Kevin Curry
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Devil's consultancy 16
🕑 Added 2025-02-18 05:47:23 +0000 UTCSorry for the late post, but I'm still not happy with this chapter. It doesn't really match my vision, but despite how dissatisfied I am, it's coherent, so it'll have to do.
Incidentally, if you're wondering why I haven't posted a commission this month yet, it's because I did the poll chapter early. I'll probably go straight to writing the next chapter of this, but after that I'll write... a fae chapter I think.
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This was bad, this was very bad. “What do we do!?” Richard asked, trying and failing to get into the case where the Robin costume is. “Tanya, can you open it?”
“I don’t think Master Bruce would approve of any such outing.” Alfred pointed out, calmly watching them through the Bat Computer through the limo’s connection. “That pleading look he keeps giving the camera is quite expressive.” The limo naturally had enough monitors that he could watch both the news coverage and the Batcave at the same time.
“How do we get in the cases?” Barbie asked, pacing frantically. “Why did he even ask me to keep Dick from suiting up if he locks the things up?”
Because he wanted her to not suit up. “He probably assumed that Richard had a workaround he was keeping in his back pocket.” Tanya said idly, internally panicking. What does she do? If Batman’s sidekicks show up without him, it would be a giant flashing arrow to anyone trying to investigate Batman’s secret identity.
Unless… “...The cases can’t be unlocked unless the Batman case is unlocked too.” Tanya said, looking at it carefully. “There’s a biometric lock, but I can bypass it. None of the security measures to keep you from things were meant to hold me back.”
“Well that’s not fair.” Richard said, pouting.
“If I had my way, Batman wouldn’t exist.” Tanya deadpanned. “But we can’t rescue him without Batman.”
“Tanya, what part of ‘Bruce is one of the hostages’ escaped you?” Barbie asked, annoyed. She was pacing, trying to think her way through the situation. “Is there another Batcycle here?” She asked, looking around.
“There are four.” Tanya said idly, “But we’ll be taking the Batmobile.”
“I can only drive a motorcycle.” Barbie admitted, “Alfred?”
“No.” Alfred said, “The only reason I haven’t locked down the cave to stop you from leaving is that there’s still a small chance you’ll come up with an idea that can work.”
“Harold!” Richard said, smacking his fist. “Where’s Harold? He can drive, right?”
“Harold was given a three day vacation, a tropical cruise I believe.” Alfred said, eyes still riveted on the news program. That camera really liked Bruce Wayne. “He won’t be back for another three days.”
…Fuck it. “Rhine. Berechnung. Mahou. The armor stands, bereft of knight. The city’s gripped in dreadful fright.” Shadows started to gather, as much power as Gotham had to offer. “Locked away by divine demand, To the pits, a hellish remand.” She was now completely enveloped by dark power, small bursts of hellfire punctuating her magic. “But now it’s time, God defied, return to me what I’ve been denied!”
Tanya burst into flames, the figure in front of the Batsuit’s case growing to match the normal occupant. With a twitch of magical power, the lock disengaged and the suit flowed into the flames, and so did the other two cases, with the Robin suit and the backup Batgirl suit wrapping themselves around the two children.
A deep voice, a commanding one, one used to being obeyed: “Ready for battle.”
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He was Batman now. He must inhabit the role, much like Bruce does, in order to maximize the magical augmentation.
This was both easier and harder than it sounded. One of the things he didn’t much like talking about was what it was like to half a significant fraction of one’s mind and soul literally burned away in the fires of hell. He remembered… a lot. He was reasonably certain that he remembered the timeline of both of his lives as well as anyone his age would; nothing important was left out. Knowledge was pretty intact, too.
However, the things that didn’t stick around… mostly it was the little things. What things felt like, what things taste like. Sensory memories were pretty much completely shot, if he was lucky he could, when tasting something he had before, connect the new sensation to where it used to be in his mind, but even that much was chancier than he was really comfortable with.
So being in his old body once more… It was filled with new sensations that they, intellectually, knew that they had experienced before, but it all felt… weird. Well, not really weird, but definitely new. That was the hard part.
The easy part was that Bruce and him had worn enough of a metaphorical groove into reality with the constant reinforcement of the Batman myth that he could go with the flow of it, paying less attention to things like how he moved or stood and just let his body copy Bruce’s usual actions through the spell. It’s also how he was able to confidently drive the Batmobile, even if he did learn how to normally, he didn’t exactly have enough practice to go as fast as Batman normally would without crashing. The spell closed that gap.
“So… Batman.” Robin tried, shifting nervously from the front seat. “That spell was… kinda big for a disguise, wasn’t it? What’s the deal?”
Batman grunted dismissively. His shadow creeped upward, Rhine’s silvery head emerging from the darkness. “This is not the time to question, do you have a suggestion?” Puppeting a copy of their body was something they had been working on, it wasn’t good enough to work as a magical drone. But it should work to imply that Rhine was still present as a separate entity, even if it was constantly connected to his shadow. It was how Rhine usually hung out when Batman was on Justice League business, after all. As that was the most disproportionate of Batman’s media appearances, that meant that most people assumed that Rhine constantly hung out in Batman’s shadow, even in Gotham.
“Does the number of rhymes make the spell stronger?” Batgirl asked, still not nearly as used to working with magic as Robin was.
“Yeah, I’ve never heard her use three for one thing before. Three different spells in quick succession, yeah, but just one?” He shuddered at the thought. “Okay, so how are we doing this?” He asked.
“Shock and awe.” Batman summarized, “Once we stop, you two come up in stealth. By the time you arrive, things will either be resolved, or they will be thoroughly distracted. The hostages are your top priority.”
“Our enemy is placed up high,” Rhine’s face outlined, “Floor sixteenth, on you we’ll rely.”
It’s good to get some practice in switching between mouths. “Go up to the roof and go down, there’s a skylight.”
“Aren’t you using the-” Batgirl said before Batman locked in the auto-parking program and slammed the eject button. After a heartbeat’s delay, Batman gripped his cape’s ends and let the highly durable fabric catch the immense quantity of no longer compressed air that launched him halfway up the museum’s sixteen-story height, and then exerted Rhine’s magic to make it up the rest of the distance.
He handed right on the skylight, shattering it and landing on his feet at the bottom. The hostages gasped, but Cluemaster grinned, pleased at his demands being met.
“Arthur Brown.” Batman recited, silently using magic to gather information on the man. After all, Batman’s the world’s greatest detective, so naturally he would know these things. “Perpetrator of twenty-three Gotham-area burglaries in the last year, only eleven of which are known to the police. Arrested on convictions of four of them, escaped Blackgate twenty-four days ago during Black Mask’s orchestrated jailbreak of Deadshot.”
“So you do know who I am.” Cluemaster said, clearly annoyed at that fact.
“You’re a criminal.” Batman said in explanation. He took in the room; fairly typical charity gala; Cluemaster’s accomplices, bags laden with the jewelry and wallets of the rich attendees, had also cleaned off the buffet table, and smashed up some of the expensive decor as minor acts of vandalism; typical gothamite goons.
The hostages seemed mostly relieved, although they maintained some tension as they weren’t rescued yet. Bruce Wayne was doing such as well, but Batman could tell that he was carefully thinking on how he could turn this surprise to his advantage. Now that was the mind that he admired.
Cluemaster was still talking. “-and yet! Not once did I rate the attention of The Batman!” He brandished his assault rifle. “But now I’m the one with the power here!”
His examination complete, Batman stared into Cluemaster’s eyes. “Yes, I noticed the hostages.” He said, affecting a bored tone. “So far, your only demand was my presence.” He spread his hands, showing off the interior of the Batsuit, the logo, the utility belt, the armor. “Is that enough for their release, or are we going to play some sick game of yours first?”
“What do you take me for?” Cluemaster asked rhetorically.
“A second Riddler.” Batman said bluntly, distinctly not adding any insulting adjectives to it, as it would be out of character for Batman. “You pride yourself on your intellect, and thus have decided to conduct some plot to prove yourself superior to the one touted as ‘The World’s Greatest Detective’ instead of doing anything productive with it.” Bruce Wayne’s expression changed to outright pleading as the rest of the hostages panicked at Cluemaster’s growing rage. “I’m here, you have your hostages, let’s play.”
“Or I could just kill you now and spare the rest of Gotham the trouble.” Cluemaster said through gritted teeth.
“I think that’s my line.” Batman said idly, letting his shadow expand and having Rhine crawl up his back. The silver mask-like face peeked out over his shoulder and the upside down wings flickered lightly with hellfire to illuminate the black feathers as they spread out in a threat display. “Rhine, what do you think?”
“His soul looks tasty, claim it, be hasty!” Rhine giggled, “You remember the deal: Every criminal killed, a steal!” Rhine’s face turned back towards Batman’s, gesturing wildly. “You’ve kept my prize so long away,” Rhine turned back to Cluemaster. “Please shoot your gun, I hunger, you’ll pay!”
This was probably the most publicly visible instance of Rhine playing ‘hungry demon’, and while they felt like a ventriloquist, it did the job. “I told you before: criminals who face justice don’t deserve that.” Batman said, slightly scoldingly. “Now Brown, you have three options. First, you go ahead with whatever sick game you had planned. Second, surrender to police custody. Third, we fight. Someone might die, and then Rhine will personally escort you to Hell if it’s you.” Batman’s gaze intensified. “What’s your choice?”
Cluemaster’s eyes went between Batman and Rhine, the latter hovering above the former. “...Alright, if you’re so smart.” Cluemaster said spitefully. “We’ll play a game.”
To the side, one of the thugs was ambushed by Robin and Batgirl, dragged away into an alcove where they silently rendered him unconscious. Ah, they’re finally here. Good.
“The rules are simple.” Cluemaster said, getting his mental equilibrium back now that things were going according to his script. “It’s a guessing game. I give a category and a hint, and you have to guess what it is. You can ask one clarifying question to narrow things down. Guess correctly, and a hostage gets to leave. Guess wrong? You die. They die.”
“To calculate the derivative, that’s when we roll initiative.” Rhine snarked, and honestly, he was kind of proud of that one.
Cluemaster took a moment. “...Your demon plays Dungeons and Dragons?” He asked.
Ah, crap. “Booster Gold introduced her to it.” Batman said, the spell reminding him to refer to Rhine in the feminine, as he still didn’t get around to telling Bruce to not do it. The man claimed to be from another dimension where it’s the year 2473, but his surprisingly idiot-proof power armor and AI drone companion supported this assertion. Rhine actually introduced the game to him, although he was familiar with the genre. But he was also the kind of person who needed idiot-proofing, so it was easy to blame him for stuff. “First question.” He said, noting that Batgirl and Robin have thinned out a third of the two dozen goons that Cluemaster had hired for the job.
Cluemaster realized that he had once more dropped character. Was it obvious that this was his first time ‘on-stage’ as a supervillain? Yes. Yes it was. “Our first item is in the category of geography!” Cluemaster said, “Your hint is: Local Emperor.”
Batman had absolutely no idea what kind of trivia this was supposed to do. “Shouldn’t you pick a hostage?” He asked, to buy time to think.
“Ah, yes.” Cluemaster said, his eyes and gun drifting to the group of hostages.
Bruce Wayne immediately stepped forward. “I’ll take the bet.” He said confidently, sounding way too much like Batman. “If Batman’s wrong, shoot me first. He’ll get every one.” He said confidently. “This one’s easy anyway, the U.S. has only ever had one Emperor, honored in just one city.”
“Stop it.” Warned Cluemaster, pointing his assault rifle at the billionaire. “This is Batman’s contest.” His glare wandered to Batman, who was still standing amongst the shattered glass of the skylight. “That will count as your clarifying question, by the way. He’s right.”
You fucking idiot! Damn your martyr complex! Even if it did put him on the right track… The Batsuit’s communicator quietly whispered in his ear: “The answer is San Francisco.” Robin whispered, “Emperor Norton was a crazy guy in the 19th century who declared himself the Emperor of the United States.”
“San Francisco.” Batman repeated, “Now, release him.”
“No, release someone else.” Bruce said instead, “I’ll stand here for the next one, too.”
Cluemaster took a moment to think about that proposal, and nodded. “Okay boys, release one of the hostages.”
“Hey you, get outta here.” One of the goons said, pulling a woman in a tiny black dress out from the crowd. “Exit’s over there.” She power-walked out, tears of relief already spilling. One down, thirty-eight to go.
“Next.” Cluemaster said, “The topic is animals, and your hint is croquet.” Wait… was he actually making a reference to a kid’s movie? An awful lot of those were shown during the times he was attending daycare at Waynetech…
“Ball or Mallet?” Batman said firmly.
Cluemaster frowned at the specific question, clearly realizing that he had guessed where he was going with it. “Mallet.” He said petulantly.
“Flamingo.” Batman said immediately, which caused Cluemaster to gesture for another hostage to leave.
“Now things will start to get difficult.” Warns Cluemaster, “Now that you know how it works.” Good save, given that he was literally trying to trip someone up with a literally fifty year old animated film reference. “The next topic is military, and your hint is steamboat.”
“T-34/76D.” Batman said immediately, before anyone else could help. “Nicknamed Mickey Mouse by the Germans because of the appearance of the new turret.” He glared at the trivia-themed villain. “I can do this all night.”
Cluemaster scowled more, gesturing for another hostage release. Idly, Batman checked the status: only eight thugs left. Few enough that a final ambush would likely work without casualties. No wait, seven: Batgirl and Robin just captured another one. “Next topic is the Justice League, and your hint is: secret identity.” He said, grinning.
“Whose identity?” Batman asked idly, guessing where he was going with this.
“Yours. Answer correctly, or Bruce Wayne will die.” Cluemaster insisted, emphasizing that his rifle was still pointed at the man.
Well, this possibility was the primary reason they didn’t go for a ‘turn into Bruce’ spell, after all. Well, that and any injury would have a very real chance of breaking such a spell. “I don’t have an identity.” Batman said firmly, removing his cowl. Through sheer force of will, the spell enhancing his body and mind was merely suppressed instead of broken entirely. “I don’t legally exist.”
Bruce’s eyes widened, as did everyone else’s. “A tragic story, not a facade.” Rhine commented, “This is the face of one forsaken by God.”
“Now, are you going to release a hostage?” Batman asked, putting the cowl back on. “Or is this little game going to come to an end?”
“You can’t just say that and expect me to call it correct?” Cluemaster blustered.
“You’re the one who asked a question you didn’t know the answer to.” Batman said icily. “Don’t throw a tantrum just because you don’t like the answer.”
Cluemaster scowled, and he moved his rifle to shoot at Batman. It tore from his hand, as did the remaining five thugs’ rifles. Batman threw some batarangs at the thugs that Robin and Batgirl weren’t openly attacking now, and then fired a grapple at the retreating villain. It snagged on his belt and, with an exertion of magic, was pulled into Rhine’s awaiting clutches.
With the situation now fully resolved, Bruce walked up to Batman with an easy smile. “Nice to meet you at last, Batman.” He said, offering a handshake. Cameras were locked on them, providing oodles of proof that Bruce Wayne was not The Batman. “I must admit, I didn’t expect that face behind the cowl.”
He couldn’t look the billionaire in the eye. The magic strained at his fear, but he just mumbled: “...never described it for a reason.” before grappling away.
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The bed in the penthouse apartment reserved for her ArcWayne identity was surprisingly comfortable, she should have tried sleeping in it sooner. Still, it was time to go do a full day of work, for once. It’s been a while since she’s done so, after all.
“Need to go grocery shopping…” Tanya murmured as she left the apartment to go to the nearby diner for breakfast. It was one of many such diners in Gotham, one of the distinctly American things that persisted throughout the decades, fighting a brutal war with the fast food franchises.
“What’ll it be, hun?” Asked the waitress.
“Stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs, glass of milk, bacon.” Tanya rattled off, settling into her booth. She took out her state of the art Waynetech smartphone, one of the little things that Tanya suggested they design due to her limited future knowledge. It was only about five years or so ahead of the ‘natural’ development cycle, which gave it a decisive edge in market share. As she waited for her food, she looked over the news sites, which as expected had her old face front and center. Batman’s face, or so it seemed. Most people seemed convinced that Batman was lying when he said he didn’t legally exist, or at least that was the narrative the big media companies were pushing, but while there were a few hate crime spikes on the Asian American community as a result of her actions… The only ones who even tried claiming that they knew who the mysterious face was were transparently faking it for views, as any attempt to actually pin a name on the face was swiftly disproven by what Tanya assumed was Bruce’s media attack dogs, aka WayneTech’s marketing interns.
The Justice League, naturally, declined to officially comment. The Daily Planet’s article on the subject, on the other hand, put up a screen of flak to the face, Clark’s writing proposing that Batman may just be playing mind games with a mask under his mask, or he had Rhine put an illusion over his face, etcetera, basically a six hundred word essay summarized as ‘Batman bluffed Cluemaster’ and got away with it.
The phone started ringing, the display noted it as ‘BDW’, which was what she named one of Bruce’s phones; not the one he would use for official WayneTech business, but the one he would claim was his ‘personal number’, even if it wasn’t the one he’d use to call her other phone. She declined the call.
Her food arrived, at this time of day they keep those items cooking constantly just to handle the rush. As she ate, her phone rang again, this time a number that wasn’t saved on this phone. She knew the number anyway, of course. She declined it.
Meal completed, Tanya walked out swiftly and into an alleyway. “Rhine. Berechnung. Mahou. My duties I will never shirk, I move through space to go to work.” A shadowy portal opened up underneath her and she fell through.
Emerging in her office within the designated teleportation circle, Tanya sat down at her desk and pressed the button for her new secretary, after she fired Clayface’s brother. “I’ll be in the office, Vicky. Any internal meetings can be moved to today.” After a moment, she added: “Unless anyone from WayneTech calls, then I’m not here.”
“Ah, funny you should say that, boss.” Vicky said, “Bruce-”
Tanya cut her off. “I’m not here.”
“-has been waiting for you to arrive for the last twenty minutes.” Vicky finished. Damn it.
“What’s his pretense?” Tanya asked.
“Discrepancies in your quarterly report.” Vicky said, before pausing. “...Should I be calling in HR, ma’am?”
Tanya sighed. “...No. Let him in.”
Once Bruce walked into the office, Tanya activated the privacy spells she etched into the walls of her office. She then started looking through the papers that her secretary left on her desk since the last time she was in the office.
Bruce grabbed the comfortable chair she had a few steps away from her desk and moved it right in front, casually sitting in it with an expression that Tanya didn’t see, as she wasn’t looking at him.
Awkward silence passed between them, as Tanya busied herself with the reports she hadn’t yet read, and Bruce let her. Eventually, he asked a question: “Do you consider yourself a boy or girl?”
Tanya shrugged. “I have no earthly idea.” She said honestly. “Sure, I was originally a boy, but… I’ve been a girl for so long that I don’t rightly remember much about what it was like. It never really mattered much to me. I was a man, and that put me in an advantageous position in life.”
Bruce looked at her oddly. “...That’s an interesting way of putting it.”
“That's the sentiment that gave the bastard the idea to make me a girl in the first place.” Tanya said idly, still not really able to look him in the eye. “Even with all I’ve forgotten, I still remember his words. ‘You shall be brought down by being born into a non-scientific world as a girl… and come to know War.’” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t call that world non-scientific, not really…” The Empire’s attitude towards magic was as scientific as it gets. “-the step down on the rationalism meter was more due to traveling basically a century back in time, but the other two points he delivered.”
“A century?” Bruce asked, curious. “I suspected something like that, but I’m trying to imagine it.”
“It was 99 years, technically.” Tanya said, “Even then, only that much if you don’t adjust the figure for the age regression. I remember my date of death well enough, and my tenth birthday was… memorable, shall we say. Makes it easy to do the math.”
“You told me once that your first death was in 2013.” Bruce added, “It’s why I trusted you on the smart phone design.” An idea that made Bruce Wayne, personally, over one hundred billion dollars of net worth from the rise in WayneTech stock.
“Born in 1914, yes.” Tanya confirmed. “The war started in 1923, and ended in 1928.” The irony was that Being X probably didn’t actually intend for her to fight, given that timeframe. He probably wanted her to experience the horrors of war as a victim, instead of as an experienced combatant. She did, towards the very end, see a few mage conscripts that were younger than her, as the mage draft went down to thirteen year olds before the war ended. Well, technically twelve, but that group never saw combat. If the war held the same timeframe, she would have been conscripted, just as she had initially predicted. But the Empire probably would have lost faster without her. Arenne alone… Conversely, he could have started it early because of her volunteering, but there was no way to know for sure. “I can’t really comment on the course of the war, I’m not sure if I’m remembering everything in the right order anymore.”
Bruce grunted, a considering one. “Look, I already know that your life before here was bad.” He began, “You probably did plenty you regretted, and even did some stuff you don’t that you know I wouldn’t approve of.” He was speaking carefully, evenly. “That stuff wasn’t important before, and it isn’t important now.” He sounded more like he was talking to himself that time. “But what is important is that this revelation doesn’t change anything that you don’t want it to change. You don’t need to retreat into your alternate identities, come back home.”
Tanya digested the statement, the plea. She sighed deeply, turning around in her office chair to look out the window. “...I need some time to think.” What does she want? Change? No change? She doesn’t know. “I can take care of myself, just claim that I’ve fallen ill if anyone asks.”
She didn’t know what Bruce thought about that, her empathetic sense not really usable when pretending to be a full human, but he left, at least.
Argh, she hates having to make decisions without something to optimize for. It’s always so stressful…
Comments
Kevin Curry
Yes. Tanya Wayne and Dr. Tanya Degurechaff are two different people. Yeah, they kind of have a facial similarity, but their hair and skin colors are completely different. Do you really think that Bruce Wayne and Dr. Degurechaff can have a kid with ashen gray skin? Side-note: They've been keeping 'the Tanyas are actually half-sisters' in their back pocket as a fake backstory if someone seriously delves into it.
MeowATron9000
Something I have been wondering about are both identities of magic researcher and child, named Tanya?
irregularGremlin
I love it when stories with reincarnates actually tackle and deal with the issues and themes that can arise from reincarnating into another gender
