Kevin Curry
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Devil's consultancy chapter 12
🕑 Added 2024-10-01 14:00:12 +0000 UTCGotham Academy is a private school, K-12, feeding directly into Gotham University. In practice, there’s separate buildings for elementary, middle, and high schools, but there is a central campus where the dorms for the boarding students, the sports stadium, and the administration is based.
As an eleven year old in the middle of the winter, Richard would ordinarily be in the sixth grade. However, one of the academic benchmarks that Bruce demanded to allow him to be Robin was to be one grade ahead of his age level, so he was currently in seventh. The boy managed the feat of jumping ahead startlingly quickly, quite demonstrative of how motivated he was.
The meeting was held on a weekend, because one of the perks of being a private school is that the parents are paying customers instead of taxpayers, and that tilted things more towards accommodation than the public school system. Then again, public school administrators also have less ability to eject problematic students… which was more influential?
Tanya contemplated this as she idly grinded a pastry-making minigame. She finally caught that damn fish. Four random patches of water? Bullshit. After finishing a round and getting the last pastry she needed, she glanced over to the classroom where Bruce was speaking to one of Richard’s teachers. Which one? Heck if she knew.
…If everything goes on schedule, she can make it to the meeting. Or she could do something about the buzzing feeling of energy, like she had over imbibed on coffee, and her game just wasn’t helping like it should.
While it was a weekend, Bruce was not the only parent that was too busy for a weekday meeting with the teachers. So the middle school’s halls had a few people in it. Richard, seeing her fidget, spoke up: “Oh no. Tanya? Do not. No. Stay put.” He said, but there was a resigned quality to his voice.
Egged on by the siren call of being told not to do something, Tanya decided that it was a good time to have a nice public bit of mischief to further reinforce her cover. “You’re it.” She said, poking Richard. “Catch me if you can!” She shouted, bolting down the reasonably clear hall.
Surprisingly, one of the older boys, well built, went for a textbook football tackle. Unfortunately, ‘textbook’ meant he was already a little off-target, she was much shorter than he was probably used to. She went for a baseball slide, ducking underneath the bulk of the teenager who probably played football. Using a nearby bench as an anchor, she pulled herself back up smoothly, reflexively leaping into the air and spinning. Once back on the ground, she oriented herself and bolted down another hallway far faster than anyone who didn’t know she was a figure skater would expect.
This was fun! Tanya cackled as she ran down the halls. “No running in the halls!” Echoed an adult who decided to park his own impressive girth in her way.
“Fight with spirit!” Tanya said in Japanese, comparing their confrontation with a sumo match. Assessing his stance, she leapt up and let the man absorb the full force of her impact. He staggered, but was able to immediately grab her fur coat. It was all for naught, because she had already slipped out and used the opportunity the stop provided to slip into a different hallway. She needed to shed a layer to prevent overheating from this exertion anyway.
Every other hallway, an adult or older teenager decided to attempt to stop her, but they were increasingly distracted by the other children who were inspired by her actions and started running around themselves.
After enough turns that she had genuinely lost track of where she was going, a set of powerful arms shot out and plucked her mid-stride. “Hi Daddy!” Tanya said, grinning widely.
It always impressed Tanya just how good Bruce was at acting; he was playing the perfect exasperated parent while including an undercurrent of ‘trying not to smile’. “What, pray tell, caused this little ruckus?” He asked, with an extremely unamused Headmaster behind him.
“Felt like running.” She said simply, taking deep breaths. Even with the energy of a child, running at full tilt for that long took it out of her.
Bruce looked amusedly at the Headmaster. “What was that about Tanya leaving homeschooling?” He asked.
“I maintain that she would benefit.” The older man said. “She’d learn that such things would be unacceptable, for one.”
“Uh huh.” Bruce said, unimpressed. “Tanya, right triangle. A is five, B is seven. C?”
Tanya thought about the problem. 25 + 49, square root of 74…“Eight and a half, eight point six?”
“Why did the American Revolution happen?” Bruce added.
“Taxes.” Tanya stated confidently.
Bruce offered the floor to the Headmaster. “How do cells make more of themselves?” He asked.
“Mitosis.” Tanya said immediately.
“Which is?” The Headmaster continued, not accepting a potentially memorized response.
“They grow big, make a second core, line up everything, then fwoop!” Tanya said, miming two cells splitting apart. Single-word vocabulary was one thing, but saying things in a childish manner both maintained her cover and also demonstrated that she actually understood the topic in question.
“I told you she was further ahead than Dick was, Mr. Hammer.” Bruce said, “She’s just… impulsive. Easily distracted. Because she’s five.”
“Hm. Quite.” Hammer the Headmaster (who Tanya just remembered was nicknamed ‘Hammerhead’ by the students) said. “Well, while I could ask you to stay for one last meeting with young Richard’s math teacher…” He glanced to the side, where Richard was walking up with Tanya’s fur coat in his hands. “...I think I’d much rather all of you leave. Now.”
Minutes later, in the limo, Bruce sighed. “I can already see Margie’s smug article in the PTA newsletter…” He said, seeming more bothered by that than he should.
“I did get us out of there early.” Tanya pointed out. “You could have just let me stay at the manor, you know.”
“The Headmaster insisted on meeting you.” Bruce countered, “Still, despite it being more public than I wanted, good job on stopping that cold. Homeschooling isn’t an enshrined right in this state, and Collingwood’s soft power could make things difficult.” Hammer’s first name was Collingwood?
“...Can we go to Bat Burger?” Richard asked. Bat Burger was a Batman-themed fast food restaurant that opened two months ago when a local well-liked fast food franchise was ruined by an encounter with the Condiment King, losing their franchise license. Local support allowed them to rebuild and rebrand, to much rejoicing.
“Fried Batarangs!” Tanya said with excitement. Yes, they were just chicken nuggets. But the sauce!
Bruce stared at them. He was not a fan of Bat Burger. But as the two children stared back, begging with their eyes, he sighed. “Alfred?”
“Already pulling in, Master Bruce.”
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The meeting to evaluate the properties and possible uses of powdered midnight with a very put out John Constantine didn’t take that long; after three hours they had figured out how to incorporate it as a substitute for environmental conditions and had brainstormed enough alternate uses that can be explored at their leisure during business days.
Most notably, a way to turn the powder into a paintable pigment was developed, and John magically coated his obsidian mirror with it after removing the previous carbon black paint. It was somehow even darker than the vantablack.
Afterwards, Tanya had to bid her employees (and John) goodbye, as she teleported back to the Batcave. Being openly known as a practitioner of strength was so useful… Now, to review the data from last night.
Fortunately, data storage technology is just barely advanced enough for a flash drive to store a whole night’s worth of video from the tiny camera affixed to Robin’s mask. It was a measure Tanya proposed for evidence gathering purposes, and it had already proven useful.
“...It’s Barbie.” Tanya said immediately after reviewing the footage.
Batman hummed. “Yes, Miss Gordon is my top suspect.” After a pause, he added, in a tone that made it clear he was just playing Devil’s advocate: “It could just be a coincidence, though.”
“I suppose there could be another athletic brunette with-” Robin put his hand over her mouth as Tanya continued her description, using hand gestures to represent body parts as she recited the girl’s exact measurements as the computer program outlined from the compiled data. Eventually, Robin removed the hand. “-with the combat and athletic skills to hand Robin his own butt on a silver platter.” After a moment, she added: “She also has enough computer skills that it’s plausible that she broke into the cache on her own.” Barbie had programming awards. Tanya vaguely recalled winning similar awards, lifetimes ago, but she had long forgotten those skills.
“Stranger things have happened.” Selina said, clearly amused. She didn’t tend to attend these meetings much, but she always dressed up in her catsuit when she did.
“Couldn’t be that hard to confirm.” Tanya said, “I’ll go to her house and check for Bat gadgetry.” Or signs of an outside safehouse, maybe read her diary…
“After you finish your schedule.” Batman insisted in his usual hypocritical manner. For him, Batman’s work was the highest priority. For them, training, practice, and education was. Which wasn’t fair, but it was also the right and proper way of things between parent and child.
Selina spoke up, casually examining her nails. “You haven’t done your workout, then it’ll be dinner, then your piano practice.”
Tanya sighed and muttered a rhyme: “Strength is not free, train with a gi.” This magically shifted her clothes into a martial arts gi. “I had to deal with Constantine today, I’m in the mood for combat training for my workout.” While it wasn’t as potent as her full devil form, she had more developed muscles in her teenage form, and could channel more magic into reinforcement and reflex enhancement wordlessly than she could as a child. More importantly, she might at some point have to fight in this form, so it was smart to do the training in this form.
The same mystical process that prevents her from needing to eat for each body she has (and suspends those needs when in devil form) also made exercise translate between them as long as she exercised at an intensity appropriate to the body she was using. She sometimes wondered how her first body was impacted… but still couldn’t muster up the nerve to actually shift back into it to check.
“Alright.” Batman said, removing his cloak, gauntlets, and utility belt as he walked (which provoked a catcall from Selina) to the sparring ring, before taking a combat stance of his own, broken up only by him miming a cigarette pull. “Come on, luv.” He said, in a very accurate John Constantine impression. “Let’s have a scrap.” He said, flicking the pretend cigarette away.
He only barely dodged Tanya’s fist to his face, a thin coating of magic cushioning her punches. The battle was on.
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Barbie lived in one of the few places in the city that had actual houses. Commissioner Gordon may have a lot of problems in his job from the general state of corruption he has to clean up, but at least his efforts were rewarded with a sizable wage.
She had to hide her materials from someone who was a highly trained detective, so that limited her options. She would need to keep them in places that Jim wouldn’t even try to search, as there was little hope of him overlooking something if he searched a closet on the hunt for an old eight track player or bowling ball or whatever.
Which is why Rhine’s first place to search is the girl’s bedroom, probably concealed behind something that would disincentivize Jim from searching an area thoroughly. Unfortunately, Barbie appeared to still be there, working… on refilling Batgirl’s utility belt. Convenient. They knew coming just before sunset was a good idea.
“Preparing for the end of day? What will old Jim Gordon say?” Rhine said warningly, slipping through the crack in the window in shadow form before turning solid, crouched on Barbie’s bedpost like a gargoyle.
Barbie, to her credit, grabbed one of the stolen batarangs she had piled next to her and threw it in her direction, precisely in the right way to hit them center mass. A distraction instead of something dangerous, but that was something of the idea when using batarangs. Batman would approve.
“Naughty, Naughty, little girl. That’s not a toy that you’ve just hurled.” Rhine said chidingly, catching it with ease. Reflex acceleration was as easy as breathing in this form, activated the instant her senses registered a potentially hostile action from her.
“Who are you?” Barbie said, clearly terrified but putting on a brave front. “And what’s with the rhyming?”
Rhine slumped their shoulders, as they had no mouth to frown. “I know my fame is not that great, but surely a big fan would know my state?” With a flick of the wrist, the batarang went into its compressed form, and they stashed it in a pool of darkness that flickered into existence on their left wing. “I am known as Rhine, agent of Batman, some of the time.”
Barbie calmed, but was still wary. “...Better question: What are you? How did you find me?”
“This body is nothing but my naked soul, and a compass is simple, your hair a pole.” Rhine did make a tracking spell ahead of time to cover for them just recognizing her, using a hair taken from a brush that was in the bathroom for the room designated for her use in the manor. They brandished it, an actual compass needle bereft of its normal container with a brown hair visibly wrapped around it. Robin was very embarrassed that he didn’t snatch a hair during their fight.
“Naked is right…” Barbie muttered, eyes drifting before looking more at Rhine’s wings. “So what now?”
“A meeting is needed, for how you’ll be treated.” Rhine replied, “Can’t allow you to steal our brand, reflects badly on us, this cannot stand.”
Barbie’s face twisted in confusion. “Wait, you’re mad because of… branding?”
“Ditch the cowl or join our prowl.” Rhine said simply, “Batman decides, between those sides.” They extended a hand. “Meet my master, answer faster.”
“...I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.” Barbie said, resigned. “My dad’s staying late at work, let me set my decoy.”
Rhine focused their energies. “First you must dress, Batman you’ll impress.” A ring of magic appeared above Barbie and went down, replacing her clothing with the Batgirl costume that was on the bed, leaving the other clothes to deposit themselves into her laundry hamper. Incidentally, the materials she had yet to load into the utility belt also teleported into place. “Then the supplies, reclaimed with no lies.” Every single bat-item that wasn’t on Batgirl’s person vanished into wherever items go when she puts them away. Professor Blood said it was an innate power of demons and other spiritual beings to store things in a personal dimension within their soul, and demon magic can emulate this property. “Leave here a shade, to provide a facade.” Mispronouncing words that were close weakened her rhyme magic, but she doesn’t need something like this to be at full power. A pool of darkness created an admittedly dead-looking facsimile of Barbie in the bed, properly shaped and everything.
Batgirl turned off the light; the weakened spell didn’t do supplementary actions like that, and crept out of the window. Rhine turned to shadow, flowed through the window, and solidified, picking up Batgirl with magic and flying towards the meeting. “Is this how Batman gets around so fast?” She asked, a sense of awe creeping into her voice.
“Too obvious for him, his methods are dim.” Wait, that made it sound like they thought Batman’s methods were stupid. “Many are they are, depending near or far.” They elaborated.
“...You’re really committed to the rhyming thing, huh?” Batgirl commented.
“It is a devil’s compulsion, despite the revulsion.” They actually didn’t mind rhymes and puns, but they disliked the limitations it imposed on principle.
“...Oh.” Batgirl said, a pitying tone in her voice. “I’ll stop talking about it.” After a moment she asked: “Does it still happen with sign language?”
Rhine immediately signed: “Absolutely yes,” Their hand stilled, trembled, then immediately signed at a blistering pace, the pause being no longer than a single second: “which causes much stress.”
“...How did I understand that?” Batgirl asked. “I can barely see your hand.”
“The rhymes are tragic, but they’re also magic.” Rhine said drolly. It was the pseudo-telepathic ability that lets both demons and angels communicate with all mortal languages. It also meant that everyone they flipped off could automatically understand the ‘Fuck you, God too’ that was represented by the exact upward angle they held their middle finger. Which the rhyming compulsion forced them to maintain. There were upsides to being a demon, after all.
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It took only five minutes, as the devil flies, to reach Union Station. Specifically, right behind the gigantic clock that was at the top of the building. Batman had been slowly converting the place into a backup to the Batcave, in case it became compromised, but there wasn’t anything obvious here yet, just a space that had floors but nothing else. Once he finished getting the secret infrastructure, electrical lines, plumbing, etc., they’ll put in computer systems and such.
There were, however, several dozen bats here at this time of day, about half an hour before the sun sets. “Why here?” Batgirl asked in a whisper, looking around.
“Bats shelter in places people don’t go.” Batman replied simply. “We won’t be disturbed here.” He was crouched on a box, only his cowl and cape visible. Rhine transformed into darkness slipped into his shadow dramatically.
Batgirl took a moment to digest that blunt statement. “Okay.” She said, smiling. “I halfway expected you to start rhyming, too.” Batman grunted, the disapproval in his tone reminding Batgirl that he was evaluating her. “Uh… So I’m Batgirl.” She said, sticking her hand out for a handshake.
“Barbara Gordon, daughter of Police Commissioner Jim Grodon. Age sixteen.” Batman rattled off clinically, causing the girl to wince. “Black belt in two styles, accolades in gymnastics and programming. Trained in the use of the tonfa. Awarded seven bounties from the Waynetech security vulnerability bounty program.” Huh. Rhine didn’t know about some of those. “Attends Otisburg high school as a junior, on track to graduate this year. Ex-cheerleader captain. Expected to receive a full ride scholarship to Gotham University, computer science and criminology double-major anticipated.”
Batgirl seemed thoroughly intimidated at Batman’s list, before blushing at the last one. “Only for one semester...the coach begged Dad when Wendy broke her leg.” She murmured, looking away. “Everyone else was too scared of her to take the captain slot.”
“I know.” Batman said ominously. “You have an excellent life ahead of you, Miss Gordon.” He continued, still acting like a gargoyle. “You have much to lose, meting out beatings to the criminal element. Have you ever considered what impact your vigilante actions would have on Commissioner Gordon’s reputation? His integrity?”
The girl paled, not prepared for this line of argumentation. “What? This city is falling apart. You can’t be everywhere, I can help.”
“This job is dangerous.” Batman said gravely.
“You let a kid help you.” Batgirl said, insulted. “What does he have that I don’t? I kicked his butt.”
“Conviction.” Batman replied, “Specialized training. Rhine’s magical support.”
“I’d be way more effective than he is.” Batgirl argued, “What is he, ten?”
Batman stared her down. “Six.” He said suddenly, glancing at the sunset. This time of year, the sun sets at 6PM.
“...Six hours of what?” Batgirl asked.
“Rhine will supervise you for the next six hours.” Batman elaborated, “Do as you will in that time. I have a case to pursue.”
“Yeah, the Clay burglaries.” Batgirl said, because of course she knew about the case Jim passed onto Batman. “I have a tap in the GCPD database, and there’s a fresh scene I was going to check out.”
“I already know about it.” Batman said curtly. “Rhine, take her back to her home base. Do not assist her except if she’s in danger. Put her to bed at midnight, then do so yourself.”
“The beginning of your test, your home is where we start our quest.” Dramatically, Rhine enveloped Batgirl with magic and teleported back to her house. “I will follow out of your gaze, proceed with your normal ways.” They went into the girl’s shadow and focused on keeping an eye out for danger.
“Well, first we go to the shed for my bike.” Batgirl muttered as she unlocked the fence gate at the side of her house. It took about two minutes for her to run her checks on the motorcycle and walk it outside, eventually turning the thing on and driving off.
Let’s hope this would be more interesting than following Robin, at least.
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Batgirl’s methods were, surprisingly, even more tech-focused than Batman’s. She had a tap on the GCPD database, as she mentioned, but also at the local 911 call center, and had programmed a computer to automatically search for locations on Lexicon and, after determining which ones were within her response radius, notified her about incidents.
This was on top of her working on the Clay case. Batgirl had arrived at the latest crime scene right on time to see Batman leaving it, having already gathered evidence, collected samples, etcetera. Grumbling at losing the informal race, she proceeded to follow normal police procedure for gathering evidence, logging it just as the private companies who do such a thing would. Rhine knew of these procedures because Batman does the same thing.
This particular burglary was one of the strangest yet: it was a specialty clothing store, working with elaborate dresses that aren’t really fashionable in mainstream society. Rhine’s child body has a very cute black dress from here, gifted by Selina. Went well with her pale-as-death complexion.
“Stolen porcelain, expensive furniture, assorted costumes, jewelry, candles, and now… dresses.” Batgirl murmured as she stared at the crime scene. “It doesn’t make sense. What’s the connection?”
Rhine actually had a rough idea. Unlike Batgirl, they already knew about the Clay of Life, and it was clearly someone who managed to create a golem-like servant out of it, managing to control it sloppily to steal things they want. Not a career criminal, with access to fences and money laundering, but someone who is new to theft and how to avoid getting caught. An experienced criminal would steal money or things that can be quickly turned into money, and then buy such distinctive items with the stolen money.
The question was in the specifics: It was clearly someone who had a taste for seeming refined, given the fact that the stolen goods were luxuries. That didn’t exactly narrow it down much. But the dresses narrowed it down a little; there was a girl involved, although the dresses on display were on the large side with the design intended to be adjusted to the customer. So the size didn’t necessarily mean anything.
Nevertheless, Rhine merely observed, assessing Batgirl’s methods and noting where she required further education. Case studies on metahuman psychology as it relates to criminology seem to be at the top of that list.
She did, however, have three more minor cases she was documenting, two domestic violence cases and one drug dealer. Once her casework was finished, with no ability to do anything further, Batgirl moved on to what she started with; patrolling and stopping muggings and other minor crimes.
Midnight approached, and there was the sound of breaking glass. Batgirl maneuvered herself to a good vantage and cursed. It was a robbery of a gas station, with four burly men, two of which had guns. The robbers were, at a glance, associated with the Carnival, a street gang of teenagers that look up to the Joker’s infamy and use his imagery to terrorize the populace. Batman had noted that the Joker seems to deliberately ignore them, which he suspected was setting up some kind of long con. “...I can’t take that many.” Batgirl admitted to herself. “Take down one gun and the other’ll shoot me.”
“Wise to admit, few would submit.” Rhine commented, causing Batgirl to almost scream, but she slapped her hands over her own mouth.
“You’re still here?” She asked, surprised.
“Stay here where it’s safe, I know it will chafe.” Rhine warned, “Soon is our check-in, I’ll be just a second.” It took less than a second to move to the entrance to the gas station, and with a thought both firearms floated out of their hands, suddenly coated in a frictionless field of energy while also locking the trigger in place. Their wings turned into flame, drawing the attention of everyone.
“What the?” The lead ganger, who was the one allowed to wear purple, said.
“It’s Batman’s demon!” Another shouted, terrified. Ah, their reputation precedes them.
“Look who’s in town? A bundle of clowns. Wrapped up in fashion, you won’t get to cash in.” Two rhymes allowed a large amount of magical power to be unleashed, the clothes of the gangers turning into colorful straightjackets, including restraints on their legs. Rhine picked them up and took them outside. “This store’s in disarray, let’s make some headway.” The overturned shelving righted itself and the shopping cart they brought to carry the snacks and sodas they were stealing along with the money back to where they belong. Only the largest and most inconvenient messes were reversed, however: it wouldn’t do to clean the crime scene completely.
The cashier, a young red-haired man, was too busy praying to do anything productive, clutching a tiny crucifix, so Rhine just left. Shortly thereafter, a GCPD car showed up, a surprisingly short response time. Must have gotten an alarm off before Batgirl noticed the robbery.
The cop was one that Rhine knew the name of: Renee Montoya. A woman of firm convictions, one of Jim’s most reliable beat cops. She was expected to be promoted to Detective soon, after she finished the necessary education on the side. “Oh great, where’s Batman?”
“I was on a task, when intervention was asked.” Rhine replied, “These thugs sought to rob the store and the swab.”
Montoya sighed, “Ugh. Okay. Steve? Book em.” She said to her partner, a much larger man whose exit from the squad car caused it to visibly rock in place. “You can leave, I’ll confirm everything with the cashier, I don’t have enough caffeine to take yours.”
Rhine bowed and withdrew, going back to Batgirl. “Our work is done, you’ve done a ton. I must report back, to speak of your knack.”
Batgirl looked nervous, but nodded. “...Okay, yeah. I’ll call it a night here.” They went back on her motorcycle, and once she was back in her room, she changed out of the Batsuit, and Rhine put it away in their shadow. “...How did I do?”
“Your skillset has gaps, too many? Perhaps.” Rhine replied. Barbie winced. “But Robin was worse, if you’ll pardon my verse.” She looked hopeful at the admission. “Batman’s the judge, there will be no grudge.”
“I think I’m beginning to get used to you…” Barbie mused. “So, Batman doesn’t hate me, so you think he’ll be fair? What do you think will happen?”
Hm, how to put this? “You need training for patrols, he’ll want some control.” They waved vaguely towards the window. “If you atone what you stole, you’ll get resources and goals. Obey and comply, do not work on the sly.”
Barbie frowned. “If I don’t?”
“He’ll bother your father.” Rhine said bluntly.
She opened her mouth to retort, then paused. “...I don’t have any response to that.” She admitted.
“Just wait for us now, for instructions on how.”
Comments
MeowATron9000
"daughter of Police Commissioner Jim Grodon. Age sixteen.” Batman rattled off clinically, causing the girl to wince." Jim Gordon
Eldar ortell
This chapter was great
