ORACLE DD Ch 3

“And you’ll take care of that fireworks safety thing for me?” Barbara reminds Steph, who is on her way out the door with an armful of papers. Rain pounds the windows of Barbara’s high-ceilinged office in city hall.

“Yeah. I got it. Eat.”

“OK.”

It’s what passes for lunchtime in Barbara’s workday. Her predecessors always seemed to be golfing or out having meals with donors—but at some point, they must have sat at the desk and actually read some of the endless stuff put in front of them. Or maybe not; enough things have been neglected that Barbara’s beginning to suspect that she might be the first mayor in a while who actually feels some sort of obligation to pay attention.

She can write a computer program to read everything the FBI puts in its systems, but she can’t write one to manage funding for municipal animal shelters. Barbara has to figure that out the old-fashioned way. Gotham is huge, and based purely on numbers, it should be mind-blowingly rich, but the money goes fast. And it never fails: even when she has the money for something she wants, it’s so difficult to fill positions with qualified people.

She unwraps her meatball sub and turns on the TV, calling up the recording of Summer’s show last night. Barbara isn’t watching Summer to torment herself, although it is bittersweet. But Summer is Gotham’s person at night, and Vicki is her person in the morning. It’s not exactly keeping her finger on the pulse of the city, but Barbara keeps an eye on both of them to stay current.

Looking confident and professional in her glasses and blazer, Summer welcomes an elegant, rail-thin woman with a minimalist pixie cut. The guest’s silk blouse is unbuttoned daringly low, but she projects even more confidence than Summer, a seasoned presenter.

“Please welcome Sun Kyesang to Gotham Tonight. Sun is a professor of criminal justice at Gotham State University, and her upcoming book, Shadow of the Batman, discusses Batman’s tenure in Gotham and includes several studies measuring his impact on the city in everything from crime rates—which got worse—to public policy—which ended up taking money away from ordinary folks and sinking it into rebuilding landmarks and militarizing the police. But before all that, Sun, isn’t the timing a little awkward now that Batman’s back?”

Sun laughs and nods as she takes her seat and crosses her legs. “Yes. Everything in the publishing world moves slowly, and yeah, I moved ahead with this book because I thought Batman’s story had a beginning and an end. So rather than examining Batman’s career in full, the book only covers the portion of it up to his disappearance last year. But in seriousness, Summer—I’ve done a lot of work on Batman, and you’d better believe I’ve been keeping track of him since he reappeared. Let’s look at it by the numbers. This stuff isn’t in the book, by the way. It’s all new.”

Summer gestures invitingly, leaning forward with a big smile. “Please.”

“I only have here what I’ve been able to corroborate, which means we have video or someone credible, as in a police officer or an emergency responder, put this in writing in a report, so numbers are likely much higher. But here we go.” Sun licks her lips and pulls out her phone. “Fire rescues, twelve. Intervention on public roadways to prevent loss of life in automobile collisions—four. Administering epinephrine to a civilian going into anaphylactic shock—this was the Thomas Wayne Middle School Choir performance one week ago at Gotham Central Park; a sibling of a performing choir member was allergic to peanuts. Batman saved his life. There was an accident in the Graybridge tunnel; Batman somehow got in there and got a patient out of an ambulance because they weren’t going to reach Gotham General in time. He took them there, supposedly swinging on his ropes. What are we not hearing, Summer?”

“Uh—well, it’s a controversial topic, but I would argue that I’m hearing all good stuff,” Summer says with a look at the camera.

“We’re not hearing about him punching anyone. He’s like a very well-dressed fireman at this point,” Sun says with a laugh. “I don’t think I have to dig into the metrics to tell you all that this is a huge departure from the Batman we used to know, and it’s easy enough to explain. It’s not the same man. Or if it is, he has radically altered his tactics.”

“Well, you know who is punching people?”

“Huntress and Spoiler,” Sun guesses right away.

“Yeah. They’re kicking butt and taking names. What do you have on them?”

“Plenty, but I’ll tell you what’s more interesting, Summer—public sentiment. I’ve been running big surveys since the second all these Batwomen started reappearing in the wake of Batman’s little vacation. We had the gray Batgirl and the purple Batgirl. The black and red Batgirl, known also as Batwoman—don’t ask me how that works. Still no sign of the black and yellow one, but right now, we have two women who are doing exactly what Batman is not doing. Your description is apt, Summer. They are kicking butt, and they’re relatively popular with Gothamites, just like Batman generally has been. But there’s been a little shift. You see, people tend to pick a team: team vigilantes or team no vigilantes. And what my surveys show is that there’s a category of white males who have previously consistently identified as pro-vigilante and supported Batman who have changed their position now that the headliners are two women. These same survey respondents support Nightwing, by the way.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Summer asks.

Barbara mutes the TV. She’s already read an advance copy of Sun’s book. It’s insightful, but naturally, she doesn’t have the whole picture. Barbara’s still glad there’s someone aggressively collecting data and studying it.

The door opens, and Aria Falcone strides into the office. The tall, wild-haired Sicilian wears a sober pantsuit and a camel coat hangs from her shoulders. Her bodyguard is an unusually pretty blonde.

“It’s time for our one o’clock,” Aria says regally.

She has crashed unannounced and very much without permission into Barbara’s office as Barbara is eating; there’s marinara sauce on her face. They have never met face to face, and this sort of power play is probably standard practice for Aria, who currently acts as the head of the Falcone crime family.

Barbara gives her nothing more than a scowl as she reaches for a napkin. Aria Falcone knows that they have no meeting, and Barbara’s not about to ask how she got in here, or give her any satisfaction to speak of. She must have spent a fortune to do what would be necessary to fool security and everyone else into thinking that there was an appointment set. And she will have made sure that she was seen entering City Hall, so Barbara will have to deal with that, too. She’s showing off.

“Versace makes a cute watch, but it doesn’t tell time?” Barbara asks as Aria drops into a chair in front of the desk.

The bodyguard quietly shuts the door and stays in the background, looking angelic.

Aria gazes across the desk for several moments, appraising.

“I’m surprised you didn’t show up sooner,” Barbara goes on, wrapping up her sandwich and setting it aside.

Aria examines her nails. “I needed you to have time to get settled. You’re supposed to be an idealist. I figured you’d need a little time to realize that your communist utopia wasn’t going to happen.”

“Are you here to help me with my communist utopia?”

“The main thing is that I need us to be on the same page. I don’t know if you’re really an idealist or if you have everyone fooled, Ms. Gordon. But whatever you are, you have nothing to gain by being on bad terms with me.”

“Bad terms? I’m not the one crashing into your office. But I think the relationship between mayors and gangsters is arguably meant to be adversarial,” Barbara says frankly.

“Big words. Big words,” Aria repeats, glancing at her bodyguard. “You think I’m a gangster? You see gang wars in the streets? There hasn’t been anything like that since Seed broke, and that was—that was a strange time. When’s the last time one of my people dropped a body, Ms. Mayor?”

“Two nights ago. James “Jimmy” Bower. There’s no body, so there’s no ****. But he was in with a lot of money with you and the Maronis, but Maroni doesn’t kill debtors, he brings them into his stable. Falcones kill debtors as an example. He’s a missing person, but people saw him leave Noonan’s, and his remains are under one of your construction sites, because you always have a construction site and plenty of concrete, Aria, on the north side. If I had to guess, Jimmy’s under that new row of townhomes on Starker Street. Why do you ask?”

It is gratifying, and Barbara has missed the satisfaction that goes with the equivalent of shattering a criminal’s jaw. Aria doesn’t react visibly, but the long silence betrays how shocked she is. Unfortunately, this changes nothing, and it probably would’ve been smarter not to say it.

Aria leans forward.

“I’m not going to work for you,” Barbara says, cutting her off.

Aria twitches. “I know that. But I need to be able to trust that you aren’t going to work against me. My family has always been on friendly terms with Gotham’s mayors, and you are not going to be any different. I have to be able to trust that we can help each other when we need to. I think you have the wrong idea, Ms. Gordon. You think I’m going to ask you to rob a bank for me? Let my people off? No. Sometimes I need permits quickly. Sometimes, my people who are locked up need to be moved for their safety. Sometimes I need a little help in the prosecutor’s office. Sometimes I need a little help with the Teamsters. You understand. We aren’t talking about anything illegal. You’re sweethearts with Wayne Enterprises—you don’t work for them. You can be my sweetheart too. If we’re comparing dicks, well—I know mine’s bigger. Although you did look pretty fine on Gotham Tonight in that swimsuit. I know about your little project with school sports, I know you’re promoting Vicki Vale’s ‘Modern Segregation’ segment to get help for the low-income schools. I know about your negotiations with the nursing union, I know about those conversations between you and Wayne board members about taking over private Gotham hospitals, I know about your little electrical car charging stations, I know which council members will never in a million years let you pass anything regulating chemical waste—and that’s not even getting into what I could know if I wanted to. I’m not the only one who needs a friend, Ms. Gordon. You’re mayor, and that counts for something, but by now you should be starting to understand just how little that buys you. I don’t think you should underestimate the power of friendship. I don’t want you working for me. I already have people who do that. I want us to be friends.”

Barbara snorts. “You’re worth at least forty million dollars. You, the individual. Your organization’s worth even more. There’s not much you can’t do with that much money. Why stay in it? Why do you want more?”

The question seems to take Aria aback. “This is my family. My city.”

“Bullshit. It’s not about money. It’s about power. What if I want power too? Why would I help you get it?”

Aria’s eyes light up. “Different kinds of power, Ms. Mayor. Together, we can get you much more power over your… domain. And I get the same with mine. You can think about it. But not for too long. I like you. I really like you.” She gets to her feet and puts one fingertip on the desk. “I hope you’re behind this desk for a long time. It would make me sad if you weren’t. Thirty million dollars buys a lot of concrete.”

The bodyguard opens the door, and Aria leaves like a queen.

Flustered aides and bodyguards enter, and Barbara shoos them away. She doesn’t care about excuses or apologies. Once the door is shut, she sags in her chair, gazing vacantly across the office. It’s not as though she didn’t know that this was coming. And in the great scheme of things, Aria’s proposal is a good one.

Separate, they are both formidable. Together, they would be unstoppable. People joke about Barbara’s communist utopia, but in terms of policy and funding, they could probably get close to Barbara’s actual target of plain old capitalism with healthcare and a few meager protections for society’s most ****. But that would come with a price. Aria can hide the uglier corners of her business, like **** and trafficking, but that stuff is all still there.

Of course, that stuff is going to happen no matter what. Crime is inevitable, and Barbara is fundamentally pragmatic when her pride and feelings don’t get in the way. If there’s going to be crime, there’s a strong argument for organized crime being better than the alternative. And she doesn’t necessarily have to play defense. Aria is no match for Barbara intellectually. She wants to call it friendship, but her intention is to pull the strings—but Aria has strings of her own, and it’s always possible that Barbara can find them.

Barbara can partner with Aria Falcone to gain significant resources and support for her agenda, and if she commits, potentially exert influence over the Falcone family. Wayne Enterprises will approve. Ivy as well. Lucius? She’s not sure. Everyone else will disapprove—if they find out.

Barbara can reject Aria in full, but Aria will not take that lying down; she will come after Barbara with everything she has, and Aria’s advantage is overwhelming. The cost will be high.

Work with Aria?

Or reject her?