman’s gloves. There was a flashlight in her pocket. In her hand was her short spear. The weapon gave her an old confidence, though it was useless against her first foe.
Diana stood over the edge of the Meat Pool. The unholy stench was clear even where she stood. Another advantage of carrying a sword: no one in the meatpacking plant had tried to stop her. Still, she imagined that someone would soon. It was time to act. Diana nearly gagged remembering how the contents smelled up close. She took as deep a breath as she could and dropped, sliding down a rope and landing on her feet. The air in the pit stung Diana’s eyes, but she persevered. It wasn’t quite so bad the second time. She regretted that she could confirm that.
Diana had spent the trip here trying to recall every movement of that first night. She knew where she had entered, and she knew how he faced her, but her memories after her first dunking were nearly blank. Somewhere in this waist-high muck, the World’s Greatest Detective had disappeared. Keeping that first deep breath, she waded forward and began poking through the mud-thick gore with her spear. Perhaps he had vanished by a supernatural gift, but if so, why hadn’t he used that skill to escape her earlier? And if there was something supernatural about the pit itself, Diana was sure she could find and master it just as he had. Unless he had been toying with her.
Her spear hit something metal. Diana poked at it several times. There was a metal surface on the floor with holes in it like a sieve. Diana was on her second breath by now, and the effort to hold each was becoming painful. Still, she took a quick third breath, fought down the swell of nausea, and reached under the surface. Her glove and sleeve immediately soaked through up to the shoulder. She felt near the edge of the metal and slipped two fingers into the holes. The metal was fastened in place, but it shook slightly, suggesting it was meant to be moved in some way.
Diana stood and yanked one end of the metal up with her. It was a sort of grate, and there was a dark hole underneath about three yards across. Her action displaced gallons of ancient meat slush which began to slip into the hole like a horrible, sloppy whirlpool. Diana steeled her nerves then jumped in, dropping the grate into its old position above her.
She landed in water, or at least liquid. With the grate closed above her, it was pitch dark. Diana waded forward until she found a low wall and climbed out onto solid metal. The tremendous stench was less oppressive here, gentle enough for her to breath somewhat normally, though still horrendous. She placed her spear down and tried her flashlight, but it wouldn’t work.
Diana thought a moment. She took a deep breath and pulled off her scarf and mask. Then she held her arms out to her sides, turned, and with a flash of groovy technicolor light, there stood Wonder Woman.
Wonder Woman picked up the scarf and mask and fit them back over her face. She was dry now, and her dirty shirt and pants and glove were gone, so she felt less nauseated already. She took out her golden lasso and willed it to light. With this gentle illumination, Wonder Woman found her way through a long tunnel. She didn’t bother trying to guess the purpose of the architecture. She was happy to assume such a place existed only to be unpleasant. In the old legends of Man’s World, that was reason enough.
She explored a long time, following endless pipes and corridors. She had to duck her head just to fit in many of them. Occasionally, a little light appeared from above, but most paths were cut off from the surface completely. There was no sign of Batman, though Wonder Woman still kept her spear at the ready. As she walked, a rat crossed her path. She ignored it. Soon another rat brushed her heel. This almost made her jump, but the creature was gone before she could look.
Soon she turned a corner and saw a phalanx of rats, fat foot-long creatures with sharp teeth. At least a hundred stood perfectly still on their hind legs. The swarm continued beyond the glow of her lasso, Hera knew how far. Wonder Woman wasn’t concerned, but she was very confused. She watched the rats. They watched her. Eventually, she took a step back and turned around. Ten paces later, she almost stepped on another swarm of rats. They had crept up behind her, and like the first, they packed the tunnel from wall to wall, the crowd extending into the darkness. She had been flanked!
And that was fascinating.
Man’s World was full of mysteries, but she had never heard of this kind of rodent behavior. There had to be some significance. As Wonder Woman studied the rats, she heard the echo of footsteps down the tunnel. A shining dot appeared. It grew into the figure of a man holding out a lantern. From the bright lantern, she could see rats parting under him as he walked. The man stopped a few steps away, not quite at the front of the rats’ formation. At first, Wonder Woman thought he was deformed, but she realized he was only wearing an ugly mask.
It muffled his voice, but she understood him well enough. The man whistled. “Wow! They said it was a woman, but I didn’t believe them. Never seen a woman down here. You could knock me over with a feather.”
Wonder Woman nodded. “I could. Who are you?”
“I’m sorry. Allow me to introduce myself.” The man placed his lantern on the floor, casting light up that made his features stark and gruesome. He pulled at some straps on his mask and lifted it off - his face wasn’t much more pleasant. He bowed. “M’lady, I’m Gotham City’s one and only Ratc-” The man sniffed and gagged. “Oh, man!” He pinched his nose and struggled to fit his mask back on. “Augh.” The rats squeaked nervously as he bent over. “That is terrible!”
Wonder Woman stared at him through this ordeal.
Finally, in fits of distress, the man pulled his mask tight and breathed again. “Boy, you smell something fierce lady!” He picked up his lantern and held it near her. “What is wrong with you?”
Wonder Woman looked sheepish. “It was a necessary-”
“Wait. I know that smell. I wish I didn’t, but I do! You smell like Batman!”
Woman Woman gasped and set her spear forward. “You know Batman?”
The man retreated several steps, a wall of rats taking his space and hissing. He pulled a gun from his pants and pointed it at her. “Whoa, hey now, spear-lady. Let’s not get crazy. What’s your name?”
Wonder Woman kept her spear in place. “You say you’ve smelled Batman?”
“Believe me, I couldn’t not smell Batman. Makes you wonder how he ever sneaks up on people. He smells like you, only worse.”
“Are you his ally?”
“Uh, sure. Yep, we’re good friends. Go way back like peas and carrots.”
“Batman is not a vegetable.”
“He is with me, sister.”
“Where is he?”
“What do you want with the guy?”
“That’s my business.”
“If you say so, but you’ve been wandering down here for at least half an hour. Seems you ain’t having much luck.”
“… I have heard Batman is the World’s Greatest Detective.”
“That’s the rumor.”
“I need a great detective.”
“Last I heard, he ain’t for hire. Though you both use the same perfume; that might win you some consideration.”
A note of frustration entered Wonder Woman’s voice. “Can you find him for me?”
“Maybe.” The man gestured with the gun. “What’s he worth to you?”
“Worth?”
“Greenbacks, jewels, food stamps, ammunition, stock certificates. What’cha got?”
“I have nothing to trade.”
“What about that shiny rope?”
Her tone turned to ice. “No.”
“Your loss.”
“I can return with twenty or thirty dollars.”
The man blew a raspberry. “Twenty smackers? For the World’s Greatest Detective?”
She took a step forward, lifting the tip of the spear toward his chin. “It’s all I have.”
The man shuffled another step back. “Listen, I’ll make you a deal. You want to meet Batman. Well, I could use a pleasant conversation. Especially since I haven’t spoken to a girl in-” The man paused and began counting on his fingers. “- a long time.”
Wonder Woman eyed him warily. “You just want to talk?”
“Just a little while. Or you could stand there and be smelly in silence.”
She lowered her spear. “How will you speak with him?”
“I’ll send one of the rats.”
“You can command rats?”
“It’s more like a suggestion.” He slipped his gun into his pants. The swam of rats dispersed into the dark. “Might take him a day to respond.”
“What is your name?”
“Who, me? I’m the one and only Ratcatcher,” the Ratcatcher said with pride.
“The one and only rat-catcher?”
“Darn tootin’.”
“Merciful Minerva! A settlement this vast needs more than one rat-catcher. No wonder Gotham is distressed.”
“No, it’s just-” He sighed. “Never mind. Jeez, how come Batman gets all the cool names? Does he even think of them himself?”
“Ratcatcher is not your name?”
“My real name’s Otis.” Ratcatcher folded his arms and grumbled, “But it’s boring.”
Wonder Woman patted him on the shoulder. “I don’t think it’s boring.”
“No?”
“Not at all. It sounds exotic to me. Oo-tees.”
“Gosh, when you put it like that, it does sound exotic. What’s your name, by the way?”
“My name is Diana.”
“Diana. That’s swell.”
“Ratcatcher, you make suggestions to rats. Do you suppose Batman makes suggestions to bats?”
“No idea.” Ratcatcher pondered this and shivered. “Jeez, I hope not.”
“Oh!” Wonder Woman giggled. “I just thought of something we have in common.”
“What’s that, Diana?”
“You had not talked to a woman in a long time.”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t talk to a man for decades.”
---
The next morning. In stately Wayne Manor.
Bruce Wayne sat at a desk in his study. Several large ledger books were open on the desk, but Bruce wasn’t looking at them. He was rubbing a cream onto the waxy patches of burned skin on his hand. He still wore a finger splint, though the crushed joint was mending nicely. The inflammation had almost disappeared. He expected the hand to reach almost pre-injury fitness by the end of next month. Almost, because no bad injury ever fully healed. Even with the best treatment his hand would be a little slower, a little less flexible forever. That was the stark reality.
He would compensate. The body was weak and ever diminishing, but the mind was strong and could always grow stronger. He would support his weakness with better tools, better plans, and greater devotion to the cause.
“-And that’s why amortizing company-wide toilet supplies across next fiscal year is the only decision with true regulatory approval.”
Bruce looked down at his phone’s speaker. Senior staff from Wayne Enterprises’ Accounting Department were having an important meeting. Accounting was crucial to running a business. Bruce mentally repeated that mantra whenever he studied the topic or sat through a meeting of it. Certain types of accounting were also crucial to crime-fighting, and Bruce found those quite engaging, but even the most malicious corporation processed endless books of non-criminal accounting. As usual, he endured.
“If we examine the next page, we can see a four thousand dollar variance in variance printing budget. I believe we can make it smaller by making it smaller.”
The Manor’s doorbell rang. Bruce stood and spoke into the phone. “I have to step away, gentlemen. Continue without me.” Bruce tore off his neck brace and pulled on his white gloves. He walked out of the study. Alfred was downstairs, but Bruce welcomed the excuse to move. He entered the front hall and opened the door.
Outside stood Nancy Kingsolver. Bruce recognized her. Business outfit. Auburn hair. Round face. Ozark accent. Unnecessarily cheerful. She worked at the company - junior secretary, promotion review in seven months. He noticed she was carrying an envelope and recalled that Nancy was the last courier in his blind notes system. But he hadn’t sent a blind note. That made no sense.
In the time it took Bruce to consider this and a few hypotheses, Nancy’s eyes went as wide as saucers.
“Oh, bless my stars! Hello there, Mr. Wayne.” Nancy curtseyed. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, and, well, listen to me ramble on. Gosh.”
Bruce smiled faintly. “You seem familiar.”
“Nancy, sir. I’m one of your secretaries.”
“Ah. That is familiar. Nancy Kingsolver, right?”
Nancy gasped. “Oh my, yes. Oh, yes. Nancy Kingsolver. Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce chuckled. “Call me Bruce. How can I help you?”
“Well, see, I have this here letter that I check for every morning – mind you, that’s every morning, rain or shine - and this morning there was a letter that the letter, I mean, the mailbox with the-”
“Nancy, Nancy. Why don’t you come in. We can’t have you getting that pretty skin sunburned, now can we?”
Nancy blushed. “Well, I’d be delighted, Mr. Wayne. Thank you kindly. I mean Bruce. Thank you Bruce kindly. I-”
Bruce welcomed her in. “You know, I hear you do great work for us, Nancy.” He had no idea whether she did great work. “I’m very impressed.”
“Really?”
“Sure am. Now what’s this about a letter?”
“Here!” Nancy practically shoved the envelope into his hand. It was stamped with the Falco Deliveries emblem. Bruce casually tossed it in a decorative bowl on a stand.
“Thank you, Nancy. Really appreciate the help.” He offered her a wide grin.
To Bruce’s minor surprise, Nancy didn’t leave. She was still looking at him, turning back and forth and biting her lip.
He raised an eyebrow. “Did you have something else?”
“You know, I delivered a few other letters here before. That sweet old man, Mr. Pennyworth took them.”
“I believe he mentioned that, yes. Nicely done. Stand-up job.” Bruce offered another wide grin.
Nancy still didn’t leave, and now she was batting her eyes at him. “Did you know, Bruce, we usually have a little bite to eat when I come over. Mr. Pennyworth calls it ‘having tea’, but it’s not just tea. He says it’s on account of my traveling so far to get here I miss breakfast. I always tell him that’s not true, but it’s sometimes true, and, well, since you’re here, I don’t suppose you’d ...”
Bruce gestured grandly. “Of course. Say no more, just say no more.” He graciously led her to a pair of chairs near a window. “I’ll only a minute.” Bruce was a practical cook. Mostly, that meant rice. He could also prepare tea. While waiting for the kettle, he dumped a tin of cookies onto a plate. When he returned, Nancy clapped. “What a gentleman. Thank you, Bruce.” He poured the tea and sat. “My pleasure.”
“So, Mr. Bruce Wayne, if it’s not too forward of me to ask, what are you doing in this big house today?”
“Oh, puttering around. I brought some papers home from the office. Need to take a crack at those."
“That’s sounds nice.”
“It might sound nice, but when your home becomes your office, then you can’t really go home, if you know what I mean.”
“Not really.”
“Ah.”
They sipped their tea.
Nancy picked up a cookie and tried to casually ask, “Any plans this evening?”
Bruce shrugged. “Nothing yet. Most nights I’m working or traveling to meetings. Guess I’m lucky tonight.”
“I heard you like to attend a party or two.” She winked conspiratorially. “No parties?”
He wagged a finger. “Don’t believe everything you hear. And no, no parties tonight.”
“When you go to parties these days, are you going with anyone, uh, special?” She quickly ate a cookie as if to conceal the question.
Bruce rubbed his neck. “Heh. Why, no. Can’t say that I am.”
Nancy nodded and looked away, but glanced aside at him. “Do you want to?”
Bruce sighed and stared at the floor. His smile shrank. Then he stood, towering above her.
“Nancy, I think you’re a lovely girl, a real doll. I really want to be nice to you. So for your sake, I’ll lay my cards on the table.” He stared down and gently squeezed her shoulders, his powerful hands inches from her neck. “That said, if you share what I’m about to tell you to anyone, you’ll break me. Do you understand, Nancy? You’ll crack me to my soul, and I’ll never forgive you.” Nancy flinched but nodded. Bruce moved his hands gently to her arms, but his eyes didn’t waver from hers. “Nancy, I have a congenital heart defect. One day my aorta will rip, and there’s nothing to be done about it. Odds are I won’t live to see thirty-five.” She gasped and covered her mouth. He continued like it was nothing. “When people wonder why I break appointments or miss meetings, why I rush out of parties and the like, it’s the chest pain. Some petty little thing bothers me, doesn’t matter what, and I feel it in my ticker.” He tapped his chest. “And I go take a lie down until the feeling stops.”
Nancy had turned pale. “You poor thing! What must your friends say?”
Bruce chuckled without mirth. “I make my excuses, but I doubt it fools anyone. I imagine people think I’m up to some exciting scandal. God!” he grimaced and looked away, “How I wish that was true!” Nancy’s eyes were turning wet. Bruce gave a sad smile and wiped away her first tear. “My dad was a doctor, you see. He discovered the defect when I was a kid, but he told me to keep it a secret. He always said pity would make me weak. I guess he wanted me to grow up normal.”
Nancy’s voice trembled. “How … How do you live with it?”
“Who says I live?”
“Oh, Bruce.”
“Listen, do you know why I’m not married, Nancy? I’ve known plenty of fine ladies. It’s because married couples start families. It’s because this defect, well, there’s a chance I could pass it along if I had a son, and I can’t risk that. Do you understand, Nancy? I won't do it. The curse ends here. And I’m not going to let a woman fall in love with me then tell her she can’t be a mother.”
Nancy was crying openly now. Bruce looked bashful and found her some tissues. “I’m terribly sorry, Nancy. I hate to upset you. I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth.” Nancy buried her face in her hands. Bruce itched his chin. “Let me call you a cab. And if you ever need a favor at the office, I owe you one.”
Once he made the call, he patted Nancy's hand and tried to console her with gentle words. When the cab arrived, he helped her to the door. Alfred Pennyworth walked into the hall as Nancy was saying her goodbyes. She saw Alfred and gave him a little wave from the doorway. Alfred spotted her dried tears, but Bruce shut the door.
Alfred was aghast. "My Lord, Master Bruce. What happened?"
Bruce answered, neither happy nor ashamed, “I told a terrible lie to an innocent person, Alfred. It was a good one, too. Tight. Credible. Played on powerful sympathies. Decent odds she'll spread it around, which would be useful." Bruce made a head-shrug. "I should have thought of it years ago."
He retrieved the envelope from the decorative bowl and opened it. It read:
Dear Falco Deliveries customer,
You or someone with your code has tried to order a package which has already been delivered. Each code matches a single package, so a code can never be used twice. If you believe you reused a code by accident, feel free to try another code at your nearest Falco Deliveries office. Thank you!
Bruce rubbed his eyes. “Rats.”
---
That evening.
Batman waited in his small camp in the tunnels under Gotham City’s food packing district. He hadn’t entered through the Meat Pool; there were scores of other routes here. It didn’t take long for a rat to appear, and Ratcatcher showed up soon afterward, leading only a small pack of thirty-some rats this time.
Ratcatcher waved. “Fancy seeing you around.”
Batman was in much better shape than last time they met, and he nearly pounced on Ratcatcher, grasping him by the shirt before his rats could twitch a whisker.
“How did you send a note? You never saw the original. Do your rats read?”
“A little, yeah. They told me that gibberish on it and an address for each. Just some post office boxes, so I picked one.”
“What do you want?”
“I met this lady last night. She wants to meet you.”
“A woman came here to look for me?”
“Not this exact tunnel, but this area, sure. Smelled just like you.”
Batman’s grip tightened. “Tall? Chest armor? Arm braces? Golden cord?”
“Bingo. Would’ya let a buddy go?”
“Is she here?”
“No, she’s long gone. Left before dawn and hasn't come back. The rats would know.”
“What did she want with me?”
“She said she was looking for a detective. Between you and me, I didn’t expect I could get in touch with you, but I told her I’d arrange a little meeting.”
Batman stared at Ratcatcher then dropped him. “Do it.”