Synergy

[Calico]

Just a little something I came up with as a way of stretching my creative wings. I'm still working on "It's Been Awhile", but I needed to get away from it for a little bit.

This is regular Batman continuity, probably a mix of animated and comics.

Rated PG for now.

Summary - I don't want to give away any surprises. Just think of it as a Stephen King-ish type story.

Let me know if it's something I should continue with.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

Synergy: The interaction of two or more agents or forces so that their combined effect is greater than the sum of their individual effects.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

“I demand a refund…right this minute!”

Jeremy Wolfe counted to ten before responding to the acerbic order, the same one he’d heard five times already. “Ma’am, I’ve already explained to you that I can’t give you cash back without a receipt,” he replied as patiently as possible. The woman standing before him was clearly not running on all cylinders. She was almost a legend in the neighborhood and everyone said she was crazy, but Jeremy tried to keep an open mind about these things. At nineteen he was working his way through Gotham U as a journalism major. Someday he was going to work for a big newspaper like the Gotham Gazette or the Daily Planet in Metropolis. Now he just had to deal with one slightly eccentric customer.

“Well I lost the receipt, but I was just in here two days ago, I would think you could remember that!” Yes of course he could. Three hours on a busy Saturday spent bringing out different sizes and colors and all she had purchased was a cheap pair of pumps. Now it was Monday evening and she said they just weren’t right. Jeremy would just as soon give the lady her money and be done with it, but rules were rules, and old man Quincy who owned the store would have his head if he broke them.

“I know ma’am, but I cannot give you money without the receipt.” He felt a little sorry for her. It almost seemed that her aggression was a mask for her loneliness, not that he had any real evidence to back it up. She wasn’t exactly attractive, though he wouldn’t go so far as to say she was ugly either. Medium length, straw-colored hair that was swept back in a clip, pale blue eyes that were really quite pretty if you looked at them long enough, a nose that was just slightly too big for her face, and a mouth that preferred to frown, though he had seen her smile briefly and found it to be lovely. He would have been hard pressed to guess her age. She was certainly older than twenty, but not anywhere near forty. And sometimes when she looked at him it was almost like she wasn’t quite there. When he had asked Renee, the girl who helped out on the weekends, about it after she had departed on Saturday, all Renee did was shrug. The lady was crazy after all.

“Well if you can’t help me, get someone who can,” she finally demanded with a petulant stomp of her foot.

“The owner is the one who would have to authorize the transaction, and he’s gone home for the evening. I work the closing shift. You’ll have to come back tomorrow morning to speak with him.”

“Tomorrow?” she asked as if he’d told her she needed to fly out to the moon to complete her business. “I’ve got important things to do tomorrow.”

I doubt It, Jeremy thought to himself. Before he could offer any verbal platitudes, the bell over the front door jangled and a man wearing a dark ski mask walked through brandishing a shotgun. You’ve got to be kidding. Who would want to rob a shoe store?

There were three other customers browsing the shop even though it was a half hour till closing. The gunman swept his weapon in a wide arc, announcing, “Everybody down on the ground! This is a stickup!”

Gasps of shock were heard as the three people dove for cover. Jeremy looked over at the guy. “You’ve got to know I can’t get into the safe,” he tried to explain. Mr. Quincy didn’t trust anybody. A bright flash of light erupted from the tip of the shotgun and a display of shoe polish exploded behind the young clerk. He dropped to the floor as if the rug had been pulled out from under him. Looking up he was not exactly surprised to see his customer still standing at the counter as if nothing were happening. “Lady!” he hissed. “Get down!”

She frowned at him. “I still have business to attend to and don’t you think I’m getting down on this filthy floor. Don’t you people ever clean around here?” Jeremy could only groan to himself.

“Lady, you better drop to the floor, or your going to have a couple extra holes,” the gunman spoke to her.

Jeremy saw her round on him very slowly and his heart thudded a little faster. He really didn’t want to see her get hurt, no matter how obnoxious she was.

“Are you threatening me, you cowardly piece of garbage?”

“Threaten? No, I’m promising you that you won’t live to buy another pair of shoes unless you DROP TO THE GROUND!” he yelled.

Things didn’t seem to be able to get much worse until there was a loud crash as the shop’s large plate-glass window imploded and a menacingly dark figure swung in like some new-aged Tarzan. Jeremy had heard stories about Gotham’s vigilante guardian, the Dark Knight, but he had never really put much stock in the myth. Now as the man who would be a bat swept into the store, he found himself suddenly converted.

The robber lunged forward as glass pelted everything in a ten-foot radius and seized the lady around the neck. “Don’t move Batman or she gets it,” he commanded the cloaked figure. The white eyes of his cowl glowed like an otherworldly demon.

Batman had no chance to respond to the threat as the woman said in an almost bored voice, “You wouldn’t dare you lily-livered creep.”

“You think I’m afraid of the Bat?” he asked her and Jeremy saw him tighten his grip around her throat.

“I don’t care if you’re afraid of the Tooth Fairy,” she grunted, her words still laced with contempt.

“Lady,” he said bending down close to her ear. “Shut up!”

But his attention had been distracted. Batman, who had stood stock-still through the entire exchange, took advantage of the distraction. He surged forward, catching hold of the gun with his left hand while his right delivered a powerful karate chop to the man’s shoulder blade. The would-be robber screamed in agony and fell backwards, calling out the filthiest language Jeremy had not heard since he and his brother were playing catch in the house and broke the television right before his father was due to watch the seventh game of the World Series when the Gotham Knights were battling it out against the Yankees.

“Took you long enough,” the lady sniffed, rubbing her throat where the goon’s arm had trapped her. Batman seemed to consider her words for a moment before turning away and exiting the shop in a much more subdued manner than he had entered. Jeremy stood up and reached for the phone to call the police. His trembling finger was hovering over the ‘9’ when he heard from behind, “About my refund?”

<<<<<<>>>>>>

Penelope wasn’t crazy. At least she didn’t think she was. Just misunderstood. Now that Bat character, he had a screw or two loose. Those stunts he pulled were going to get somebody killed one of these days.

She was walking down the sidewalk. It was practically deserted. She brought her left arm up and pulled the sleeve over her overcoat back to look at her watch. Ten minutes till midnight. How had it gotten so late? It seemed like only a few minutes ago that she was in the shoe store. The police had come, and an ambulance to take care of the creep who had tried to hurt her. An officer in his blue uniform asked her some questions and she had told him that it was none of his business. There was talk about police procedures and the necessity of taking her eyewitness statement, but Penelope would have none of it. What were they going to do, arrest her?

Now what street was she on? She was at a corner and looked up at the green crisscrossed signs, but they didn’t make any sense to her. She could read just fine, but sometimes…She wasn’t crazy, but sometimes it was like her mind had a blind spot, or more correctly like a record with a skip in it. She knew where she was though, the same place she wandered to late at night at least once a year. She remembered, sort of. It had to do with her past.

There was a box under her arm. The shoes. She had been trying to return the shoes, but she didn’t. Why not? She shrugged indifferently and stuffed the box down a nearby trashcan. She didn’t like the color anyway.

A few more blocks down the avenue and she spotted the park. During the day it was normally swarming with people, small children playing on its equipment, office workers taking a relaxing lunch break under the midday sun. But now, in the dead of night it was desolate and empty. Well not exactly empty.

Penelope paid no attention to the little voice in her head that said only an insane person would walk around the park at night. She was not insane.

The air was crisp and cool and the grass was damp with dew that soaked the cuffs of her slacks. She walked to a park bench and sat down. It was all so familiar. There was a small stage over to the right where local bands would perform in the waning summer evenings. Behind that was a bike path. Playground equipment rose like benevolent monsters in the moonlight straight ahead. She closed her eyes and could almost hear the cries of laughter and squeals of joy echoing between the tall oak trees.

Then there were real sounds, low speech and footsteps treading on the lawn behind her. A prickle of fear caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. Her heart raced and though her eyes were still closed she could clearly envision the approaching visitors. Three men, one with brown hair, one with darker, almost black hair, and the third bald. They were dressed in jeans and t-shirts, the bald-headed one sporting a leather jacket with silver chains dangling from it. He also had a knife in the side pocket. He was the most dangerous of the trio.

“Hold up,” the black-haired boy said. “There’s someone sitting over there.”

“You think she heard us?” the second one asked. They were barely out of their teens.

The bald-headed one, who was a man and had been since his first kill on his seventeenth birthday, replied, “We don’t take no chances. Ice her.”

Penelope smiled. Her mind opened up like it hadn’t in a long time, as if someone had fine-tuned the static from a television set, and she felt The Other slip inside. Eyes still shut tight, she watched the two boys advance on her. One of them pulled out a thin rope: a garrote. He approached first, treading as silently as possible, though the grass sung his steps like a church choir. Inexplicably the second boy kicked him in the rear end.

“Hey, watch it!” he called out and Penelope had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

“I-I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to do it, I swear!”

“What’s wrong with you two?” the larger man demanded. “Can’t you do one simple thing? Let me take care of her.”

He was like a bull charging forward, pulling out the large knife that still had the blood of many kills on it. He was ten feet away, then five feet, then he was right behind her and the knife swept down to do its lethal business…

And stopped, hovering six inches away from the delicate skin of her throat. “What the…?” the bald-man sputtered in her ear. “I can’t move. Get over here and help me you lug nuts!”

A boy on each side of him tried to pry his arm away, tried to move his legs, but to no avail. Then the laughter came, like peels from a bell, soft but growing stronger. Her lips spread in a wide smile as her mind’s eye watched the comical efforts of the three.

“Why’s she laughing Clem?” one of the boys asked in a fearful voice. “It’s kind of creepy, like the kind of laughter you’d hear up at Arkham.”

And that made her laugh even harder. Arkham Asylum. She hadn’t thought about that place in years. Crazy people lived there.

The knife started vibrating in Clem’s hand and he groaned with the effort to keep it in his grasp, until the vibrations turned to heat and he could hold on no longer. As soon as he released the grip he was freed from his paralysis and all three of them fell backwards onto the ground with groans. The knife alone hung in the air before her. Penelope opened her eyes and saw it for the first time. It was a large hunting knife with an ivory handle. Her hand came up and she caught it gingerly between her thumb and forefinger.

She stood and faced them, all three clamoring backwards on their hands and feet like oversized crabs, fear written on their faces as if by magic marker.

“Stop,” she said quietly, and they did, a frozen tableau as funny as it was terrifying. She walked around the bench and stood at their feet. “You would kill me?” she asked. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she recalled the masked man who’d used her as a shield against the vigilante. Was she a magnet for danger? She thought not. This was Gotham after all.

She relaxed her fingers and the knife hung in midair for a moment then moved on its own over the three prone figures, and then it started to spin, slowly at first then picking up speed until it was a swirl of blurred color, throwing off sparks from the moonlight that streamed down through the trees. The blur started to move horizontally over the men, back and forth. Their eyes followed, wide with dread of what was to come next.

“So, who wants it?” she queried pleasantly. “You may speak.”

“No, please don’t do this,” the brown-haired boy cried out.

“But you would’ve killed me,” she explained patiently. “Why shouldn’t I do the same to you?”

“Oh God, we’re sorry!” the other boy said, tears dripping from the corner of his eyes. “It was all Clem’s doing. We don’t want to have anything to do with the drugs!”

“Shut up you moron,” Clem ordered.

“No, my brother’s right. We won’t do this anymore. We’ll go straight, get jobs. We promise, right?” he called over.

“R-right. Definitely. No more of this stuff.”

“You two are a pair of losers,” Clem gritted through his teeth.

“Okay, your word is your bond. But if you break it I swear you will suffer. Is that clear?” The boys nodded emphatically. “Very well. You may go.” The invisible shackles detached, they leapt up and ran back through the park and out of sight. The hovering knife now centered above Clem. “You have blood on your hands,” she told him.

“I’ll have more once I get my hands on you,” he told her.

“You’re not really in a position to be making threats are you?” she asked coldly. “You’re corrupting boys, making them monsters like you. Why should I let you live?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. Just do it or let me go.”

Penelope closed her eyes again and rocked slightly on her feet; she could feel the surge of power waning, The Other wouldn’t be around for much longer. He was a bad man, evil even. It would be so easy, the knife would pierce the heart and he would be gone forever, taking his evilness with him. The knife stopped spinning and flew towards the earth with the speed of a bullet, burying itself in the ground to the hilt an inch from Clem’s left ear. He howled in fear as it sliced the air.

“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!” he cried out, breathing erratically.

She bent over his still frozen body and touched the fingertips of her left hand to his forehead. “Peace,” she murmured. He sucked in a lungful of air, his entire body seized as if shot through with an electrical current, and then collapsed to the ground, unconscious. It might work she told herself. If there were a grain of good in his mind it would blossom fully. If and only if. Otherwise his peace would be of a more permanent variety.

She walked carefully out of the park and emerged back on the sidewalk. Dawn would be coming in a few hours and she wanted to watch it bring a new day, a new promise of hope.

Two blocks further up she stopped and looked around. Where had she been going? And why was she out so late?

<<<<<<>>>>>>

Batman watched the woman as she moved along the deserted sidewalk. She was talking to herself, looking confused, but not the least bit frightened, and why should she be? He had witnessed the scene in the park, thoroughly amazed and even more concerned. He had held a Batarang ready as she dangled the knife over them with only the force of her mind, but waited before interfering to see what she would do. When she had left he dropped down and checked the body of the man he’d been watching for months who was involved in some serious drug trafficking. Clem’s pulse was strong and he lay there with the most tranquil smile he had ever worn on his weathered face. An anonymous call alerted the authorities to send an ambulance for his body.

He followed the woman until she came to an apartment building and watched as she entered the front door. He made note of the address and shot a grapnel to start his journey back to the Batmobile and then on to the Cave. He had some serious investigating to do.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

[Panther]

Sorry I didn't reply sooner! I just got some computer problems worked out. Interesting beginning. The shoestore scene was funny, despite the seriouness of the situation. I liked how you then presented the "insider" look on insanity. Penelope is quite a character. Is she waiting for someone, I wonder, like the Greek heroine she is named after? I can't wait to read more about this Other as well.

later,

[Bleu Unicorn]

Thought I wouldn't do it, did you?

Lesse, it's been awhile since I read this, so forgive my absent-minded brain. I truly found this entertaining. I like this new character... very intriguing. As always, though Calico you just have a way of nailing, absolutely nailing, Bruce's thoughts. It's kind of scary almost, but I think it's great.

You have a wonderful way of writing, that absolutely impresses me to no end. You really take the reader right there -- and so many people have a hard time with that. It's definitely a wonderful talent of yours (and a ton of others on this board).

So, where is the rest, hmm?

[witness]

Bleu, thanks for bringing this to my attention again. I had completely forgotten about this story! As Panther said before, the shoe scene was hilarious, yet serious as well. Once again you do an excellent job of lightening the situation, even though the reader knows that what they are reading is a very dangerous situation to be in. Kudos to you. I'm wondering too, where is the rest of it? Are you waiting for more responses, or are you going to finish "It's Been Awhile" first before you continue with this one?

Patiently waiting!

[Calico]

*Blink Blink*

Hookay...Just so everyone knows, Bleu follows through on her threats. Beware!

I do have a bit of the rest floating around in my head. I guess I'll have to sit down and work through them. Thanks for the morale boost guys! You're the best.

[Bleu Unicorn]

Originally posted by Calico
*Blink Blink*

Hookay...Just so everyone knows, Bleu follows through on her threats. Beware!

LOL!

Now see, if you'd just had more faith in your adoring fans, you'd never have had to learn that the hard way! Mwahahahaha! <cough> Err.... anyway... I'll just, uh, wait here for the rest of the story... <sits down and waits, very patiently>

[Fish]

ahhh! where is the rest? I want more of this story! it's very cool - It's also kinda like an episode of the Xfiles with Batman in it...can it be much better? I think not *g*


<>< F I S H ><>

[Calico]

Alrighty, you asked for it! Not very exciting I'm afraid, but it gets the story moving. Thanks for your support!

<<<<<<>>>>>>

“Any luck on your search, Master Bruce?” the cultured voice of Alfred Pennyworth spoke softly over his shoulder.

“There are seventy-five residents of that apartment complex. I believe I’ve narrowed it down to a twenty-nine years old woman named Penelope Roberts who lives in the penthouse suite. I can’t be certain though, because I can’t find a photograph of her, no driver’s license on file,” Batman scanned the data streaming across his computer screen.

“This is the young woman you witnessed in the park this evening, sir? The one with the unusual abilities?”

“Right.”

“What makes you think this Penelope Roberts could be her?”

“Just a hunch. She has no living relatives, since her mother died six months ago. At that time she was a resident of Arkham.”

“Oh dear,” Alfred replied. “What on earth for?”

“Twenty-five years ago Margaret Roberts slaughtered four of her five children,” Batman replied with barely concealed contempt. “Penelope was four years old. She witnessed the whole thing.”

“Do you believe this may be a corollary to her powers?”

“I don’t know. Tonight I think I’ll pay a little visit to Ms. Roberts and find out.”

<<<<<<>>>>>>

Penelope tossed in her sleep. The one place she truly lost control of her mind was in her dreams. Sometimes she’d awaken to find furniture overturned, mirrors broken, garbage strewn across the floor. Any other person might think they had been sleepwalking. Penelope didn’t think about it at all.

She slept through most of the day following her outing in the park, dreaming and remembering, her moans spooking the small gray cat that shared her apartment. Phoenix had been close to death when she found him in the middle of a pile of discarded rags behind her building. Having never had pets as a child she didn’t immediately turn her attention to the pathetic thing, but in the end some part of her decided it shouldn’t be allowed to die in such a degrading manner. Scooping the small, emaciated kitten up in her hands, she carried it to the closest animal hospital and gave orders that all measures be taken to save its life and she would foot the bill. Three weeks later she was taken aback when the nurse called to tell her she could pick up her cat.

“It’s not my cat,” she told the woman.

“Well someone needs to claim him or he’ll go to a shelter and if no one adopts him, then…”

Penelope had heaved a well-put-upon sigh. “Oh very well.”

Now she and the cat, who was a solid smoke-gray color like the ashes his namesake arose from, coexisted like a pair of mismatched roommates.

Phoenix leapt onto the bed and walked slowly up the length of the prone figure, stopping every so often to sniff in curiosity. Like all his feline brethren, he possessed an uncanny ability to read human emotion on a very basic level, though this one seemed to broadcast in vivid Technicolor with Dolby Surround Sound. She was in great turmoil while in the midst of her catnap. Phoenix would have liked to comfort her with soothing tongue bath, but he’d learned the hard lesson that this two-foot was most dangerous when asleep.

Penelope rolled over and clutched at her pillow, crying out softly. Her dresser rattled as if a medium-sized earthquake was going on outside.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

25 years ago….

Danny Roberts was an easy-going redheaded Irishman with a firm handshake and a firmer love of his family. He doted on his wife Margaret, a small, quiet woman with faded blonde hair and no ambition greater than to please her husband. Four children filled their small house, two boys and two girls, with a fifth on the way, just to break the tie. Danny was a construction worker who had helped put up many of the buildings that would comprise Gotham’s growing financial district. He had even been on the crew of the Wayne Enterprises project, quite the talk of the town in its day.

One Thursday morning, like every weekday morning before, Danny got up, kissed his wife and kids goodbye, and went to work as usual at the site of a new high-rise apartment complex. He rode the lift ten stories up to his assigned spot, smiling and waving greetings to his co-workers, and by the midday break had fallen to his death.

A month to the day later, Margaret gave birth to a six-pound baby girl that she named Penelope Quinn. It was a moment as somber as it was joyful. As the child gulped her first breath and let out the cry of new life, various hospital staff noted an unexplainable flickering of the lights throughout the building.

Investigations into the accident showed that an improperly welded girder had shifted as Danny was walking along it causing him to lose his balance and plummet to the ground. The company fearing a costly lawsuit settled out of court with the Roberts family for the sum of $2.2 million.

Having been raised by a strictly religious family, Margaret eschewed luxury of any sort, choosing to live a simple life. On the advice of her lawyer, she placed the settlement into a high interest bearing savings account to provide for her children’s futures. In the meantime she supported her little family with mending and other sewing projects she could take in.

As the years drew on, she became increasingly dependent on her faith to get through the days while coping with the grief over the loss of her beloved husband. The day she walked into the girls’ bedroom and witnessed two dozen wooden cubes, their sides marked with letters or numbers, flying unaided around four-year-old Penelope’s head, dancing and zigging as the child laughed and pointed at them, something inside of her snapped.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

[Panther]

FINALLY!!!!!!

At last - more to read! /Please/ don't take so long with the next chapter! You've really got me hocked with this Penelope character - both with her ..uhh.. /interesting/ background and her personality. I loooove her cat's view of her. I love all of it, despite the fact its very much a tragedy, so please post more!

later,

[Bleu Unicorn]

I'm baaaaack!

Miss me?

This is definitely getting very interesting. And as Panther said so eloquently I love it! This new character certainly is interesting and unique -- her background is very intriguing, can't wait to find out more about her.

Anyway, don't take so long this time to grace us with a new chapter... I don't want to have to search for this thread again!

[Calico]

Thanks guys

One more semi-boring part, and then I promise it will get more exciting.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

Penelope rolled over in bed and groggily rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Behind the chintz curtains twilight was falling over Gotham. Licking her lips, she sat up. Phoenix waited at the opposite corner of the king sized bed watching her warily.

“What are you looking at cat?” she grunted, and then sighed and hung her head. “I had that dream again.” The cat offered no response. “I hate it. It makes me feel…” she tilted her head as if trying to find the right word. “Sad, I guess.” Her voice was melancholy. “Sometimes I don’t remember anything about them. Other times, I just…I just…Oh hell forget it. They’re all dead, what does it matter?”

“Mrowr?” Phoenix inquired softly and picked his way over to her, sniffing at her hand. Satisfied he nudged at it with the top of his head.

Hesitantly she lifted her hand and gently laid her fingertips between his pointed ears. Eagerly the cat pushed up against them. With slow, easy strokes she caressed his fur and he responded with a comforting purr. “You’re my only friend.”

“Maow?”

“I’ll tell you a little secret: People don’t like me.” The cat’s green eyes scrutinized her. “Really, it’s true.” He flopped down onto his side and offered his soft underbelly for rubbing. “Fourteen years in a Gotham orphanage isn’t exactly conducive to developing satisfactory social behavior. If that lawyer hadn’t shown up to tell me about the money, I don’t know what would have happened to me.”

Phoenix leaped up, already tiring of the attention. “Me-ow!” he called emphatically and dashed to the doorway, turning back to make sure she got the message.

“Oh I get it,” she said sourly. “You were just buttering me up to feed you. Some friend,” she huffed. But she’d been in bed too long and her own stomach growled to get her attention. She stood up and grabbed her robe from the hook on the back of the bedroom door, tying the sash as she marched down the hall, Phoenix weaving between her feet.

In the large kitchen she opened a cabinet and contemplated the contents. All three shelves were stacked to the top with every type of canned cat food imaginable. Seafood, beef, chicken, tuna: all the proper feline food groups were represented. She reached up and grabbed a can with a blue label that pictured a happily grinning cat on the front. “How come you never smile like that, huh? Are you defective?” she asked absently as she used the can opener installed under the cabinet. Phoenix didn’t answer as he rubbed each of her legs in turn, perhaps hoping the incentive would get her to work faster.

Penelope scooped the gelatin-like contents of the can onto a saucer and set it down on the floor. Phoenix started licking at it greedily. She sighed. She felt tired, her energy drained from the night before.

From another cabinet she pulled down a bowl and then opened the freezer door, the corners of her lips turning up in anticipation. Like the cabinet that held Phoenix’s cat food, the freezer was stocked with only one item: dozens and dozens of pints of ice cream, each brightly-colored container showing the picture of the company’s two founders and namesakes, and a cow that represented where it was located. Strange names adorned each carton. Cherry Garcia, Chunky Monkey, Chubby Hubby, Wavy Gravy, Phish Food, and even the newest flavor suggested from the music business, One Sweet Whirled. Her hand reached in and she pulled out her all-time favorite, New York Super Fudge Chunk. Using a large spoon, she scooped half of the delectable desert into her bowl. Looking at it, she felt it really wasn’t enough to store and certainly too much to throw away, so she scooped the remainder into the bowl as well. She tossed the carton into the trash and licked the spoon slowly with a small moan of delight. Vermont’s Finest indeed.

Leaving the cat to his feast, she pushed through the swinging door, propping it open so Phoenix could come back through when finished. She strolled into the luxurious living room of her luxurious penthouse. She was in fact the owner of the entire building, though the other tenants would never know that. She couldn’t have people driving her crazy night and day about a broken this or a leaky that. That’s why God invented building superintendents, she thought to herself with a smile. The money she inherited on her eighteenth birthday – the settlement on her father’s death plus almost two decades of compounded interest – had made her a very wealthy woman.

She owned the building, and many others, through the blind of several dummy corporations, leaving her in blissful anonymity. Since the fateful day her mother destroyed their family, she had been in the eye of the public. When she turned eighteen and became a legal adult she set out on her own, but was hounded day and night by the press, treating her like a circus freak. She’d even received calls from Hollywood requesting the right to film her story, which she flat out refused. That, however, did not stop the controversy-loving industry, and no less than three motion pictures were produced. Watching her lawyers take the studios apart bit by bit and adding them to her growing portfolio was almost worth the trouble.

Now she lived virtually invisible, but certainly not alone. After all she had The Other to keep her company.

In a sunken area in the middle of the living room were a conversational set of a couch and three easy chairs surrounding a glass and bronze coffee table. She headed towards it, passing by the sliding glass door that led to the apartment’s terrace. She paused in mid step as and odd feeling overcame her, like a cold shadow over her soul. Then she continued on as if nothing were wrong, lifting her left hand casually and making a small pushing gesture. As she stepped down into the sitting area the glass door opened of its own volition.

“You might as well come in,” she said as she sank down into the plush sofa. “It wouldn’t be good for my reputation to have a man hovering about on my balcony.”

As if the night itself were responding to her invitation, a dark foot crossed the entryway and stepped onto the cream-colored carpeting. Following it was the other foot, and just as soon as the stranger was inside, the door slid shut, hard enough to shake it in its tracks, almost catching the edge of figure’s black cape in its wake. The dark figure didn’t so much as flinch.

Looking up at the costumed hero, Penelope muttered, “So much for anonymity,” as she put the spoon in her mouth and savoring the chocolaty goodness.

[Bleu Unicorn]

Originally posted by Calico
One more semi-boring part, and then I promise it will get more exciting.

I haven't been bored. I'm enjoying it quite a lot, in fact.

She reached up and grabbed a can with a blue label that pictured a happily grinning cat on the front. “How come you never smile like that, huh? Are you defective?”

LOL! That has to be the funniest thing I've read in a good long while! Hehe, nice touch, Calico!

Strange names adorned each carton. Cherry Garcia, Chunky Monkey, Chubby Hubby, Wavy Gravy, Phish Food, and even the newest flavor suggested from the music business, One Sweet Whirled. Her hand reached in and she pulled out her all-time favorite, New York Super Fudge Chunk.

Pfft, Half Baked's way better. Mmmm, chocolate fudge brownie and chocolate chip cookie dough mixed together. Yum, yum, yum!

On the serious side, I love it. Especially the ending, your description of Batman's entrance into the apartment is very well done. Very dramatic and, um, Bat-ish. I'm out of trademark witty, Bleu-y things to say. So, great job! I want more! Don't keep me in suspense... or, uh, everyone else either!

[Panther]

A millionaire-pyscyic-pschotic-bag lady! One word for ya: Wow!

Oh, and by the way, Death by Chocolate is the best ice cream. Mmmmmhhhmmmm.... chocolate overload. >drools like Homer Simpson<

NEway, great writing. I love Phoenix. And very interested in hearing what ole Batsy has to say.

later,

[Sable Phoenix]

Hey now, when are we going to see another installment of this? I'm intrigued by it, and there haven't been any updates for quite a while.

[Calico]

Howdy! I know this one has been slow going, and I apologize. You see I've just been putting all my creative energy into a sequel to a certain other story. But I'll try to be more diligent! Glad y'all are enjoying it!

<<<<<<>>>>>>

Batman stood silent, not acknowledging her comment. With a bored expression she asked, “So what are you doing here? If you’re looking for a thank you, it’s not coming.”

He took two steps to the lip of the sunken living area, toes of his boots coming flush to the carpet’s edge. “I saw what you did last night,” he replied in a low voice.

“What, jaywalking? Business a little slow?” She pretended to stifle a yawn.

“I was in the park. I saw what you did to that man. His name is Clem and he’s now in a coma. The doctors have no idea when or if he’ll ever wake up.”

“Oh, cry me a river. He tried to kill me.”

“What did you do to him?” he asked forcefully.

She offered him a half smile and lifted one shoulder. “Just gave him a little suggestion. Don’t worry, if he’s still got some good left inside him, he’ll wake up when he’s ready.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“What do you care? If he doesn’t then he’s scum and the world’s better off without him. Isn’t that what you do? Take care of the scum?”

“Not like that.” There was silence as she calmly finished her ice cream, not giving him so much as an iota of attention. She showed no fear, just like during the hold-up at the shoe store. He guessed she didn’t have a lot to fear. “What you did, where does that power come from?” he asked with the hint of anger in his voice. He was not used to being overlooked. Criminals cowered in his path, other heroes, those gifted with powers beyond imagination, deferred to him with the utmost respect or simply gave him a wide birth, even his colleagues in Gotham while perhaps opining differently, towed the line if they wished to continue operating on his turf.

“What?” she asked testily.

“Are you a metahuman?”

Penelope Roberts rolled her eyes. Like a sulky teenager she said, “Why are you here?”

“I need to know what to expect of you.”

She frowned and rose slowly, licking the remains of ice cream from her spoon. “You can expect me to throw you out in about 30 seconds,” she replied flatly.

“Does any of this have to do with what your mother did?”

Her entire body tensed and her lips pulled down into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she whispered.

“Don’t you think it’s a little odd that you were the only surviving child? Extensive research done into unexplainable psychic ability has shown a traumatic event or injury is usually the catalyst.”

“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” Her entire body trembled. Pictures on the walls and porcelain figurines in a corner curio-hutch danced and rattled in place.

Batman stood firm, not acknowledging the growing vibrations or the increased electrical charge in the air that made the hairs on his arms stand on end. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” he asked.

She tensed even more. An original Manet watercolor painting of a sunset slid down the wall and came to rest face down on the floor. Then just as quickly as it had begun, everything settled back and became quite again. Her head hung down. “She did what she did because of me, because she found me playing with some blocks, and not in the manufacturer’s suggested way either. She didn’t kill me because I stopped her.” A small, distant smile appeared on her face. “I just sat there while she…cleaned house, not moving, not helping. Death and murder are not concepts you’re born with. By the time she came for me I think I did what I did more out of reflex than any premeditation.” She looked up at him for the first time since beginning her story. “I made her stab herself in the leg. Then I calmly went to the neighbors and told them Mommy had a little accident.” She chuckled softly. “A little accident. Now that’s funny!”

Batman narrowed his eyes as his heart sank. Reading about the gruesome crime was nothing compared to her firsthand account of it in a cold recitation, like she was giving a book report. And she seemed more than a little out of touch with reality. “Are you aware you mother has recently passed away?” he asked gently.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Of course we were aware of that! The newspapers didn’t hesitate to print it on the front page of every paper, digging up the past because murder is always fresh!” she exclaimed, and Batman had an uneasy feeling while watching her.

“Penelope,” he started. “Did you just say ‘we’?”

“Why do you ask?” She stepped forward brandishing the spoon like a weapon. “What are you saying? Do you think I’m crazy, crazy like her?”

“I never said that,” he replied rationally.

“Oh, you didn’t have to, you’re thinking it.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“But I can,” she said in a light, sing-song voice. Her lips parted and her head lolled to the side. Batman was beginning to become concerned on her behalf when he felt it, like hundreds of maggots swimming though his brain.

With a groan he gripped his head in his hands and began an old mental exercise taught to him by a Hindu master. Mental barriers normally used to block out the pain centers of his mind to keep him going when a normal man would be overcome, he now used to isolate his memories, to keep them safe from her powerful intrusion.

The walls were battered mercilessly, and he knew he couldn’t keep it up for long, yet he didn’t have to. The feeling receded. He looked at her and saw her sigh as she raised her head.

“Keeping secrets are we? Very impressive, but you didn’t hide everything.”

“You need help.”

“We don’t need your help, or anyone else’s!” she shrieked. The air rushed past him like he was inside a vacuum, and he felt himself lifted off his feet, flying back as if he’d been shot from a cannon, through the kitchen door, stopping with a loud and painful crash against the steel industrial-sized refrigerator. Inside bottles rattled together musically. However instead of obeying the law of gravity and falling to the floor, he stuck to the cold surface, feet six inches from the rose and lavender tiles, held firmly in place by an invisible hand clenching his throat. His air was blocked and he struggled against nothing.

She walked towards him slowly, arms swaying gently at her side. “I’m not crazy,” she said as she walked up to him. “But I am pissed. You had no right to come here.” Batman dropped his hand to a pouch in the utility belt, pulling out a small capsule. “I think you’ve worn out your welcome.” He threw the capsule to the floor, gas instantly seeping out with a sharp hiss. When the bluish haze reached Penelope’s nose she jumped back with a cry of distress, coughing and gasping, releasing the hold on Batman’s throat. He hit the floor with a groan.

Batman pulled air into his lungs and Penelope hunched over on her hands and knees sneezing and spitting the noxious aftertaste of the gas from her mouth. He walked over and laid a hand on her shoulder. She looked up with a perplexed expression. “What happened? How did you get in here?” she asked in a small voice.

Batman frowned. “You don’t remember anything?”

“Well, I , uh…” She closed her eyes.

“You kept saying ‘we’. Do you know why?”

She turned over to sit against the cabinet. “Yeah, that would be the Other.”

“Other what?”

“The other me, silly,” she replied with a playful smile, and then rubbed her forehead. “My twin sister.”

“There is no record of a twin being born,” he growled, angry that she would be lying to him.

“Of course she was never born. You’d be surprised how many of us start with twins, but somehow the stronger sibling absorbs them. I guess that was me, but there was a part of her that was stronger, a part that managed to live on.”

“In you?”

She shrugged. “In me, around me, sometimes maybe Bermuda, who knows? But when she feels like it, she makes her presence known.”

“Then all the power is hers?”

“Not all of it, we’re twins remember. But alone I am much less…”

“Dangerous? Can you control her Penelope?”

“What do you mean?”

“She almost killed me. And after what she did in the park…”

“I wouldn’t let her kill him,” she insisted.

“Then you can control her?”

“Sometimes,” she muttered.

“You’d better make it always,” he said standing up. “Because if you don’t I’ll have to take her down, take both of you down.”

“You think you can take us?” she asked with a quiet menace in her voice.

“Yes.” He left her on the floor, exiting the same way he came in.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

[Bleu Unicorn]

[Janice voice]Oh, my gawd![/Janice voice] I'm in shock, I never thought we'd see more to this. But I'm dying for the sequel to "It's Been Awhile" -- so neglect at will as far as I'm concerned. Just don't make me have to hunt for this again, 'kay?

Anyway, eerie much? Oiya. And I thought watching "Heart of Steel" was going to be my most disturbing moment for the day. (That episode freaks me out, I'm serious.)

Definitely an interesting turn. Maybe it's cause I haven't read this in so long, my mind's foggy, but I so wasn't expecting that little twist. (This coming from the person who posts Harley posts and has no memory of doing so. Freaky much, eh?)

Batman being sympathetic. Who'da thunk it'd ever happen? Big ole softie underneath all that gruffiness. <cough> Ok, mayhaps not, but it was an interesting side to him.

My brain's fried from summarizing the Batman RPG, so that's all the praise you get. I leave you with my trademark: more, more, more, more!

[Sable Phoenix]

Very cool. I was wondering when this would be updated again. I especially liked this part:


“You think you can take us?” she asked with a quiet menace in her voice.

“Yes.” He left her on the floor, exiting the same way he came in.


You nailed Batman's character perfectly with just that one word.

[The_NewCatwoman]

I'm truly incredibly sorry that I didn't respond to this masterpiece earlier. I've not the time to read everybody's like I should and often end up missing people.

I apologize humbly.

This so far was WONDERFUL. The only thing was, I though Penelope was an older woman, try sixties, until I found out she was much younger. Oops!

Keep up the fantastic work Calico.

tNC

[M'ral]

Wow. This is absolutely incredible! I haven't visited the Fanfic boards in a loooong time, but with stories like this floating around, I may have to stick around for a while!

One more thing...More please!

[The_NewCatwoman]

Post dammit!!

Sorry for sounding impatient and rude but his story is excellent!