"History Repeats!"
Writer: James Steel
Artist: Borize
Editor: Don Walsh
“Just stop here, Alfred. We’ll walk the rest of the way,” Bruce said as he and Dick exited the from the back of the older vehicle.
“Of course, Master Bruce,” Bruce’s butler, driver, and friend, Alfred Pennyworth replied as he turned off the car’s motor. “I shall wait here until your return. Oh, and try not to be too long. You are expected at Mr. Cobblepot’s banquet.”
“Don’t worry, Alfred,” Dick replied with his usual grin. “I’ll make sure Bruce is there in time. Don’t want to upset the ladies, after all.”
“Especially not Miss Kyle,” Alfred replied with a nod and a small smile of his own.
The neighborhood had certainly changed in the last two decades, Dick thought as he followed behind Bruce, the other man carrying a pair of roses in his hands. Where once the buildings were in pristine condition, they now crumbled. Where once this street was a thriving community, now it was home to vagrants and drug dealers. The press had nicknamed it Crime Alley, an all-too-fitting title. The two approached an old, rundown theater. Once it had shown the latest films and now it only showed porn. That's when Dick heard the noise. It took him less then a second to recognize the sound as gunshots, two of them, any hint of a smile dropping from his face as he ran toward the noise. God no, not again, the single thought rushing through his mind. Bruce too was running toward the noise, managing to break away from the other man, who was slowed down by his injury. Indeed, Bruce was already turning down that familiar alleyway.
As he reached the alley’s entrance Dick noticed a man, half hidden by the shadows at the other end, pointing a gun in his direction. He jerked back around the corner as a bullet grazed the wall where he’d just been, before once more turning into the alley. The man was gone, Bruce already at the other end in hot pursuit. Dick’s eyes widened in shock, and sadness at the scene before him. A young woman, still in her mid-teens, knelt over the bodies of two adults, tears streaming from her eyes, falling into the blood on the ground beneath her. It was then that Alfred caught up to him, the two roses Bruce had dropped in his hands. “Oh dear. I'd best start to make apologies to Miss Kyle,” He commented, the sadness thick in his voice.
*****
Where is he? Selina Kyle thought as she made her through the crowd and to the main table, looking over the heads of those present for his familiar face. “Typical,” she muttered under her breath as she took her seat, “What excuse will you come up with this time, Bruce?”
“I would like to thank you all for coming,” Oswald Cobblepot said as he stood in front of the guests gathered at his nightclub, the Iceberg Lounge. He was a short, rotund man, with a hook nose, his rich, articulate voice a stark contrast to his appearance. “It is a great pleasure to see you all here as we celebrate the start of what will hopefully be only the first of many initiatives to restore this once-great city!” The crowd clapped for a moment before Cobblepot continued his speech. “I would also like to thank Councilwoman Selina Kyle, who’s played such a large part in the East End initiative. Let’s all give her a big round of applause.”
The crowd clapped again, turning to look at where Selina stood from her seat, smiling at their applause. Oswald once more continued his speech as the noise died down.
Commissioner Jim Gordon, member of the Gotham City Police Department, stood near the back of the room. Present as a guest, he was dressed in one of his best suits, his graying hair and mustache neat and trim. As he listened to Cobblepot’s speech, he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. Slipping just outside of the room, he answered. The conversation was short, the fact that it was bad news obvious by his expression. “I’ll be right there,” he said, hanging up as he placed the phone back into his jacket pocket. The time for celebration was over; he was back on the clock.
*****
Dick had already called the police, and Alfred was attempting to comfort the young woman as Bruce came back into the alley, holding his arm. “Master Bruce,” Alfred said looking up at the other man.
“It’s nothing, Alfred,” Bruce replied darkly. “Worry about the girl.” He grumbled as he walked towards Dick. “He got away from me.”
The two walked away from Alfred, and the woman as they continued their conversation. “Are you sure you’re okay,” Dick asked, concerned.
“It’s nothing,” Bruce shot back. “He got in a lucky shot, and it just nicked me.”
“You shouldn’t have gone after him. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I wasn’t going to let him get away!” Bruce growled in response. “And maybe if you had gone with me instead of stopping to check on the girl we might have…” He stopped in mid-sentence, cut-off by the look on Dick’s face. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I just…”
“I know,” Dick nodded as the two of them heard sirens in the distance.
*****
Gordon was just finishing up writing down Alfred’s statement when Bruce walked up to him, a bandage around his arm. “What’s going to happen to her?” Bruce asked, nodding towards the young woman.
“I’m not sure yet,” Jim replied. “She doesn’t have any surviving family, and she’s almost a legal adult.” He sighed. “I’ve pulled some strings and she’ll be staying with me and Sarah tonight. I’m sure Barbara won’t mind her room being used. But after that… I’m afraid she might end up getting bounced around in foster homes for the next few years, and then who knows what.”
Bruce frowned. “It’s not fair.”
“It never is,” Jim replied. He shook his head. “I can’t believe it’s been twenty years already. I was just out of the academy when we got the call that night.”
Bruce nodded, deep in thought. “The same night, the same place.” He looked back up at Jim’s face. “I’d like to speak with her for a moment. If I can.”
Jim just nodded as Bruce walked over to where the young woman sat.
“Hey there, I’m…”
“Bruce Wayne,” the redheaded woman replied. “I’ve seen you on TV, Dad works…” She paused, shuddering a bit before continuing, “...worked at one of your factories.”
“I’m sorry,” Bruce told her. “I’ll make sure I do whatever I can to help you.”
“Thanks,” the woman replied. “But don’t be sorry,” She told him, a small fire starting to burn in her eyes. “It’s… not your fault. It’s his! I hope they track that bastard down, and shoot him down in the streets like he did my parents.” She looked down, wiping away another tear. She took a moment to compose herself before looking back up at Bruce. “I’m sorry,” She told him. “My parents wouldn’t want… have wanted… me to talk like that.”
Bruce nodded. “I understand how you feel. I lost my parents the same way. Right here as well.”
“Oh,” the redhead replied, not sure what else to say.
“I guess I’m just saying that if you… wanted to talk about it…” Bruce added, his words wandering, and trailing off.
She nodded. “Thanks. Not now… Maybe… Maybe later. But not now.”
Bruce nodded in agreement. “And don’t worry. Jim Gordon’s a good man, and a great cop. If anyone can find your parent’s killer, it’s him.”
*****
Oswald Cobblepot undid his tie as he entered the sitting room in his modest abode. The banquet had been a complete success. He chuckled to himself, almost a quacking sound as he tossed his top hat onto the coat stand by the room’s main entrance, hanging the black umbrella he always carried with him beside it. Behind him walked in his personal assistant.
“I hear the event was a success,” The woman said, as she flicked through the day's mail.
“Of course, my Dove,” Oswald replied as he plopped down onto his sofa. “I never doubted it would be, not even for a moment.”
The attractive woman nodded, handing him the mail. “Mainly bills, there’s one of those sweepstake things from Ed McMahon in there,” She told him. “Oh, and you got a call earlier from a Mr. Kuttler.”
“Ah. Good, good,” Oswald replied, grabbing his phone as he started to dial, he free hand motioning for the woman to leave him. She nodded, exiting the room, as the call was picked up.
“Oswald. Good talking to you again,” Mr. Kuttler said, as he answered the phone. “Just finished seeing the news about your event.”
“Well I certainly appreciated your help with the initial funding, and dealing with some of the red tape, Noah,” Oswald answered.
“As the saying goes, ‘you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours’. And I certainly expect our ‘partnership’ to be as successful in the future. Provided your rodent problems don’t get too large.”
“That will be dealt with, Noah,” Oswald promised. “You have my word.”
“Of course,” Noah replied. “You’ve yet to disappoint me.”
Oswald laughed. “Indeed. Take care, Noah. I’ll make sure to keep in touch.”
As he hung up the phone a small grin formed on Oswald’s face. His ‘bat problems’ would certainly be dealt with soon enough. The East-End Initiative was merely his first step towards his final goal…
Oswald Cobblepot, the next mayor of Gotham City.*****
“At least Bruce seems to be holding up okay,” Jim commented to Dick, and Alfred.
“Yes indeed,” Alfred replied. “Master Bruce has quite a lot of inner strength. I, on the other hand, have had more then my share of excitement for tonight.”
Dick couldn’t help but chuckled. “Don’t worry, Alfred, we’ll have you home and sipping tea in no time.” He turned towards Jim. “Any clues on the killer?”
“Not yet,” Jim replied. “But it’s only been a few hours. Hopefully someone will have seen something, but here…”
“I know,” Dick said. “Crime Alley. Hopefully Cobblepot’s renewal plans will help. This city needs all the help it can get.” With that they turned to head back towards where Bruce stood with the young woman. “Oh! And tell Barbara I said hi,” He told Jim, as they walked. “And that I’m sorry I haven’t seen her the last few weeks, but with work and everything…”
Jim smiled. “I know, and I will. You take care of yourself, and Bruce.”
“Don’t I always?” Dick commented with a grin.
“Are you ready to go?” Jim asked the redhead. She wiped a few more tears from her eyes, nodding.
“Wait!” Bruce called out as she started to walk away. “What's your name?”
“It’s Kelly,” she said, turning back to face him. “Carrie Kelly.”
