BAE Chapter 14

Gotham has plenty of nice hotels. This gala is big enough to slow down traffic on the street, but not quite ritzy enough for the full red carpet treatment.

“Um, thanks for the ride,” Dad says nervously as he climbs out of the car. “Do I tip him?” he mutters under his breath to Barbara.

“The pleasure was mine, Commissioner,” Alfred says, but then he does something unexpected and extends his hand.

Dad looks at it with a frown, then shakes. The handshake goes on a little longer than is normal.

“Thank you for your service,” Alfred says, a hint of emotion in his voice.

“Sure, pal,” Dad says uncomfortably. “Gee. I wish everyone liked cops as much as that guy,” he adds to Barbara as they make their way inside.

Barbara can’t reply because her throat has closed up. Alfred doesn’t care about cops, he cares about Jim Gordon because he’s probably the closest thing that Bruce has to a friend. Dad doesn’t realize it, but his steady presence in Gotham has helped Bruce keep what little of his sanity he has. It’s not lost on Alfred.

This latest absence really is different if it’s making Alfred sentimental. Maybe Bruce really is dead, but Barbara isn’t counting on it. She doesn’t want him dead, of course. But if he was just gone… that would be simple. Nothing’s ever simple.

The party’s in a big ballroom at the top of the hotel. The walls are covered in beautiful paintings of Gotham’s golden age, and a vast red and gold skylight glitters over the festive lights. Golden streamers are everywhere; the logo for the environmental charity is gold so it’s a theme.

This gala is not in Barbara’s honor, but Wayne Enterprises is the core of Gotham’s economy, and news travels quickly. Anyone can read between the lines that she’s being groomed for a VP spot and on the fast track to the board. Nepotism. The strong bonds between the company and the police. Or maybe she’s just sleeping with the right guy. Maybe Bruce Wayne. Those are the possible explanations well-informed people who care about the stock market will be considering in the coming days and weeks.

The real reason would disappoint them. In any case, Barbara knows to be ready for some backlash, but she’s not the one to catch fire first: it’s Dad.

“Jim,” a voice says behind them before they can even reach the bar.

They turn to come face to face with Gotham’s new District Attorney: Viti Saxena. She’s even shorter than Barbara and a little curvier. She has a round, but pleasing face, but there’s a certain seriousness in her bearing that makes her slightly less pretty than she might be if she relaxed. She wears a lovely green Sari and looks amazing.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” she says to Dad.

“Change of plans,” Dad replies with a shrug. “Barbara needed a date,” he says, putting his arm around Barbara, who smiles.

“And that’s more important than finding the Spider?” Viti’s voice is pleasant but the energy is ice cold.

“We’re talking about a burglar, Miss Saxena. Not a serial killer.”

“We’re talking about the most serious and blatant money laundering and insurance fraud racket this city has ever seen,” Viti says firmly. “All this wealth just disappearing into thin air? Where’s it going? Whose pockets? Yours?”

“Hey!” Barbara bristles. “You can’t talk to my dad like that. He was putting his neck on the line for this city when you were going to your senior prom.”

“Has he? Or has it been the Batman? The Batman’s gone a couple of months and there are a dozen new gangs and ten million and counting up in smoke among Gotham’s elite. The second the Batman turns his back, nobody even has to hide anymore,” Viti says. She walks away before anyone can reply.

Barbara fumes. Dad sighs.

“She’s right, you know.” He hands Barbara a glass of champagne. “He changed things. And we relied on him too much. They aren’t afraid of us. Only of him. If he’s really gone, God help us.”

It’s a dumb thing to say, but Barbara says it anyway: “It’s not that bad. I heard there’s another one here.”

“Maybe,” Dad replies with a grimace. “I’m not sure about that one. She got me out of a jam a few years ago. Seems like a sweet kid. Reminds me of you. I think she’s out of her depth. I hope she hangs it up; she doesn’t seem like she’s cut out for this. Now that kid in Bludhaven, the Nightwing? He worked with the Batman for years. Now that kid had some skills, let me tell you.”

Barbara’s mouth drops open and she nearly drops her drink. Her temper snaps and then snaps again. Her ears burn so much that, amazingly, smoke doesn’t come out of them.