The Huntress
Aces and Eights
by Benjammin2000
The Beginning
Though Gotham City has its fair share of heroes, it still has crime. The violence of supervillains generally make it on the nightly news. The more mundane criminals show up in the morning news paper.
But, there’s another crime committed in Gotham on a regular basis. Gambling. More specifically, the Derby.
Ah, yes, the Derby. It was legend during the time of the Batman. Now? It’s a myth. But, this myth is real. Very real.
For the past 124 years, on the first Sunday of every month, the Derby is played. What is the Derby? A high stakes poker game. High stakes because of the $20,000 entry fee to each round. Of which there are 12.
Where is it played? Anyplace will do, from the ritziest hotel, to few shacks set up in Slaughter Swamp. Just as long as the Derby is played.
Risks? Of course. Financial ruin is one. And probably the biggest. The other is cheating and being caught. People always wondered why the beasties of Slaughter Swamp don’t attack people. They’re too well fed.
Why, then? Why would any one play with the risks? The winner at the end of the Derby gets ten million dollars. More then enough for a man to live on.
That’s the Derby. The single longest running illegal activity in Gotham. And it’s about to get turned on its ear.
Why? Cause I entered it this year.
Who am I? Name’s Bat.
But, please, call me the Maverick.
Chapter the First
“Son, you’re in way over your head. These past ten months, you did good, but not tonight” The speaker was called Slow-Go. Because he was always slow to go. The man sitting across from him was some twenty-ish nobody. Who just happened to look like he stepped off a Riverboat. Hell, he even had a flower in his hatband. And he called himself the Maverick of all things. Who did this kid think he was? The Gambler?
“Firstly, I will not be called kid, son, junior, half-pint, sawed- off, runt, boy, or any other term of demeaning that reflects my youth. I’m the youngest player, get over it. And secondly, are you sure you got me beat, Pops??” The Maverick replied. Other then the thin smirk on his lips, he showed no emotion.
“Yeah, I’m sure… boy. Straight Flush.” Slow-Go said, laying down his cards. A deuce through six of the diamond suit.
“Damn, that is a very good hand.” Maverick commented. Slow-Go sneered and reached for the chips.
“But, not good enough.” Maverick added, showing his hand with a flourish. A Royal Flush in spades. And with that, the last table still playing, this month’s round was over.
Maverick whistled a tune as his money was counted, then handed to him. It was a good system. Pay $20,000 dollars, get an amount of chips equal to that value. A 25 dollar chip being worth 25 dollars. At the end of the end of the evening, each chip value was worth a quarter. That same 25 chip was then worth 25 quarters. That way, everybody left with money (three folds and you’re out, but you got money like everyone else.) The rest was then added to the pot for the winner. Usually, ten million dollars was total.
“$10,237. Nice take tonight, huh?” the money manager, Abacus (so called because he could do math very, very fast) asked Maverick, giving the card sharp a carpet bag full of said money.
“Yeah. See ya in thirty.” Maverick replied. He was getting closer. In the Derby, you got a point for every thousand dollars won. And he was in the lead by a hundred points. With two months to go. Hell, he even had $40,000 collectively from his winnings. He never won less then $10,000. He’d have to hit the local games to get entry money for the next month, though. But, he has plenty of time to do that.
“Plenty of time, indeed.” Maverick said to himself, as he made his way to the motel he was staying at.
Chapter the Second
The back room of the pool hall was smoky, but that suited the Maverick just fine. It was frightening, how he could take five thousand and turn it into twenty in one night. He had nearly half a million just from gambling in the regular dens.
“Just youse an’ me, kid. An’ I got youse all figured out. Youse been playin’ me for a fool.” The man was big and brawny, but could play one hell of a game of cards. That’s why they called him Ace.
“Have you now? Who’s to say that I haven’t been leading you to that assumption?” Maverick stated his question, which caused Ace to raise an eyebrow.
“Huh?”
“I could’ve been bluffing because I need to. Or I did it to give you a false sense of security. And now that I know that you know I may be bluffing, I can’t loose.”
“Screw it, I fold.” Ace said.
“Good thing. I had crap.” Maverick said, placing down his hand. He had a pair of Deuces. You could almost hear the blood boil in Ace. But, Maverick didn’t cheat, so there was nothing that he could do.
With that, the night was over and the Maverick had more money then when he came.
While this illicit monetary transaction was happening, someone was taking great interest in it.
“Gambling dens. I hate gambling dens.” The Huntress said to herself. Whereas crimes like robbery and murder were savage beasts that attacked the city, gambling was a cancer that ate it from the inside out. Buried deep and far reaching.
“Time for some symptom relief.” The Huntress said grimly. That’s all she was doing, relieving the symptoms, not curing the problem.
“$20,000. Almost makes me sick how good you are.” The money man said to the Maverick.
“Well, fortune, luck, and chance favor those who take risks.” Maverick replied.
It was at this time that the Huntress crashed the party. And everything went wonky.
“Time for me to make my daring escape.” Maverick said, grabbing his carpet bag. He figured that the goons that guard the place would be enough of a distraction for him to escape.
Unfortunately, the goons never faced anyone more challenging then a disgruntled drunk. The Maverick was almost to the door when he was stopped by a crossbow bolt.
“That’s a little too close for my comfort.” Maverick said, staring at the bolt near his feet.
The Huntress had to admit that the man was dressed oddly. He look like he’d fit better in a New Orleans saloon or a riverboat on the Mississippi.
“You going to give up? Or will I have to convince you?” Huntress asked, loading a new bolt into the crossbow.
“That’s a very good question. Name’s Bat Lash. Now, you can call me Maverick. Oh, and I see your crossbow and raise you a derringer.” Maverick said.
SKLATCH!
The fore mentioned revolver appeared in his hand from up his sleeve.
“I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if I need to.” Maverick added.
“Looks like we got a little stand off, then.” Huntress said.
“Not really. You gotta worry about Ace of Clubs right there.” Maverick said. The Huntress wouldn’t fall for that trick under any circumstance.
She didn’t figure that the man would tell the truth. When she had the thug subdued, Maverick was gone, only the flower that was in his hat band remained.
“Some how, I think we’ll meet again, Bat Lash.” Huntress said, picking up the daisy.
Special Interlude by Guest Writer Immortal Wildcat!!!
A low rumble echoed throughout the cavern, but the raven-haired woman did not look up from the computer screen. As a sleek, dark red car pulled into its spot, the sound echoed off into a relative silence that was broken only by the sound of heated metal cooling and the hiss of two hydraulic doors.
“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight, Helena. Everything all right?” Red Robin pulled the cowl off his face and smiled at the woman who was, for all intents and purposes, his kid sister. Behind him, the young hero called Batwing pulled a fuel hose from its place and started filling the tank of the Redbird.
“Oh, hi Dick. Heya, Jason.” Helena Wayne looked up from the terminal and rubbed her eyes with her palms. “I thought I might have better luck with the computerized records you have here than the books at the Brownstone.”
“Have a run-in with one of the JSA’s bad guys, Hel?” called Batwing.
“Not quite, though I think he might be related to one or two guys the JSA met. You remember that case the Society had with the League, when we met up with a bunch of heroes from the past?”
“I heard about it, sure. A Viking, a World War II fighter pilot, a couple of gunslingers from the old west, and a few others, right?”
“That’s the one, and one of those gun slingers went by the name of Bat Lash. Tonight, I broke up a gambling den, and there was some clown dressed up like an old-western gambler, and he gave the name of Bat Lash. Looked and acted like he could be working with the Gambler, though.”
Dick Grayson seemed amused. “Of all the villains to hook up with, this guy has picked a real loser. Don’t tell me this guy gave you a real fight?”
“Not really. He managed to get the drop on me with a hidden derringer, then I had to take care of one of the other players who I thought I’d knocked out. When I was finished with that, this Maverick was gone.”
“Did you say Maverick?” asked Jason “Batwing” Todd, now finished with the re-fueling and coming over to join the older pair. He continued in a western drawl. “Ah’ll see that there knife, son.”
“And raise you a derringer.” finished Dick. Both of them raised their left hand, and together said “SHAACKT!”
“What the-?” asked Helena, looking from one to the other.
“Come on, Hel. The Maverick! That was part of the schtick!”
“What schtick?”
“On the radio.” Jason dashed over to a console near the workout area of the Bat-cave, then came back with a box of cassette tapes. “Dick got me into these old radio shows. Maverick was a popular one from the late forties. Matt Maverick, a gambler with a heart of gold in the old west.”
“And if he’s our world’s version of that Bat Lash that the JSA met, or a descendant of our version, he’s got the old west ties to go with the character.” Dick leaned over the keyboard and started typing. “I don’t know if it will help, but I have all of the US Census data in here since 1890. You can see if there’s was a Bat Lash living anywhere in the country, or at least in the areas where the Census was complete.”
“OK, I’ll check that while you two go up and get changed. I’m sure Sonia is driving Alfred to distraction by now.”
As Jason headed up the stairs to Wayne Manor, Dick stayed behind. “How’s the adoption process going?”
“I’m not sure,” replied Helena as she studied the screen. “I know I have everything in order, but the judge seems to be stalling.” She looked up at the older man. “I wonder though, am I doing the right thing? Adopting her, that is?”
Dick laid a hand on her shoulder. “Helena, Sonia has no family to call her own. She’s just like I was when my parents died, all alone. I think it’s becoming something of a family tradition, taking in orphans.”
“I think you’re right, Dick. And she’s a good kid, strong, smart. She’s already asking questions about the work we do, so I think she’ll want me to start training her. Think the world is ready for another member of the ‘Bat-family’?”
“I know it is.”
Chapter the Third
“Ms. Wayne, I found that book you were looking for.” One of the Librarian assistants said. Helena couldn’t find much on Bat Lash, but there was info in spades on Barthalomeul Lash.
“Thanks.” Helena said to the young man, taking the rather heavy book. This was going to be a looong night.
Of course, the book wasn’t just about Bat Lash, it chronicled several heroes of the West. Johnny Thunder, Night Hawk, Scalphunter, and the more mundane ones, such as Doc Holliday, Wyatt Earp, Buffalo Bill Cody.
And it had some good info on Bat Lash.
Unfortunately, it was nothing that Helena could use. Though, it did say he was last seen in Shanghai in the 1920′s. Or so says the account of the WWI German Ace, Hans Von Hammer.
In his motel room, Maverick was readying himself for the night’s festivities. Currently, he was wearing his trousers and an undershirt. He was adjusting his spring sleeve, as well.
“The Odessa’s are having a game tonight. Wonder if they’ll let me play?” Maverick asked himself as he finished his adjustments and reached for his ruffled shirt.
It didn’t take the Huntress long to discover the pattern of the Maverick’s appearances.
That’s why she was across the street from the Kiev Delicatessen. A known Odessa facility.
“Right on time.” The Huntress said to herself. She spotted the Maverick, bag in hand and flower in band.
The Huntress usually wasn’t impulsive, but Maverick embarrassed her. He tricked her by not tricking her. It was complicated, yes, but she didn’t like it. Not at all.
Maverick noticed the small sound, the pok. He moved his hat higher up his head as he looked up and saw the black line.
“That can’t be good.” Maverick said, commenting on the line. A small zipping sound confirmed his suspicions.
“Well, nice to see you again. Knew I was irresistible.” Maverick said. Almost immediately, a crossbow bolt hit his right fore arm. On the inside. He flicked his wrist. Nothing.
“How the hell did you know that?” Maverick asked. The bolt somehow jammed itself into the mechanism.
“I did my research. All spring sleeves have something in common. The lever that releases the spring.” The Huntress said with a smirk.
“Really?” Maverick asked, grabbing the bolt and pulling. Nothing. He adjusted his grip and pulled again. Nothing. It was jammed in good.
“Really.” Huntress replied. Of course, during this exchange of bluffs, Murphy decided to play his hand. In the form of a large Odessan enforcer named Boris.
Boris yelled in Russian. Maverick turned to the Huntress.
“What he say?”
“He said that you led me to here.”
“Oh.”
With a roar, Boris charged the two. The Huntress, being the more athletic of the two, leapt over the Russian.
Maverick wasn’t as capable of doing so and took the hit. Quite heavily to be truthful.
“OK, Mr. Mack Truck, you wanna throw down, you got one!” Maverick exclaimed, rolling to his feet. True, he didn’t have access to his pistol (nor was he carrying his belly gun), but he wasn’t without arms.
See, Maverick had two rigs. One for his derringer on his right arm and one on his left. This one carried five playing cards. Five razor edge playing cards. It wasn’t a unique gimmick, but it would work. Hopefully.
He drew out a card and twirled it in his fingers. Boris was pushing the offensive against the Huntress.
“Hey, Mr. Mack Truck! Pick a card!” Maverick yelled, throwing the card. The way Boris turned caused the card to slice against his chest.
The scream echoed throughout the Russian Neighborhood. Which attracted Boris’ colleagues.
Three men dressed in sharp suits stepped out of the Kiev Delicatessen.
All brandishing Mikhail Klashinov’s brain child.
“Ahhh, damn…..”
Chapter the Fourth
There are some situations that causes time to slow down. Where everything but the one who experiences it nearly stops. For Barthalomeul Lash the Third, this was one of those times.
He found the strength to pick up the Huntress and carry her away. It was kinda creepy to see the bullets actually move through the air slowly. Or how everything was muted.
He placed the Huntress down in an alley a good distance away and everything went back to normal.
“What the hell just happened?” Huntress asked. Not even a minute ago was she looking down the barrels of automatic weapons.
“I did. And I didn’t have to. I can’t show my face now in Little Russia. You know how many games I’ll miss?” Maverick said. He was quite upset.
Huntress was still seeing twins, courtesy of Boris. Thus, there was little she could do to stop Maverick from walking off.
Well, she did curse him.
And she was going to re-double her efforts in catching him.
A criminal.
Who saved her.
The Daughter of the Bat.
That was almost unforgivable.
Maverick wasn’t really concerned with all this, in his hotel room. He always fell for a pretty face, young or old.
No, what he was concerned with was his skill with a needle.
The Huntress put a hole in a thousand dollar suit jacket and a three hundred dollar shirt. And his favorite one at that.
But, he couldn’t hold it against her.
A pretty face, young or old, tended to do that to him.
Chapter the Fifth
Helena Wayne wondered how she looked sitting in the library reading a book on card playing.
“That’s a very good book. I highly recommend it.” Helena looked over the top of the book and saw him. Bat Lash. Dressed up in that ridiculous outfit of his.
“That’s what the librarian said. I decided that I needed a hobby.” In actuality, she had decided she needed to understand Maverick better.
“Well, if you want to learn, I’m happy to teach you. Right now, in fact.” Bat said, sitting down and taking out a deck of cards.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I insist.” Bat then quickly shuffled the deck seven times.
“Now, this game is five card poker. I like to call it Aces and Eights. Those cards are wild, you see. And it’s full double drop. You can give up to five cards. Twice.” Bat added, dealing the cards.
“Obviously.”
“Well, then you know the hands?”
“As told by Hoyle.”
“Perfect. So, how many cards do you take?”
“Three.”
“And I take two. You want more?”
“I’m good.”
“Now comes the hard part. Poker is 5% luck, 5% skill, and 90% psycho-mentallagy. Or, that’s what Granddaddy said.” Bat said with a grin. He then placed his card face down on the table. Helena raised an eye brow to that.
“All part of the bluff.” Was Bat’s reply.
And the lesson continued for a few hours. As the two played, Bat made jokes, about himself, and told some stories, while Helena told him about herself. What she did, who she was, and such.
The lesson ended only when the library kicked them out at closing.
“I really enjoyed this. And, I’d like to do it again. If you’d like.” Bat said, walking alongside Helena.
“Mr. Lash, are you asking me out on a date?”
“Why, Ms. Wayne, I surely am.”
“I’d be delighted to.” It wasn’t that much of a lie. The rogue was starting to grow on her. If just a little. And she did enjoy the last few hours, all things considered.
“Meet me here then, tomorrow night. I’ll buy you the best dinner in town.”
“I’ll be here then.”
Chapter the Sixth
“So, Bat, where are you taking me?” It had been two or so weeks since that meeting in the Library, and the two had gone on a few dates. This would be one of them, actually. Helena was wearing a red dress that matched nicely with Bat’s suit. Of course, she had also hidden her Huntress costume in the clothing, just in case.
“Somewhere special.” Bat said. The two were in the nicer part of town and came up to a rather ritzy hotel. After some time, they entered a room.
Helena was shocked at what she saw.
10 table that could each seat five people were set up. There had to be at least seventy people in the room.
“Now that the final player has arrived, let the Derby begin!” The speaker was an older gentleman. With that, people took their seats.
It took some time, but Helena finally recognized what the man said and remembered something from long ago. For school, she had to do a paper on the Urban Legends of Gotham.
She chose the Derby, a poker tournament dating back to the Civil War.
She got a C plus on it.
And the night wore on. Money changed hands on the draw of a card. People of all cultures and walks of life played.
Ten tables went down to five. And five became one. Before the round was to start, Helena got to talk to Bat.
“You didn’t tell me this was where you’d take me!” Helena whispered, it was almost a hiss. But, this was not what she planned. She had just stumbled onto the largest and longest running illegal activity in Gotham. It was quite a shock.
“Don’t worry ‘Lena. We aren’t doing anything… too… illegal. Besides, I’m in the lead and I got you on my side.” Bat replied.
“A few lessons in the library and a few dates doesn’t place me on you side, Bat.”
“You came with me, didn’t you? And don’t worry, ‘Lena. What’s the worst that can happen?”
As if to contradict him, a noise erupted from outside. Soon after, several men came in. Several well armed men. And one other.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am Steven Sharpe. And I am disappointed that I wasn’t invited.” This man was dressed similar to Bat, though his choice of color was bright and he wore a slouch hat. Not to mention his white hair and goatee.
This was a villain known to fight Green Lantern.
This was a villain known to be a member of the Injustice Society of the World.
This was the Gambler.
Chapter the Seventh
“The Gambler.” Bat shifted into his Maverick personality. Which was just like himself, but much more steely.
“The Maverick. Fancy seeing you here.” The Gambler replied.
“Looking pretty good for a crazy vagrant wandering Las Vegas.”
“No thanks to you.” The Gambler’s voice was pure venom.
“Had I known that your psyche would snap like a fragile twig, I would have lost. Question: Have you been spending the last year and a half tracking me down?” Maverick asked.
“Only the last three months. Took me some time to regain my sanity. A long hard time to regain my sanity.”
***FLASHBACK***
“Oooffmph!” Those ruffians at the casino tossed him out. Him! The Gambler! And, yet, they let that skinny kid with the glasses in. He got up and dusted himself off.
“You buffoons!!!” I AM the Gambler! I will have my games!” The Gambler yelled, shaking his fist at the building. He then stuck his hands in his pockets and walked away.
“I’m the Gambler. The Gambler.” Of course, that’s all he knew about himself. That he was called the Gambler. Everything else was like a treasure locked in a vault. He knew it was there, just not what it was. Or how to get it.
Several months later found a deeply disturbed man calling himself the Gambler in the Las Vegas Homeless Shelter.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” The voice was everywhere; and, judging by the acoustics, seemed to originate somewhere from inside the Gambler’s head.
“Who’s there? Show yourself!” The Gambler tried to hide his emotions, but wasn’t doing so well.
“You are, you twit.” With that, someone looking like the Gambler appeared, though he was more calm and controlled. And better dressed, as well.
“Or, at least the part of you that was banished to the far corners of our mind.”
“Huh?”
“Just take my hand and all should be revealed.” The Gambler did so, albeit reluctantly. His ghostly self vanished, as soon as he did.
“Maverick…” For the first time for a long time, Steven Sharpe spoke.
***END FLASHBACK***
“An old ally of mine, William Zard, speculated what had happened. When my personality was banished into my subconscious, my strong will to win would not let that be my fate. Under similar circumstances, the same would probably happen to Lawrence Crock.”
“Nice to know that you boys are so insane that you don’t stay crazy. Now, we gonna settle this as they did in the period of our dress or in the way of our profession?” Maverick asked.
“Neither. I invoke a Gambler’s Duel!” There was a gasp from nearly everyone in the room.
“A Gambler’s Duel? One hasn’t been invoked in nearly a hundred years. And that was to end the Great Guild Wars!” The man who spoke, was known as the Dealer. A title held by the organizer of the Derby.
“I accept. As a member of the Dame Fortune Society.” The Maverick was unfazed by this show a bravado from the Gambler, a smug grin forming on his lips.
“Dame Fortune, hmmmm? Heh. I’ll crush you. I’m a Jack in the House of Cards.” The Gambler replied with a chuckle.
To Helena, an observer, this was a bunch of gibberish. The Dealer noticed this and approached her.
“I take that you are not a True follower of Hoyle?” The Dealer asked. Helena shook her head.
“It’s complicated to explain to a non-gamester, but I’ll try. The Gambler’s Duel is the single most stressful poker game ever developed. The players put everything at stake. Their honor. Their fortunes. Their reputation. Sometimes their life. And, in the odd circumstance, sometimes their soul. The founder of the Dame Fortune Society, Enoch Shaw, last used it to end the Great Guild Wars. Hasn’t been used since, the risks being too great.
“Right now, they’re staring each other down for that single hand. This could take a while, so I suggest that you take a seat, ma’am. Madame? Where’d she go? She was here just a moment ago.” Helena had sneaked off while the Dealer was talking. She understood what was going to happen. And she couldn’t allow that to happen. Also, from what she knew about the Gambler, Bat was going to need all the help he could get.
Chapter the Eighth
The Gambler and the Maverick had been bluffing each other for the last half hour. They went through complex, almost ritualistic motions. As if at one point, there was magic involved in them, but it had died out long ago. And, the steely glares that they gave each other, if focused through glass, would give Superman’s thermal vision a run for its money.
Until…
“I call.” The voice of the Gambler could be heard in every corner of the room. His hand was a Four Pair, Kings.
Dejectedly, the Maverick laid down his hand. Aces over Eights.
“How appropriate. The Dead Man’s Hand.” The Gambler said, his derringer in hand. Just as he pulled the trigger, a blunt crossbow bolt hit his hand.
The Maverick was still hit (and the shock caused him to ‘revert’ back to Bat Lash). But, it was in his side, not his gut.
And the Huntress made herself known.
As did the cards the Gambler had up his sleeve.
Vinco tu Potens. Amitto tu Indiego. Quod Semper Circumvenio! Which means: Win if you can. Lose if you must. But, always cheat! The great gambler Gregori Krimevich, the founder of the House of Cards, was said to have said that at least once in his life. And that set off the Dealer.
“That… that is direct violation to every rule we hold sacred!!! You, Steven Sharpe have no honor!!” With that being said, the gamesters, men and women, all drew their Fifth Ace. For some, if was a derringer, a small caliber pistol. For others, it was a large knife, such as a Bowie or a Dirk. And there were those few that carried a belly gun, a revolver that had all but the last quarter inch of the barrel sawed off.
And they took on the Gambler’s goons.
The Huntress noticed that both the Gambler and Bat were gone. But, there was, unfortunately, a trail of blood for her to follow.
When she came to where the trail ended, she found Bat Lash, clutching his side and firing into the shadows.
“I lost him.” Bat said, lowering his belly gun.
“We need to get you to a hospital, that wound looks serious.” Huntress said.
“Oh? Isn’t catching the Gambler more important?” Bat asked. The Huntr- no, Helena, bit her lip as she shook her head.
“As much as it pains me to admit this, no. Right now, nothing is more important.” Helena replied. Bat walked up to her and leaned against the heroine.
“And you said you weren’t on my side. Heh.” Helena was too shocked to reply, but she was going to inquire. Later. There was more important things to do. Like helping Bat get to a hospital.
And, in that back room, the Gambler’s goons were unconscious and trussed up, ready for the cops.
Also, there was no sign of the Derby. Save for a single daisy.
The Conclusion
Bat Lash hated hospitals. Really, he did. Nothing against the doctors. Or the nurses (‘specially the nurses). Or the food.
It was just boring.
Which was why he was tossing cards into a bed pan propped up on a chair.
It was then that he heard a knock the door.
“C’m in.” Bat said, somewhat morosely. Of course, the visits were nice. They were very nice. Even though it was the same person.
“Hey, Bat. How are ya?” Helena said, when she came in, carrying a box under her arm.
“Fine. For a guy who got shot three days ago. What’s that under your arm?” Bat replied. Helena set the box on a table, then sat down on a chair by the bed.
“It’s an old radio program that I’m borrowing from my nephew. Thought you might like it. It’s called the Maverick.” Helena said.
“The Maverick? Granddaddy did work on that.” Bat said, almost in a reminisce.
“Oh? That must be an interesting story.” Helena asked.
“It is. Granddaddy, the first man named Bat Lash, lived in Shanghai for twenty eight years. After he had some adventure on an ‘Isle of Dragons’ and sword fought some joker named ‘Vandal Savage’, he decided that though he liked China and all, it’s was gettin’ too hot. So, he takes his ‘wife’ (I’m 1/16th Chinese, don’t you know) and they move to New York. During that time, he took a job doing a radio serial. The Maverick, to be more precise. Well, in the late forties, he actually had a family. Interesting what can happen living with someone for nearly ten years can do. Unfortunately, Granddaddy died before Daddy was three years old. Eventually, Ma comes around, meets Daddy, and then has me some time after that. Barthalomeul Lash the Third. That’s the Cliff Notes version of my life story. Hope it was to your liking.” Bat explained. Helena nodded. And she took this time to ask what had been on her mind since that night.
“How did you know?” Helena asked. Bat sighed.
“You don’t play poker as long as I have and not pick up a few things. Your eyes. That was what I noticed. Even though you have those blank out lenses, you held them the same way. That’s how.” Bat replied.
“Hmmm… I’ll have to remember that.” Helena replied.
“BTW, I like it here. Gotham is a nice city. I’ll need a place to crash.” Bat said, with just hint of a smirk.
“I’ll… think about it.” Helena replied, her own forming on her lips.
The End
