Kevin Curry
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A young devil's consultancy 2
🕑 Added 2024-01-09 01:24:37 +0000 UTCSomeone paid for another chapter. Enjoy!
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“Okay, now here's a square block.” Said Mrs. Cher.
“Square.” Tanya repeated, grabbing the block and feeling it out. She then stuck the block in her mouth.
Tanya had agreed with Bruce’s logic that while his wealth made it theoretically possible for her to just hide away for two or three years before emerging as an adult, it was an incredibly risky endeavor that had the potential for explosive consequences. Unacceptable.
Further, he just wasn't that old. He had apparently spent his early teens to mid twenties in an educational frenzy, and it would be basically impossible to claim her as his child if they went with that plan. He refused to besmirch his father’s name to claim a sibling relationship either, which was fair.
So they had to tell a misleading version of the truth mixed with lies. Mother really was imprisoned in a mental institution, it was just that the institution was Arkham Asylum for the criminally insane. The implication that there was complicated bioscience behind her creation was a genius move, she wasn't aware that this world was advanced enough to make that plausible.
The part where she pretended to act out developmental stages was her proposal, though. Bruce didn't want to suggest it himself, but once proposed he swiftly agreed and arranged for all of the necessary textbooks in child development necessary to let her get away with it.
They had split her act into three. First was physical development, the things that she wouldn't need to hold back at all. Walking, jumping, eating, and manual dexterity fell into this category. Second was her emotional development, where she would do her best to act purely according to her temporal age, as in, a six months old infant. Patience, attention span, modesty, and prioritization fell into this category. Third was her mental development, which is supposed to fall somewhere in between, age-wise. Vocabulary, math, and decision-making fell into this, and was a somewhat plausible explanation in case she got caught playing video games beyond her nominal levels of development.
Certain things clearly fell into multiple categories, such as potty training, but in those cases it was agreed to err on the side of younger, with ad hoc adjustments as needed. The accelerated growth meant that she’d still be coming out ahead, and diapers were a fantastic prop to sell her cover.
“Tanya, blocks aren't for eating.” Mrs. Cher said patiently. She took the square block out of Tanya’s mouth and placed it in her hands again. “Now, can you put the square block in the box?” Mrs. Cher asked, enunciating the word ‘box’ clearly and gesturing to it with multiple points of body language.
Tanya looked at the colorful box with holes of various shapes. Slowly, acting unsure, she fitted the block into the square hole.
This was supposed to be an initial cognitive test, to see how developed she was in comparison to her temporal age. Theoretically, if she passed, she could be sent to a special education school.
She was supposed to fail, of course. But failure in this case meant being unsuitable or unready for schooling, not being stupid. “That's right!” Mrs. Cher praised, “The square block goes into the square hole!”
“Square hole.” Tanya repeated. “Block go square hole.”
“Very good.” Mrs. Cher said, gently patting Tanya on the head. “Now, this is a triangle block. Can you get it in the box?”
“Triangle.” Tanya repeated, before sticking the block in her mouth.
“Blocks are not for eating, sweetie.” Mrs. Cher said, still quite patient. She once more extracted the block from Tanya’s mouth and moved it into her hands.
“Block…” She looked at the box and the block. Wait… Tanya smiled widely as she got an idea. “Block go square hole!” She announced proudly. With only a minor bit of maneuvering, the block went in rather simply.
“No, it goes in the triangle hole.” Mrs. Cher said softly.
Tanya looked at her, confused. “Block go in square hole.” She repeated, gesturing vaguely at the box. It fit, didn't it? It wasn't her fault that the manufacturer designed it poorly.
“...okay, how about this block? It's a circle. Can you say circle?” Mrs. Cher asked, giving up on her unassailable logic.
“Circle.” Tanya said, looking over the block and the box. She opened her mouth again, but stopped halfway to putting the block inside. “Block…”
“That's right Tanya, blocks are not for eating.” Mrs. Cher said, smiling widely at Tanya ‘learning’ a lesson.
Can this one… yes! “Block go in square hole!” She said cheerily, sliding the poorly designed block into the wrong slot.
The instantaneous change to a pinched expression of displeasure on Mrs. Cher’s face was rather amusing, and Tanya acted her age by bursting out in laughter, clapping her hands at the funny face.
“This is a semicircle block.” She said evenly, handing Tanya the object.
“Block go in square hole!” Tanya said, immediately turning the block in just the right way to fit it inside the box.
Mrs. Cher let out a pained whine and looked at Bruce, who was watching the exchange acting like he was trying not to laugh, pleadingly. “She's getting it in the box.” Pointed out Bruce. “Seems like a design flaw to me.”
This wasn't going to get any more entertaining. “Bottle.” She demanded, looking at her diaper bag. Time to execute the failure plan.
“The test isn't finish-” Mrs. Cher tried to say.
“Bottle!” Tanya shouted over her. When she once more attempted to gently redirect Tanya’s demand, she just started screaming until she was shut up by the bottle of custom high-calorie baby formula. It was chocolate flavored, because why not?
Bruce coughed, acting embarrassed at Mrs. Cher’s disappointed look. “The doctors did advise that we try not to deny her food, and just let her eat when hungry.” Which was all of the time, to be clear. The only reason she ever stopped eating was because while her digestion was quick, it wasn't instantaneous. But then ten minutes later, she was hungry again.
Mrs. Cher made a cleansing breath. “Well, let's move on to something else.”
“Like a diaper change?” Bruce asked, pointing down at her.
“Already?” Mrs. Cher asked. “We just-”
“Yeah, you have to stay on top of that.” Bruce said, nodding sagely like he was an experienced parent instead of just a good actor. “She doesn't really care about a wet diaper, Alfred was beside himself when she leaked over a hundred year old chair.” Another strategic lie. Alfred was far too canny to give her the chance to do that. “Hang on Teia, you need to use the buckles. She'll roll off the table and run off if you don't.” Aw, she was looking forward to the chase after they came up with that part of the plan.
“I know how to change a diaper, Mr. Wayne.” Mrs. Cher said primly, putting the straps over Tanya but not securing them properly.
Tanya smiled as she waited for her moment. To Mrs. Cher’s credit, she was nimble and kept a hand on Tanya’s stomach… but she failed to account for how much stronger a three year old was in comparison to an actual baby, so once the cleaning phase was finished and the teacher lowered her guard to fetch a clean diaper, Tanya rolled off the table anyway and ran for the door, pantsless and full of mischief. Bruce launched himself at her in an attempt to catch the runaway toddler, but did so without any of the grace he possessed as the Batman and fell substantially short of his supposed goal. “Tanya! Come back!” He shouted, convincingly distressed, but Tanya responded with her own line, that of demented giggling.
In the end, it was agreed that while she was, indeed, a “very intelligent baby”, it was clear that putting her with children her own age in a daycare would lead to her being bored, which would not end well, and she was far too immature for interactions with her mental/physical peers to work out any better.
Just as planned.
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“The Bat walks the night as the Man walks the Bright. As the sun sets in the west, the Bat wakes from his rest.” Tanya intoned, waving her hands as hellish power emanated from them. Her eyes glowed with power, illuminating the dark corner of the cave with silvery light.
Batman inhaled sharply, snapped from the desperate exhaustion he was in to full alertness. “I feel… rested.” He said, wondering at her work. “Why was it so much better than last time?” He asked.
Tanya smiled proudly. “According to my reading, magic tends to work with… associations. While yes, I could do most offensive or destructive things by barely trying with a token rhyme and manage through sheer power… constructive and healing magic works a bit differently. By tying the spell with the night and day cycle, along with the duality of your identity, I was able to give you a much more thorough energizing spell.” Tanya’s smile slipped a bit. “I can do it again, but only at sunrise or sunset, and only if you refrain from acting as Batman for at least eight hours before sunset, or the reverse. The fact that you were Bruce Wayne for the last ten hours was the only reason it worked.”
Batman nodded, absorbing the explanation. “Multiverse theory, creating a differentiated superposition between me as Batman and not. My Batman half sleeps while the not half acts...” Tanya rolled her eyes. While yes, that sounded about right, his insistence on explaining her spells scientifically got boring after a while. Even in her second life, where math directed the spells, there wasn't much understanding on why the magic worked, just that it did.
“I would say that the magic altered your neurochemistry by using a post-cognitive simulation of that happening as a guide, but to each their own.” Tanya said, before sighing. “Now go solve crimes or punch clowns or whatever it is that you do. I've done my part.”
Batman nodded and turned dramatically, striding with purpose towards the Batmobile and getting in.
Once the caped crusader had left, Alfred spoke up: “Is it really wise to let him overwork himself even more?”
“If he won't listen to you about limiting his work, I don't have much of a chance.” Tanya said firmly. “I wasn't exactly trained in medical magic, but Devil magic works differently enough that I'm not much disadvantaged by that.”
“It is an improvement, I suppose.” Alfred said dryly. “Now, I let you stay up because of your magic idea, but now it's bedtime, Miss Tanya.”
Tanya yawned. “Yeah, yeah. Can I have some chocolate milk?” by which she meant the high calorie formula.
“Of course.”
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Tanya didn’t get to go on dedicated outings much. Going along with wherever Bruce was going as part of his work with Wayne Enterprises? Plenty of that, as Alfred could only be in one place at a time and if anyone caught wind of her being left without a minder for any substantial amount of time… well, undoable. It wasn’t so bad, she got to throw things at people. Mostly because part of her infantile persona was an intense dislike, which was not entirely faked, for flash photography, so she chucked whatever was on hand at anyone who took her picture.
There were plenty of jokes about her taking Bruce’s place the next time he was asked to throw the first pitch at a baseball game.
But while Batman did handle costumes crazies, and she means that quite literally, the vast majority of his work was dealing with more mundane, organized crime. Which sometimes required that he takes action as Bruce instead of Batman.
In this case, he was taking Tanya to the circus. Not to submit her application to the freak show, which was a joke only she found funny (probably because Haly’s circus didn't have a freak show, not that she knew that at the time), but to instead gather some information that could only be acquired during the day, in a crowded area. Part of Batman’s mystique was stealth, and part of maintaining that legend without magical stealth powers was not attempting to hide from hundreds of people while wearing a very conspicuous bat suit in a place with few good hiding places.
Honestly, Tanya was a little unclear on why he needed to be here, something about a protection racket he was investigating, criminal boss named Tony Zucco, but all she needed to do was provide Bruce an excuse to visit the circus, which was a role she made sure to enjoy.
Currently, the famous acrobats were beginning their death defying routine, without a net as was their custom. Seemed stupid to her, but she’s done more dangerous under less controlled conditions, so she really doesn't have room to talk. She was seated in her luxuriously comfortable stroller, which was brought out more to keep her from running off than anything else. Also to make Bruce slipping away from her for short times be less irresponsible. She didn't mind; as mentioned the customized mobile kid prison was quite comfortable.
She took another bite of her corn dog. Delicious. “Wow! They're flying, Daddy!” She said with wonder, hamming up her performance.
Bruce chuckled. “They sure are, Tanya.” Then he frowned. “What is…”
Bruce had good instincts, his trained mind picking up on cues he didn't consciously understand to give him flashes of intuition. Tanya tensed as she sensed his sudden worry.
But whatever minor hint tipped him off, it was too late. The trapeze snapped, sending the adult members of the Flying Greysons plummeting to the ground while their son watched in horror.
Shit, what rhymes with net? “Though you made a risky bet, lucky that-” it was too late. She welded her lips shut, letting the magic painfully ground out. She was too slow.
Fortunately, there was no way an ordinary person would notice the sparks of silver magic, not the crackling of hellfire that sounded out with it. Not in the cacophony of horrified screams, nor with the incredibly distracting scene in the middle of the Big Top.
Unfortunately, it was the start of something very inconvenient for her.
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Richard was a boy that was angry at the world. Which was fair. The world deserved it.
“I don't want to play with the stupid baby.” He shouted indignantly at Alfred.
“Perhaps some videogames then, Master Dick?” Alfred said patiently.
Tanya watched the boy, idly chewing on a tough rubber toy. While she’s kept up the baby act enough over the past month since the cult bust up that it had started to become second nature, it was still a little tiresome to keep up in places that she could relax before Bruce decided to adopt the unfortunate eight year old orphan.
“...Fine.” Richard said, interested despite himself. “What do you have?”
“Miss Tanya is rather fond of this one.” Alfred said, turning on the game that was currently inside it.
“...wait, she can play videogames?” Richard asked, confused.
“She's quite advanced for her age in more than just size, Master Dick.” Alfred said.
Taking the opening for what it was, Tanya walked to the couch and climbed on. “I wanna play.” She said, in that stubborn tone that indicated that only a contest of wills would sway her.
“Here you are, Miss.” Alfred said, before handing Richard a second controller.
The game that was supposed to be her “favorite game” if anyone asked was Super Monkey Ball, a chaotic, colorful, and most importantly simple title that would appeal to the younger demographic, and also was fun enough that Tanya liked it, although she spent far more time optimizing her legion of pets in the Sonic game. Which she named after her old battalion.
Still, the fact that Richard didn't have videogames of his own as a circus acrobat, only occasionally getting the chance to play other people’s games, meant that he was clumsy with the controller, although he grasped the physics engine appropriately quickly for someone used to three dimensional maneuvering.
“Ha!” He said when he finally secured a victory, after fourteen losses. “This is the beginning of the end for you!”
“I want a snack.” Tanya said, the unspoken ‘bored now’ added by her careless discarding of the controller. “Alfred? Can I have a snack?”
“Of course, Miss Tanya.” Alfred said. “I have some carpaccio here for you.” He took a plate of thinly sliced beef from the table and presented it to her.
“Hey!” Richard said, indignant. “I wasn't done with you!”
“You play whatever.” Tanya said, yawning.
“Perhaps a nap after you finished your snack, Miss Tanya?” Alfred suggested.
“Sounds good.” Tanya said. “Ri-chan needs a nap too.”
“It's Richard.” Richard corrected, emphasizing the D. Tanya snorted at her own private joke. “Call me Dick.”
“Dick.” Tanya repeated, pointing at him as she ate the meat with her off hand.
“That's not what I mean!” Richard said, understanding exactly what she was getting at. Then he paused. “Argh, I'm arguing with a literal baby.”
“Losing.” Tanya pointed out smugly.
“No, I'm not going to argue with you.” Richard said stubbornly. “You don't even know what that means.” He turned to Alfred, anger firming his posture and, paradoxically, making him more respectful to the authority figure. “I'm pretty sure she needs a change.”
“Yep.” Tanya said in agreement shamelessly, downing the last slice of beef. It was pre-portioned for her, so there wasn't much. “All done. I want chocolate milk with my nap.”
Richard growled at his failure to get a rise out of her. Being a spoiled brat was fun.
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Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.
Well, two out of three wasn't bad. “Still have ten more minutes until sunrise.” Tanya said, yawning. “Let's talk about your cases. You need to stay Batman to keep the spell at peak performance.”
Batman hummed. Both of them glanced at the gigantic supercomputer, and went to sit down, Batman in his chair and Tanya in his lap. “Currently, I'm still looking into the Greyson’s murder. I've managed to collect enough evidence that the GCPD can arrest both Tony Zucco and his patsy, but he's caught wind of my interest. Tony’s laying low, and I can't find him.”
“Perhaps a locator spell?” Tanya asked, looking over the evidence listed on the screen. “Worth a try.” he doesn't need a chain of evidence for producing the perp, after all.
“Hn. Maybe.” Batman said, before moving on. “Crane’s starting trouble again.” he said, opening the file on ‘The Scarecrow’. “There was a lost shipment of chemicals between two ACE chemical plants, and it included a vital component in his fear toxin. With the quantities involved, he’ll be able to make enough fear toxin to dose all of Gotham if he uses it right.”
“More realistically, more like a fifth of Gotham.” Tanya added. Distribution was always the problem.
“He could get up to a third if he gets it in a water treatment plant.” Batman corrected. “-and that assumes that he hasn’t improved the formula again.”
“Any leads on the shipment?” Tanya asked.
“None. It was a professional job, uncharacteristic of Crane. He had help.” That wasn’t nothing, but yeah, not great.
“Any other suspects he could have allied with?” Tanya asked, more to sound out ideas than anything else.
“Bane is at the top of my suspect list, but it’s tenuous.” Batman said, frowning. “Some of the chemicals can be used in Venom, but they’re also the more common ones. Hard to track.” No one but Bane knew the full process of producing Venom, but it was impossible to escape Batman’s notice entirely; they had a full ingredient list on file. “But his men are professional, and robbing chemical shipments would be rather routine to them. Little risk of them mishandling it.” Not to mention the advantages of Bane himself participating. “There are a few other sources of professional thieves...”
There was a subtle shift in the air, Tanya could taste the magic of the world cycling from night to day. “Ah, it’s sunrise.” She said before shifting her stance to stand on Batman’s chair. She gripped his cowl and started to incant: “The Man rules the day while the Bat stalks the bay, the world rises at dawn, so your work will go on.” To cap off the spell, she threw off the cowl, revealing his face, which now looked refreshed and ready to take on the day.
While Bruce made sure not to rely on magical sleep replacement completely, they saw nothing wrong with using it every other day, giving him far more time than was otherwise possible, invaluable for someone living a double life. Pretending he was just hungover was rather unwise after claiming her and adopting Richard. “Ah, thank you, Princess.” Bruce said, without a trace of Batman’s growl. “Come on, I could use a nice bubblebath, and I know how much you like those.” Tanya smiled and wrapped her arms around Bruce’s thick neck, dangling for long enough for him to start supporting her weight with his arms.
That would be a side-effect of the spell. Because it relies on distancing his personae, casting it in the morning gave him the impulse to do Bruce-specific things, which given her presence when he had such an impulse was frequently ‘father-daughter’ things. Tanya didn’t mind; from her perspective the only difference between Bruce and Alfred was that Bruce was more affectionate when playing his role, and she still had enough of a monkey brain to like it. Also, the impulse to act ‘Bruce-like’ lasted for less than an hour, and the missed sleep started to catch back up to him if he resisted the influence. Magic was weird in this world.
At breakfast, Richard seemed more irritated than usual. “What’s wrong, Dick?” Bruce asked, concerned. “It’s still the weekend, you still have another day before you have to go back to school.” Tanya watched the exchange from her position in her customized “high chair”. She was nominally too immature to stay at the table without being physically restrained into her seat.
"Why do you care?” Richard said petulantly. “I’m just going to be stuck in this giant house all day, while that bastard that killed my family is still out there!”
“Ah.” Bruce said, understanding. “You read the newspaper.” Hm. There must have been an article about the Greyson murders.
“They said it was their fault!” Richard shouted angrily. “That Mom and Dad were stupid, that they didn’t check the rope!” He sniffled, stabbing his eggs with his fork. “They checked the rope. I was there.”
Bruce’s demeanor shifted, the characteristically deep anger that created The Batman seething out of him from the set of his shoulders. After a second, the intensity faded, leaving behind only the fop that only cared so much. “I know how that feels.” He said instead of anything more pointed.
“No you don’t.” Richard spat.
“I remember what they wrote.” Bruce said with a touch of heat. “‘Why the Waynes decided to attend that theater, in one of the most crime-riddled neighborhoods in Gotham, beggars belief! They couldn’t have been inviting the criminal element any more if Martha Wayne had been wearing her most famous necklace, appraised at six hundred thousand dollars.’”
Tanya’s eyes widened. Oh. That was… in incredibly bad taste. Maybe she should… do something silly? Cry? It seemed wrong to break the moment…
Richard stared at Bruce, gobsmacked. The tears he had been holding back flowed freely, and he whispered: “Okay, maybe you do.” After a moment, he asked: “What did you do?”
Bruce smiled, tears of emotion escaping his eyes as well. Apparently he still had strong feelings about that article… “I did a lot of things. But… one thing I did was learn karate. Do you want to do that? It’s good for when you feel angry.”
“Yeah… I do.” Richard said, wiping away his tears. “I definitely want to punch something.”
Ah, there’s an opportunity to defuse some tension. “Punch me and I bite you.” Tanya deadpanned.
Both of them laughed.
Comments
Gremlin Jack
There was actually a youtube short on the flaws of a toy like that. Funny stuff.
Dragonin
Nearly actually killed me with the block bit. Tanya doing a runner is definitely a baby/toddler thing to do. Poor Mrs. Cher.
