Subject: [OTL]: Morning in America [6/6] [Jason Todd / YJ] Date: Wed, 24 Nov 1999 08:28:54 -0800 (PST) From: D Benway Morning In America [6/6] The Man Who Walked Away Dr. Benway is responsible for this. ******************************************************************** This story consists of some of my worst nightmares, centered on some characters that are borrowed from DC Comics. The story is extremely violent and unpleasant, and is intended for mature readers. Continuity note: This only makes sense if you read the previous parts. Many thanks to Kaylee for proof-reading, and to Luba for archiving. ******************************************************************** The hall is spotless and smells like PineSol. My apartment still stinks of dog guts and meta blood. Lump's still gone. I pick up some things, get changed, lose the suit. I'm back in the clothes I wear when I'm on patrol. I've still got the car. I drive it to the address on the paper Cassie gave me. They have ice-boxes there. They're more effective than plastic bags. I fuck around with dry ice in the back for a while. The staff wait outside. My ID's still good for something. When I'm done, I call the Bat. He'll be so glad to see you, says Drake. I drive across the bridge to the Island, then up into the Heights. I haven't been up here since That Day. There've been some changes, like the pillboxes at the gate and the anti-tank traps, but once I'm beyond them, nothing's different. Bruce's great-grandfather lost all the money he had on railroads, Alfred told me once. Bruce's grandfather made it all back by selling heroin. It was legal back then. In some of the old places on the Dockside, you can still find bottles of Wayne's Tincture of Opium. Alfred said he built the house to show he'd come back. Bruce's dad didn't want to be like his father, so he put money into real drugs and car parts. Bruce hates the place. It's so fucking big. I bring the box with me into the house. There's another checkpoint. They open the box. It raises some eyebrows, but they give it back to me and let me in. I'm told he's in the main dining room. It's cleaner, now. There's servants everywhere. All the lights are on, even though its four in the afternoon. If they weren't you'd need a flashlight to find you're way around. Seems Bruce's grandfather didn't go for big windows. I stop at the doors of the dining room. I could turn and leave. I could take the box and put it in the freezer. I will, after I speak to Bruce. I open the door. It's like I remember it, almost. Same old table, 150 feet long and 6 inches thick. Same chandelier, but brighter lights. There's a fire in the fireplace. They must have done something to it, because it didn't use to work. By the fireplace, there's a small table and a chair. Drake's sitting in it. He's feeding a meal to a man in a wheelchair. For a moment, I think he's lied to me about Alfred being dead. Only for a moment. It's fucking Bruce. He's old. He's lost his hair. He's strapped into the chair. His bones are still big, but nothing else is any more. He's staring at the spoon that Drake is putting into his mouth. He goes a bit cross-eyed, watching it go in. Hello, Jason, says Drake. What the fuck happened? I say. He got old, says Drake. Can he speak? I say. No, says Drake. He had a stroke. It killed his mind. Who was your first? I asked Bart. Bruce Wayne, he said. But he was on TV last week, I say. Computer graphics, says Drake. I'm surprised you hadn't figured this all out earlier. How long? I ask. Twelve years next month, he says. So it's been you all along, I say. Not just him, says Cissie, entering. She's not fat. She looks younger than she did on That Day. I understand you've seen Cassie, she says. How is she? I've died and gone to hell. She's fine, I say. Oh good, she says. Drake doesn't look up. He just keeps feeding Bruce. We've got something that belongs to you, she says, smiling coyly. I'll go and get it. She leaves the room. Drake's sitting there, with the spoon frozen in space in front of Bruce's face. Bruce is kind of nodding forward trying to get it. Drake sweeps the bowl of the table and hurls it at me. I duck just in time. He's on me, hauling me up by my jacket. The box falls out of my lap onto the floor. It stays closed. You shit, he hisses. I never wanted any of this. He wanted you, not me. If it had been you, none of this would have happened. I'd have had her instead of you. Tim, Cissie says. He puts me down. I pick up the box and put it back in my lap. I look up and I can't breathe. She's brought Lump with her. It's wearing a dress that looks expensive. Steph's been staying with us since your little disagreement, says Cissie. Hi, says Lump. I've been having fun. You came here? I say. Steph is a frequent guest, says Cissie, smiling at me. I thought it went to a shelter. Why the fuck didn't I ever follow up on this? I was watching George Carlin tapes, says Lump. Wanna hear a joke? No, I say. I stare at Bruce. He's sitting there with his mouth open, staring at the food. Why don't you change Bruce and put him to bed? says Cissie. Drake nods and puts the food away. Bruce starts weeping. I look away and catch Lump's eye. It smiles at me. I feel sick again. Cissie picks up a VR set and hands it to Lump. Steph dear, she says. I've got Eddie Murphy on this one. Lump's face lights up, and it fumbles the VR unit onto its head. Cissie sets the controls and sits Lump back in the chair. Lump begins chuckling to itself. Cissie turns walks across the room. I put the box down and follow her to the other end of the table. We stand beside the window, looking out onto the croquet lawn. This is all quite a shock to you, isn't it? she says. How deep does it go? I ask. Have you ever heard of a Potemkin village? she asks. No, I say. A Russian noble named Potemkin wanted to impress his empress, she says. He built a magic kingdom for her in a place called Crimea and took her there. He showed her prosperous villages, thriving markets, beautiful palaces. When they returned to Moscow, he was showered in riches. The palaces were made of paper mache, the food and the happy peasants were shipped ahead of the royal party in fast carriages and barges. I don't get it, I say. Gotham is a Potemkin village, she says. It's ours. It's the richest city in the country, I say. It's the last place we make things. It looks that way, doesn't it, she says. How many of your Docksider friends make things? Bruce had me tutored while I was here. It's just like that all over again, except for the head in the box. I think. I know auxiliaries, I know cooks, I know cleaners, I know Town guards, I know people who unload ships. People on the Island make things, I say. She snorts. People on the Island wouldn't know what a factory looked like if they saw one, she says. We haven't been able to make things here for ages. All the people who knew how to left for Europe and Asia and Canada after the last recession. You make software, I say. In India, she says. And China. Then what pays for this? I ask. The hotels, she says. But then you knew that, didn't you? I guess I did. All we can make is dreams, she says. We can still make those. We're starting to make real things again. We've got engineers coming back. They're drawn by the hotels. We've re-opened a factory to make guns, and we've an attack helicopter on the drawing board. Bruce wouldn't have let you, I say. I don't suppose he would have, she says. You had him killed, I say. Don't talk shit, she says. He had a stroke from overwork, trying to solve Dick's murder when it was so obviously a suicide. Dick Grayson, said Bart. Barbara Gordon. Her father. What do you want with me? I ask. I want you to come and live here with Stephanie, she says. You're fucking kidding, I say. Bruce wanted you as his successor, not Tim, she says. You learn quickly. We need people we can trust. You're a member of this family. You've used that to your advantage many times before. Fuck off, I say. I'm going to be straight with you, she says. I need a hard man by my side. A hard man, I say. This is all Tim's scheme, she says. He thought up the hotels, he's planned the rise of this city, but I executed his plan. He doesn't have my strength. When something needs doing, he'll put it off. He'll spend all his time with Bruce, talking to him, playing music for him, showing him old films. It takes such an effort to get him to do anything, and Bullock knows it. Bullock has to go, and I need you to watch over MacNamara. Shit, I say. We've got a problem with the Towns, she says. One million on the Island, one million in the Docks, and ten million in the Towns. Latest estimates are for 20 million in five years. If you go up in a helicopter, you can see them walking here along the old interstate. Queue goes back ten miles some days. We can't feed them. Ten million? I say. We were thinking that you might be able to organize some labour-intensive agriculture, she says. Have them drain the swamps next Spring. Me? I say. If you bring Steph here, it will do the world of good for her, she says. It will be wonderful for Tim, too. Why? I say. Why would anyone want Lump? She was his first love, she says. He calls out her name sometimes when we're fucking. He needs someone else to look after. Someone he can talk to, and who'll talk back. Besides, it'll take her off your hands. You hate her so much, you should welcome it. Lump is mine. That's fucked, I say. You expect me to give him my wife for rent? It's more of a trade, she says. You get me in bed. She smiles. I get hard. She takes my hand and places it on her breast, then runs it down to her waist. She's fucking red hot. You, I say. Me, she says. Tim is sterile. Something that bitch Iseley did to him. Bruce too. You're not sterile and neither am I. How do you know, I say. Steph's been here to have two abortions, she says. Two abortions? She aborted _my_ children? There's more to her than you think, she says. Did you know that she was almost one of us? I couldn't allow that, of course. You're fucking nuts, I say. A door opens behind me. Drake comes in, and give me one of those smiles. You're wife wants me to come and live here so I can get her pregnant, I say. She wants me to take over the auxiliaries and have Bullock killed. Yeah, he says. Will you do it? I sit down in a chair. It's either that or collapse. This is fucking insane, I say. That's funny coming from a man who's brought me a head in a box, says Drake. You want me to replace Allen, I say. No, says Cissie. That's the last thing we want. Drake looks at me, his eyes filled with concern. Bart was a mistake, he says. We asked too much of him. Was it too much for Cassie, too? I ask. Drake looks away. She was in with us from the beginning, says Cissie. I don't believe you, I say. We didn't tell her everything, says Drake, That was a mistake. If you join us, you'll be in on it all. But what happened to her? I ask. She found herself in conflict with us, but we forced her to compromise, says Cissie. Like you did with Kon? I say. That was much more successful, says Drake. He's playing his role perfectly, says Cissie. Cassie couldn't do it. She got into drugs, in a very traditional way. Started sharing needles. So fucking what? I say. We cured that shit years ago. Her power, says Drake. The vaccine didn't work because of her power. She didn't know. She went to Olympus and they all caught it. They all died within a month. I start to weep. I can't stop myself. Cissie looks at Drake. Drake looks out of the window. What happened to that chick Bruce was going to marry? I ask. He had to kill her, says Drake. He made me help. I don't care if it's the truth. I don't care if it's a lie. Do you remember that day, I say. The day he got engaged? The day they brought me here, and I spent the day with you. No, says Drake. Oh sure you do, says Cissie. We had strawberry ice cream and Jason told us all about himself. Oh yeah, says Drake. He's looking out the window again. I look at my watch. If my calculations are right, I have ten minutes to get the box into a freezer or to get to get the fuck out of here. Tim, I say. Does it have to be this way? Yes, he says. If you and Steph want to see Christmas. I could take you down, I say. I think I've just killed myself. Drake laughs. I heard a laugh like that before, when that pasty-face fucker was bashing my mom's head in with a hammer. Who're you going to tell? he says. Bullock would shoot you dead on the spot. We own the net, we know what comes off every press. We listen to every phone in the city. People say worse than that about us. Even if they did believe you, what makes you think they'd care? This is it. This the only game left. They all want to live in the Magic Kingdom, says Cissie. That's what they want and we give it to them. I wish they'd wanted something better, says Drake. I just want to get the fuck out of here. I have to think about this, I say. Twenty-four hours, Cissie says. Yeah, says Drake. I get up. I walk back to Lump. I rip the VR set off its head. I was watching that, it says. We have to go, I say. You could stay for dinner, says Drake. We're having veal. Let's, says Lump. They let me have Kraft Dinner every night I've been here. We have to go, I say. It looks like it's going to start blubbering, but it looks over to Cissie, who smiles and winks. It smiles back. We'll do lunch tomorrow, says Drake. My office. Whatever, I say. I take a last look at the box. It might be bulging, or it might just be me being paranoid. We're out of that room, down the stairs, through the checkpoint, into the car. We're driving down the road, and I almost hit a deer because I keep staring into the rear-view mirror. I pass through the outer gate and gun the engine. They were nice, says Lump. I stop the car. Lump hits its head on the dashboard. They wanted me to fuck Cissie and make her pregnant, I say. She wanted me to give you to Tim as a pet. So what? it says. He'd treat me better than you do. I reach down and pick up the jack handle I put down the side of the seat. Out, I say. It gets out. How'm I gonna get home? it asks. I don't fucking care, I say, and slam the door. I drive off. As I accelerate, I think maybe I hear glass breaking from up the hill. I look in the rear-view mirror, back up towards the house. I pull over. Lump is still standing on the shoulder, a hundred yards behind. I can see the outline of the house at the top of the ridge. No smoke, no funny lights. I should have stayed and made sure. I took him the head of Bart Allen. I kept it frozen with a block of dry ice. The guards at the gate could see that I was a smart little Docksider. They didn't look at the dry ice too carefully. There wasn't a bomb in it, that would have showed up on their detectors. There was something in there though, a little cloud who once kissed me, a little cloud that someone flash-froze because she got in the way. The most powerful and deadly of them all from what I was told. She'll have thawed by now. She'll take them to that special place of hers. Who cares if she takes Bruce, he's beyond caring. If he's still in there, I think he'll welcome it. Maybe she'll take the whole fucking city to hell. I'd still expect to see something, though. As I watch, I wonder if the first thing she'll see when she wakes up is her old friends. Maybe she'll be happy to see them. Maybe they'll give her a job. Maybe her first job'll be me. I look through the front window. The sun's setting over Gotham. I look through the rear-view and see Lump trotting up to the car. I close my eyes. It raps on the window. I open the door. Neither of us say anything to each other as we drive back to our home. FIN *********************************************************** This was written while under the influence of KMFDM, The Housemartins, and The Beautiful South.