Batman 2 - Batman Returns (19 page)

T
his, at least, would come out right.

These last few days had not been among the best for Max Shreck. First, there was that little altercation with Selina. Unfortunate how Max’s temper could sometimes get the better of him. It was very fortunate she survived her tumble from the tower, he supposed, although the fall did seem to have done something to her brain. Perhaps it would be better, after the holiday season was past, to have her removed. Permanently. Except this time Max would have the job done by outside professionals. He was much too big a man to get personally involved in that sort of thing anymore.

And what about The Penguin? Max had thought he had seen opportunity knocking with the little birdman, but unfortunately, his chosen candidate appeared to have even more screws loose than the average politician. At least now that The Penguin had been disgraced and was the subject of a massive police manhunt, he and his threats were out of Max’s life for good.

So now it was time for the big party, time for holiday cheer, time to forget the old and embrace the new. And it was a time for renewal, and a new year to finally get his special power plant under construction.

Yes, there had been some pitfalls along the way, but Max had successfully avoided them all. And he wanted to show he was still here, and still kicking. What better way to do that than hold his annual Max-squerade in the recently bombed department store, patched up and lit like a nightclub for this occasion?

Sometimes, Max was so clever he surprised even himself.

He had dressed himself in a special turban headdress for tonight’s party. Just like a swami who knows all. And the guests started to arrive in droves. He saw someone dressed as the leaning tower of Pisa, another dressed as the sinking of the Titanic.

But, with all the varied costumes, it was telling that there wasn’t a single penguin. How fickle the public was in Gotham City!

Max climbed up on the platform. It was time for the party to begin.

“Attention, shoppers!” he called into the microphone.

A number of the guests laughed appreciatively. They’d better, with what this was costing Max. But, hey, the goodwill this generated, especially among certain Gotham City departments and commissions! A party was always worthwhile when it got officials to look the other way.

“Like this splendid department store,” Max continued, “Gotham can quickly bounce back from the tumult, the sturm and drang of the past days.” He lifted both his hands above his head and waved to the crowd. “So deck the halls and shake your booties!”

The band behind him launched into a tune with a heavy beat, and a number of the guests obligingly crowded the makeshift dance floor.

Max spotted the mayor, wearing a Julius Caesar toga, complete with rubber knife handles and a lot of fake blood. Max lifted his drink in a toast to the mayor with his best “forgive me” smile. The Mayor nodded noncommittally. Still, the very fact that His Honor had attended meant he realized how much he needed Max Shreck’s money, power, and influence.

Max turned to stare at the another newcomer who stood out in the crowd.

It was Bruce Wayne. Obviously. Because Bruce Wayne had come dressed as himself.

Well, no matter what Wayne decided to do, Max decided he should be the gracious host. Especially considering Wayne’s money, power, and influence.

“Ingenious costume,” Max remarked as he shook Wayne’s hand. “Let me guess—trust fund goody-goody?”

But Wayne wasn’t in the mood for banter. “Of course you’re feeling fine,” he replied with a frown. “You almost made a monster the mayor of Gotham City.”

What was this Bruce Wayne talking about? Didn’t he realize all that Penguin business was part of the past?

Max took a deep breath. “I am the light of this city. And I am its mean, twisted soul. Does it really matter who’s the mayor?”

Wayne regarded him coolly. “You know what? It does to me.”

“Yawn,” Max replied. It was time to find more interesting conversation.

There was something about Max Shreck’s money-can-fix-anything attitude that brought out Bruce’s most self-righteous instincts. He found the man extremely unpleasant. For a moment Bruce Wayne thought it was a mistake to come here.

Then he saw Selina.

She wasn’t dressed in costume either, unless her costume was Selina Kyle. Heck, with a face and figure like that, why should she want to hide it?

Bruce quickly crossed the dance floor in her direction. She was talking to Chip Shreck, who was dressed like some soldier from ancient Rome. Or, rather, Chip was talking to her.

“Selina,” Chip said in what almost sounded like awe. “Ms. Kyle. May I have this—”

Bruce stepped in, and Selina looked at him as if Chip Shreck didn’t even exist.

He smiled at her. She smiled back. The band started to play something slow. Somehow, they were in each other’s arms and dancing.

“Sorry about yesterday,” he said quickly. “Some big deal came together—” No, that wasn’t what he’d told Alfred to say. “—uh, no, fell through, and—” Or was that what he told the butler to say? Bruce couldn’t remember.

Selina replied before he could get into further trouble. “It’s okay.” She shrugged. “I had to go home. Feed my cat.”

Bruce couldn’t believe it. He looked into her eyes. “No hard feelings?”

She pressed close to him. She looked up and smiled.

“Actually—semihard, I’d say.”

Oh. Bruce took a step away, suddenly embarrassed. If only he didn’t find Selina Kyle so attractive.

But he did.

Selina did an amazingly slow pirouette before him, graceful and sexy at the same time.

“There’s a big, comfy, California king over in Bedding,” she suggested. “What say we—”

“You mean,” Bruce asked with a certain irony, “take off our costumes?”

Selina’s answering laugh sounded more sad than happy. “I guess I’m sick of wearing masks.”

“Same here,” he agreed. “So why did you come tonight?”

She shook her head. “You first.”

He drew her close again. “To see you.”

She didn’t reply for a long moment. When she did, he heard that same sadness in her voice.

“That’s lovely, and I really wish I could say the same, but—I came for Max.”

Bruce almost stopped dancing. Max Shreck? Was there something going on in front of him that he hadn’t even seen? An office flirtation, or maybe even romance?

“You don’t mean—you and Max?” he asked tentatively.

This time Selina’s laugh let him know he couldn’t be further from the truth. She shook her head.

“This
and Max,” she explained.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a derringer.

B
ruce pushed the derringer back in her bag and continued to dance. Selina was surprised she had even shown it to him. She had meant to keep her gun a secret from everyone. But then she had told him about it, straight out. There was something about Mr. Bruce Wayne, something mysterious, but something that made her want to trust him at the same time.

She looked at the surprise on his face, and decided to talk before he did.

“Now,” she began, “don’t give me a killing-Max-won’t-solve-anything speech, because it will. Aren’t you tired of this sanctimonious robber baron always coming out on top? When he should be six feet under?”

Bruce shook his head ruefully. “Hey, look, I’m sure you have plenty of reasons to hate your boss, but—” He threw his hands in the air, as if he didn’t know the answer either. “Jesus, Selina, you’re not the judge or the jury. I mean, just who do you think you are?”

She looked back at him thoughtfully, and a little sadly. Before the Ice Princess had died, she could have told him. She had so much anger against so many things; and that anger had come out as Catwoman. But now?

“I don’t know anymore, Bruce,” she said, and she could hear her own despair.

Still they danced, swirling around the floor to that slow, sad song. She looked overhead and saw mistletoe. She leaned forward and gave Bruce a gentle kiss that somehow felt sad as well.

“A kiss under the mistletoe,” she said, repeating another’s words. “Mistletoe can be deadly, if you eat it—”

Bruce looked at her, and told her other words she knew.

“But a kiss can be even deadlier, if you mean—it.”

He stumbled over the last word, as if he had guessed the same thing she had.

They both spoke at once.

“You’re her?” he said at the same time as she asked “You’re him?”

They were. They both knew it in the instant they spoke.

He was Batman?

And she was Catwoman. But who would believe it?

Besides the two of them.

Bruce very gently undid the cuff of her blouse, and pulled back her sleeve. His hand on her skin was almost a caress as he felt her upper arm.

“The burn I gave you,” he said. She could hear regret in his voice.

But she needed proof as well, she realized, as she undid the bottom button of his shirt and felt along his stomach muscles. There was the row of scabs.

“The puncture wounds I gave you,” she replied. She sighed. This was all too much for her. “Oh, God,” she whispered, afraid to say what came next. “Does this mean we have to start fighting now?”

Bruce’s only answer was to pull her closer. She hugged him tight. She was scared. She imagined they both were.

“What do we do?” she asked after a moment.

“I don’t know,” Bruce replied. “Until we figure it out, let’s—let’s keep dancing.”

For the moment, Selina realized, that was fine with her.

Now this was really more like it!

The Penguin cackled as the dust and dancers settled around them. Nothing like a nice little explosion to shake them up. Well, tonight, The Penguin would make them pay!

Bits of the floor sailed back to earth.

People screamed.

Pieces of ceiling rained down around them.

People fainted.

Parts of other things fell down, too. Some of these had once been costumes; or what had been inside the costumes.

People ran.

The Penguin made a small bow from within his duckmobile. “You didn’t invite me, so I crashed.”

The four penguins he’d brought along squawked approval.

His Honor the Mayor stepped forward. The Penguin had to admit, he was a snappy dresser. Of course, The Penguin always was a sucker for a toga.

“What do you want, Penguin?” His Honor demanded.

The Penguin pushed him out of the way. He had no more time for mayors. He had much more important things to announce. He looked out at the assembled party-goers to make certain he had their total attention.

“Right now, my troops are fanning out across town, for your children!” He paused to allow the audience to gasp. “Yes, for your firstborn sons. The ones you left defenseless, at home, so you could dress up like jerks, get juiced, and dance, badly!”

He turned to a certain older firstborn kid.

“I’ve personally come for Gotham’s favorite son—Mr. Chip Shreck!”

Even more people gasped. A couple even screamed.

Ah, violence, threats, murder. Why did The Penguin ever leave those things he was so good at?

Well, all that was sewage under the bridge. Because with dear Chip, and hundreds of other Chips from all over town, The Penguin was getting back into murder in a big way.

Hey, this was even
better
than being mayor!

This was terrible!

The two of them had gone down together when the floor exploded. Bruce had been underneath, to cushion the worst of her fall. By the time they had both regained their feet, The Penguin had managed to take Chip Shreck captive.

Selina turned away from The Penguin and his goon.

“Bruce,” she said. “We have to do something!”

But Bruce was gone.

M
ax stared in horror as his son was taken hostage.

“You’re coming with me, you Great White Dope,” The Penguin declared with perverse glee. “To die, way down in the sewer.”

Max almost stopped breathing. For the first time that he could remember, he was truly frightened.

“Not Chip!” he called out, surprised how strong his voice still sounded. “Please! Penguin—if you have one iota of human feeling, you’ll take me instead.”