SEL Chapter 15

“Is it too late for Bruce’s money to get us another ticket to see the show tonight?” Stephanie asks.

“I should think not.”

“I want Helena Bertinelli there as my plus one.”

Alfred looks thoughtful, then nods. “Master Bruce often took issue with Ms. Bertinelli’s methods.”

“Master Bruce dressed up like a bat and beat the shit out of people because it was easier than going to therapy. I’m sorry if he has a problem with her harpoon gun or whatever,” Stephanie replies, rolling her eyes.

“Quite. It’s a repeating crossbow, I believe.”

“That’s stupid. Why not use a gun? Oh. Of course. Bruce. He’s like the least patriotic guy ever if you think about it. Doesn’t care about your right to due process or your right to bear arms.”

“A keen insight, Ms. Stephanie.”

SEL

Barbara’s alone in her campaign office in a video call with Lucius.

“These numbers aren’t good,” he reports, and Barbara can see that for herself.

Viti has just launched her campaign, but already she’s doing incredibly well with fundraising. Almost suspiciously well.

“This is past even our worst-case projection,” Barbara notes.

“We may have underestimated how much the average Gothamite disapproves of a mayoral candidate who’s openly cozy with Poison Ivy,” Lucius replies sensibly.

Yikes. Barbara adjusts her glasses and folds her arms, leaning back to think.

This is really bad.

“Keep it together, Barbara. You have a lot of hands to shake tonight,” Lucius warns.

“I know.”

SEL

From a distance, Gotham is pretty at night.

It can still sort of be that way in the right neighborhoods. There’s a lot of lovely old gothic architecture, and where the money has truly disconnected from reality, the city’s poverty and struggles can be effectively hidden. Mostly.

Even in the back of a Rolls, Stephanie is still at ground level. The real Gotham is right there, even when there are rich people around.

Alfred opens the door, and Helena Bertinelli leans down to look into the car. Her face becomes unfriendly at the sight of Stephanie.

Helena is all dolled up for a nice night out. Her purple dress has such a high thigh slit that it raises questions. Her spikes are long enough that Stephanie feels like she’d get a TBI just from trying them on. Her long, black hair is freshly curled, and her lipstick is so dark that it looks almost black.

“Who the hell are you?” she asks sourly.

“Expecting someone else?” Stephanie tries to act cool; it bugs her that they’re both wearing purple. And Helena is outdressing and out-glamoring her effortlessly. Not that glamor has ever been Stephanie’s thing, but she used to think that she cleaned up well. Her ego will not recover from this anytime soon.

“Expecting someone that I recognized.”

“We’ve met,” Stephanie squawks, indignant. “We worked together!” In a collapsing shopping mall, years ago, but still.

Helena peers at her. “You’re Tim’s girlfriend. The girl from the mall. During the quake.”

“I am a person. I am an individual. I am vengeance. I’m the night,” Stephanie says, stamping one foot. “Get in the car.”

Helena is still bent over beside Alfred.

She looks at him.

“It’s not a ****, Ms. Bertinelli,” he assures her.

“This better be good,” Helena grumbles, elegantly sliding in beside Stephanie. She’s taller, has better proportions, and even though her dress probably isn’t as expensive, it looks better. Hoping that her deodorant holds out, Stephanie smiles.

“Thanks for coming. Seriously. Who did you think it was? You know Bruce isn’t around.”

“I figured it was Dick,” Helena says with a shrug. “Stephanie, right? Or should I just call you the moron that let Cluemaster go?”

“Either’s fine. He’s my dad. We’re not close.” Stephanie puts her hand out. Alfred starts driving.

With the look of someone questioning reality, Helena shakes.

“Why would Dick be asking you out? Oh.” Stephanie blinks. “Oh. I guess that’s a silly question. When did that happen?”

“Before the quake,” Helena replies with a yawn.

“When you were wearing Cass’s outfit?”

“It’s my outfit!” Helena explodes without warning, sticking her finger in Stephanie’s face. “It’s mine. I made it. By hand! I don’t have an Alfred. Bruce just took it and gave it to her.”

“Oh. Gosh.”

“Where is she, by the way?”

“I don’t know. She was doing the Batgirl thing by herself for a while. You know. After Babs got mad and walked after Jason died. But before he got better. She took off. I didn’t even get to say goodbye, and Bruce never told me what it was about. I think there were ninjas involved.”

“That’ll happen,” Helena says with another yawn. “Who has my suit now?”

“It’s in the cave.”

Helena says nothing.

Stephanie sighs. This is tough. Helena is, uh, a little prickly. She knew that, though.

“Has Barbara lost her mind?” Helena asks.

“What?”

“Hooking up with Poison Ivy? I’m not exactly risk-averse, but Jesus. And I thought she was straight. Especially with how weird she gets about Dick. No pun intended.”

“You know she got hit with Seed, right?”

“So? I thought she got rid of it. She has a whole company trying to get rid of it.”

“Yeah, but… like, what maybe you don’t know is that Seed makes you…” Stephanie searches for the right word. She gestures helplessly. “Frisky. It makes you frisky.”

“She was plenty frisky to begin with,” Helena mutters. Sledgehammer passive aggression. “You mean it made her gay?”

“Uh, no. No. It doesn’t make you—it just, uh… it’s complicated.”

“Hmm.” Helena looks Stephanie up and down, then grimaces. “Whatever.”

They’re approaching the Iceberg Lounge. Alfred’s in the line of other luxury cars dropping people off on the carpet.

Helena gets serious.

“OK, kid. You are not Dick Grayson. Give me one reason not to go home.”

Stephanie swallows nervously. How should she pitch this to Helena?

Beg her for help?

Or offer her the suit that she made?

[ Open ]