It's a Graves thing (soundofwings) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-09-18 19:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | alfred pennyworth, catwoman, door: dc comics, iron man |
Who: Selina, Alfred, and Tony
What: Taking care of Kitty, looking for an antidote
Where: Batcave!
When: Post-Night of a Thousand Villains in Gotham
Warnings/Rating: ...no?
Selina wasn't a very good patient, and she didn't do well being ill. Like any sick cat, she preferred to be left alone to lick her wounds, and she hated people being around when she wasn't at her best. She understood that feline desire to find somewhere cool and quiet, to hide from prying eyes. When she wasn't at her best, her walls were harder to keep in place, and her claws couldn't strike true. She felt vulnerable, and she felt weak, and it made her impossible in a way even she couldn't stand.
She'd stayed in the cave after she'd woken to find the Bat absent. She could have insisted on crawling into a soft bed in the manor, but she preferred the makeshift triage in the cave. It was quiet, off to the side, and she wasn't worried about being bothered. She knew from the IV stand beside her bed that she'd received blood, and the needle in her arm must have been administering antibiotics and fluids. The bandage at her side, beneath the newfound, yet practical gray shirt that reached to her thighs, covered stinging skin that pulled tight from stitches. And yet none of that explained the uncomfortably woozy feeling in her head.
Selina swung her bare legs off the side of the medical bed, and she had to think long and hard about putting her bare toes on the floor. It was then that she heard movement, and her head jerked up in anticipation. Without the cowl and the suit, she looked undeniably young, her short black hair falling into her bright green eyes, and her skin devoid of anything but pallor.
Alfred had been aware that Bruce was planning on bringing the injured back to the Manor, and had made the appropriate accommodations for it: the small triage area was over-stocked with supplies even before Gotham had descended into chaos. It was far easier to over-prepare well ahead of time. So by the time Selina was brought in, (almost) everything needed to treat her was right there. He suspected, even not knowing her, that much like Bruce, it would be difficult for her to allow herself the time and space to truly heal, so he did his best to only venture to the cave when he knew her to be asleep.
It was well after lunch, food prepared for the rest of the family to scavenge on their way through the kitchen, when Alfred decided to descend into the cave, elevator taking him down into the gloom. He carried a tray, the same ones he had shown Lois, the same ones he used to take things to Bruce. It was piled with several metal containers, plates that were each covered by a metal lid, a carafe of water, and an empty glass. His steps were quiet and steady enough as he crossed from the elevator to the medical area, but the elevator was less than silent most days. Even so, he hadn’t been expecting to find Selina awake, sitting, and obviously about to stand. His stride paused only slightly when he caught green eyes staring at him, continuing along his path until he was able to set the tray on a nearby table.
“Miss Selina,” Alfred nodded at her, as warm and formal as he was to any of the other varied members of the newly expanded family. “I did not expect to find you awake. But I do have something to eat if you are interested.” He nodded down at the tray, not removing lids yet in case she wished to wait. His words, though not formed as such, were a question as to her intentions for the food. She was perhaps slightly younger than he had expected, even having access to Iris’ recollection of her conflict with Selina. Iris, who had suddenly grown as distant and quiet in his mind as it was possible for her to be. As if by doing so, she would remove any negative effect she might have on the situation. He stood, expression openly expectant, and friendly enough, hands clasped in front of himself, waiting.
Selina had spoken briefly to the old butler on the journals, and she didn't recall the conversation as particularly good, or as particularly bad. She knew, however, that this old man was tied to Iris, and her posture immediately went from relaxed and vulnerable, to defensive and capable. The old man could probably take her, but she didn't want him to know that. A real cat would have hissed and puffed its tail; she only stared with cat-green eyes, as if she was waiting for the tray to come flying at her head. She could duck it, she decided, if she had to. She could maybe work up the energy to sweep his legs out from beneath him too, though she was hoping it wouldn't come to that. Standing seemed like an awfully big challenge for the kitty cat just then.
When the tray didn't come flying at her, Selina relaxed slightly. She was too tired to keep up the pretense for long, which was a telling thing where she was concerned; she was amazing at pretenses. She slid back on the medical bed, her experiment to see if she could stand discarded in favor of something warm in her belly. She hiked the over-large grey shirt back up on one shoulder, not liking how the loose fabric accentuated her slight frame, and she nodded once. It was a jerky nod, more scared cat than inviting kitten. She was wary of the old butler, and it showed. But she wasn't wary enough to turn away a meal, and maybe he would be chatty and confirm her suspicions about what was going on with her. "When will he be back?" she asked, and she glanced toward the entrance way at Alfred's back. Tony still had her key; she suspected he would show up soon, and she hoped the old butler didn't mind adolescent tin men.
Alfred’s posture and expression didn’t change, even though he easily catalogued the brief change in Selina’s attitude. He kept steady, as he always seemed to be, and waited for either a positive or negative sign from her. He did his best to keep away from the sorts of conflict that Bruce dealt with, but he likely (in Selina’s current state) would at least be able to defend himself against her. He had to admit to himself that he was relieved when she once again situated herself on the mattress, however. Memories flooded back of a time when he had to care for a much younger Bruce, one that was still dealing with the death of his parents and jumpy with every overly loud sound. Keeping such a time in mind, he moved carefully, deliberately, glancing up to gauge Selina’s reactions but making no unexpected motion toward her.
With care to not rattle the metal covers overly much, Alfred revealed the food he’d brought down: a deep bowl of cream-laced tomato soup, two slices of still warm bread, butter, jam, and cheese. It was simple enough, but each item was of the highest quality and placed on the sturdy but expensive dishes that he always served trayed meals on. He set the covers to the side, rearranging everything on the tray (plate, bowl, cloth napkin, silver soup spoon), and pouring a glass of water. That done, he glanced around and rolled the nearby surgical cart toward himself. Removing the metal instrument tray, he replaced it with the meal tray and carefully guided it over to the bed until it just touched the mattress. It wasn’t an ideal service, but it worked. That done, he stepped back again and finally answered her question. “I’m not entirely certain. Between the two of them, Master Bruce’s presence on this side is difficult to predict.”
Selina regarded the food like it was the enemy for a moment, uncertain if it had been laced with anything. She considered whether it was something in the food or water that was making her feel so weak and jumpy, something Bruce was lacing things with. But no, Bruce might be lying to her about something, but she didn't think he'd drug her intentionally, not when there weren't any real efforts in place to keep her where she was. The antihero might think Bruce's priorities skewed in her direction, but the kitty cat knew better. She gave Alfred a long look of piercing green, waiting to see if he shrank or sweat beneath it, and then she sat forward and dipped a spoon into the soup. It was delicious, of course. She only ate like this after a very good take, before the fence got their share, and before the rest was spent here or there. It had been awhile since a take like that, and her bare toes curled with pleasure at the real cream in the soup. She dipped her fingers in the jam, and she licked the sticky-sweet substance off her fingertips before speaking. "Spoken like a true, loyal servant," she said, pushing buttons, because that's what Selina did to get information - push buttons.
As Selina’s wary regard of the food dragged on for almost too long, Alfred was about to inquire if the meal choices ran counter to any dietary restrictions she might have, but the question never manifested as she returned those eyes to him. He met them calmly, solid in the face of any green-gaze firing line. He had held steady against many things more daunting than an injured girl, no matter who she was once she put on her costume. In that small way, he very much matched the way Iris directly met Bruce’s gaze when they met in person. He did not shrink, he did not sweat. He simply waited for Selina to either eat or refuse the tray. A small, satisfied smile graced his face when she dove in, her enjoyment obvious even in those first few seconds. Her words didn’t steal that smile, recognizing her push for what it was. Instead, his lips twitched as he fought off a thought about today’s youth, and nodded. “Indeed, Miss Selina. I do my best.”
Tony waltzed through the entrance to the cave like a kid coming into science class. He was wearing a suit the color of unworked steel and his tie was gold thread and emerald green. The beard was trimmed, the shoes were shined, and he had two metal cases, one in either hand. With his shirt the brown of old leather there wasn’t a trace of blue glow to reveal that he was anything other than very rich and very pleased with himself. He kept his feet on the slippery ground and did a model’s eighty degree turn to stare up into the darkness up above. He wondered what had happened to his sensor that he had left the last time he was here. “It grows on you,” he commented cheerfully, turning to continue his path toward the butler and the girl. He eyed the equipment that was within eyesight. He was hoping that he could do this favor while staying behind this door, preferring that to taking any samples and risking contamination in the off chance the blood might turn to Wren’s rather than Selina’s in the act of moving from Door to Door. Tony set the first metal case down off to one side about three yards from the trays and switched the case in his right hand to his left. He looked the butler up and down and smiled indulgently. “And you must be Alfred.” He didn’t put out a hand of greeting, and instead turned to eye Selina and see what he could make of her state.
Selina put down her soup spoon as soon as she heard someone approaching, and she was all attention to the footfalls, a tip of her head and a cat-like intensity in green eyes that weren't as bright as they normally were. If she had cat's ears, they would have inevitably swiveled forward in anticipation of the arrival, and that saved Alfred from any immediate retort to his twitching lips. She pushed away the metal tray and the food, in case she needed to make a run for it, but it was only Tony, and she relaxed again a second later. He'd only seen her in the suit and straightjacket, and she looked much younger and much smaller out of those two items of clothing, but the pallor of her skin had nothing to do with that, and the slightly unfocused nature of her gaze indicated a difficulty concentrating. Observant eyes would note the way her muscles twitched and trembled beneath her skin when she shifted on the medical bed, as if they had to work too hard for the simple task of movement. Beneath the too-big gray shirt, the bulk of a bandage was visible at her side. "Butler, meet the tin man," she said, as if she had every right to invite people into the cave.
The unknown voice caused the first hint of tension in Alfred’s shoulders, though his expression stayed calm enough. He was unused to strangers simply walking into the Manor, much less the cave below it. As the alarms didn’t sound, he could only guess that the man had entered in some way different than the usual access points, which pointed toward something hotel-related. The man’s knowledge of his own identity, as well as Selina’s (and the young woman’s obvious comfort level with the man, tentative though it might be), hinted much the same. Iris hadn’t done quite as much reading on the Marvel side of the street, as it were, only brief forays once she’d learned her brother’s alter, so it took Alfred a moment to place the man’s face (and attitude). “Mister Stark,” Alfred finally replied with a terse nod, his attention cataloging the man’s actions even as he turned his regard to Selina once again. “Might I assume he is here via your invitation?”
Tony answered for her. “Yes he is.” Tony was actually pleased to see Alfred there. That way the Butler could give a report to Batman, and Tony might just hear about it if there was something about this whole mess that would save him some chemistry and some time. Even if he didn’t get any additional information, Tony liked the idea of Old Pointy Ears knowing what was happening in his house, just in case. Silver the spy thought it was unnecessary, even dangerous, but Tony, all big personality and arrogance, disagreed. He looked Alfred up and down and nodded something like approval. “You should stay.” As if Alfred had any notion of leaving.
Tony cast his eyes around and then appropriated one of the Butler’s trays and a side table. He dragged the four legs across the wet stone, producing an unfriendly shriek, without the slightest bit of concern. Then he proceeded to make himself at home on the table, opening the first case and propping up his phone. After he plugged the phone into the case, it produced a voice just as British but ten times more sardonic than Alfred. “Standing by for samples, sir. Might I suggest gloves?” Tony ignored that.
“Listen,” he said to both of them, but mostly Selina, “I’m not a doctor. I can give you a chemical analysis, and you should tell JARVIS,” (here he pointed at the case) “your symptoms, but I’m not comfortable doing a whole diagnosis thing, and I never win Operation.” Most of this was gloss. Tony had done extensive research on blood pressure, chemicals, and the human heart over the last two years. He knew more about how the heart pumped stuff through the human body than your average cardiac surgeon, and because he refused to get medical help on his chestpiece, he’d branched out to cardiothoracic expertise, too. When the chestpiece had started poisoning his blood, that included hematology. He knew what blood was supposed to look like from a chemical perspective and a medical perspective. What he didn’t have was a bedside manner.
Tony took out a small box the size of a cigarette package on the edge of the table within Selina’s reach. It was awfully specialized on short notice, and that was because he’d used a similar model on himself. “It tests blood and blood toxicity levels,” he informed both of them. “Put your finger on that little button there.” He held out a box of Hello Kitty bandaids for after the needle inside it did its work, not dissimilar to diabetic testing for glucose levels.
Selina didn't bother reaffirming Tony's response, that he was there at her invitation, because she didn't see the need to waste her breath. Alfred had the answer, and he would either go running for the Bat, or he wouldn't, though she had a sneaking suspicion the Bat wasn't home to go running to. Her black brows climbed in a perfect arch when Tony went ahead with his discussion about not being a doctor, and she couldn't help an entertained smile at how overblown he was. Selina knew overblown like the back of her paw; her entire alias was overblown, and wondered what was behind the tin man's annoying little facade. "The Bat's coming back with whatever I need," she explained, after he'd finished his speech, even though she didn't have any actual confirmation of the fact; she knew. "I don't know what deals he's been making with the devil to get the antidote this time, but this is the third time it's happened. I want a fallback, one that doesn't involve counting on Crane." It was practical, not at all dramatic, and her green eyes reflected an intelligence that was normally lost behind all the thrill and adrenaline. "Because we all know this will happen again," she explained of Crane, of Gotham. "I want a way for us to synthesize our own antidote next time." She smiled, all feline, despite her waning appearance and the sweat beginning to dot her brow. "Or, rather, for the tin man to be able to synthesize one for us." With that, she placed her finger on the testing device, hissed at the prick, and just rolled her eyes at the bandaids in favor of sucking the blood off her fingertip.
Alfred watched the man move about in the cave as if it was his own, and he was quite right that Alfred would not be leaving until order (such that it was) was restored to his domain. He should have perhaps been disturbed by the sort of kinship he instantly felt with a disembodied, rather put-upon computerized voice, but anyone that had to deal with the man in front of him (even an artificially created intelligence) deserved a positive regard. The bustle among advanced medical equipment brought to mind Bruce’s first encounter with Crane, the way he and Lucius (mostly Lucius) had needed to create an antidote at that point as well. “We’ve done it before,” he dropped in after Selina’s words, pulling out a soft, clean white handkerchief from his inner jacket pocket to hand to her as he spoke. His eyes indicated it was for her finger, if she was going to refuse the bandaids. “When Crane attempted to spread toxins throughout the city. We manufactured something in the company’s labs.” He paused, feeling the absence of Lucius keenly. “Unless Crane has changed that much, another antidote should be possible, one would imagine.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Tony said, cheerfully, giving Captain Happy a sidelong glance. “It must be damned complex if Old Pointy Ears can’t figure it out, too, with all his equipment, here.” Tony glanced around once more, and there was not much to see in the shadows, but the last time he’d been here he’d been in the suit, and the suit had more analyzing equipment than the last team that went to the Moon. Literally.
Tony shook the box of bandaids at Selina when she stuck her finger in her mouth. “That’s completely unsanitary,” he noted, with amusement he hid from his face and a twinkle in his eye. He took the silver box back and ignored the screen built into it. It wasn’t like Tony to build a screen without using it, but he inserted the box into a slot on the case and waited as JARVIS whirred to life. Blue models of enzymes and chemical charts started flickering up and down in the air inches above the case’s surface. Tony seemed to be perfectly capable of carrying on a conversation while he was doing this. “So who is this Crane guy? Your typical mad scientist?” The blue images drew shadows on his face, revealing stress around the eyes and age around his mouth, just under the stage villain beard.
"In my Gotham," Selina explained, "we don't have an antidote. We just wait for it to wear off, but the Bat has something that knocks you out while the toxin works, if he happens to be flying around when it happens. I'd only gotten gassed once before this happened, and it was just to drag the Bat out of hiding. But this Crane is more advanced, escalating," she explained. "His original counterpart in Las Vegas was into pharmaceuticals and mind altering drugs. I'm guessing he passed some things onto Crane that make whatever he's doing different than what the Bat expects," she explained, and that was a lot of words strung together. She went quiet for a second, catching her breath and watching the blue images draw shadows on his face. He was older than she expected, the tin man. Not as old as the butler, but older than his adolescent antics in the suit had led her to believe. And the kitty cat hadn't been paying much attention during her last one-on-one with the man.
She glanced at the butler, unsure if his Crane and hers matched up. "He calls himself Scarecrow, but I don't know why he chose it, or why he wears that mask. The one here is sadistic. He's obsessed, and he's sadistic, and he's got a decent amount of sexual predator in him," she said with a good deal of anger and disgust. "Backstory, butler?"
"In ours," Alfred started, glancing between Tony and Selina, "The toxins did not simply wear off. We needed the antidote." He also watched the blue flicker of Tony's equipment as he spoke. He knew the sorts of marks that the 'superhero' sort of life would leave on a man's face, so the creases of stress did not surprise him. "He had formulated something and infiltrated the city's water. He had been intending to evaporate the water, inflict the toxin on everyone. He..." Alfred paused, finding the most politic description, "has a bit of a fixation on fear. And creating it in others."
"This was different," Selina told Tony. "It was injectible, and the antidote didn't take care of it," she explained, not knowing that the antidote was only short-acting, but knowing something was wrong. "He's never used injectables before." Maybe it made a difference, creating an antidote for something inhaled, rather than injected. Maybe it made it harder. Whatever the reason, something was still wrong, and she pulled the blanket up over her as she swung her legs back onto the mattress, her gaze going heavy lidded as she watched Tony at the computer, a distinct lack of third-person in her speech. "Why are you helping, tin man?"
“Sounds like a real nice guy,” Tony commented, only half his mind on the conversation, which JARVIS was undoubtedly listening to and could repeat on command at some later date. He looked up only once at her question. “I think we all learned a few months ago that certain problems don’t stay behind the Doors they came from.” Tony pushed his fingers into the air and manipulated some of the chosen tests and made some decisions on where certain parts of the sample went, and to which tests he’d sacrifice the material. Most medical men would need ten or twenty times the sample amount he’d just gotten from Selina in a dab, but Tony wasn’t going to stick himself any more than he had to when he’d been dealing with the radiation poisoning. There was nothing to betray the fact that the lines and age had come long before the superhero gig. “JARVIS, make sure you give me a full work-up according to those second specs, not the first ones from... not the first ones.” Mostly ignoring the naturally, sir, response, Tony turned and retrieved his second case from where he’d left it. “Alright, run down of the symptoms, please,” he told the patient.
"I thought you said you weren't a doctor," Selina quipped, managing that as she dragged open her eyes. She brought one knee up beneath the blanket, and she rubbed her toes against the sheets beneath in an attempt for catlike pleasure that didn't come. She was feeling worse; there was no denying that. "Originally? It was fear, but then it changed into violence, escalating violence. I couldn't control it, couldn't think beyond it," she said, her voice trailing as she remembered the children at the camp. "I attacked some kids, and then I- It got worse. I'd been shot in the side, luckily, and was losing a lot of blood. It slowed me down, and the Bat caught me after a few hours." She stopped talking entirely for a moment, and she turned her head as she caught her breath and forced herself to finish the tale. "I woke up here, all stitched up and better. No fears, no desire to kill anyone, but I've been getting weak, feverish, like my muscles won't work right. I'm having trouble concentrating too. Worse today than yesterday." She looked back at Tony. "What's the diagnosis, tin man? Is the kitty cat going to live?"
Tony listened with interest all the way up until the point where she said kids. He blinked, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right, and then he looked at Alfred for some kind of bizarre connection, a silent are you hearing this?! before he looked back at Selina. His concern seemed to deepen but he never seemed to cross over into real anger. By the time she was winding up, he had one hand in his pocket and the other planted against the side of the table. In the silence he rocked back on his expensive leather heels and used a thumbnail to scratch at one corner of his mouth. “No idea. Not a doctor. But obviously you’ve got a foreign substance floating around in there, and honestly if you’re seeing shifts in the effects it’s probably going to help a lot if I get a sample in another hour, just to see the changes.” Tony looked away from her back at the floating blue models. It was reeling off sixty-syllable chemical names and showing bar graphs that flickered and went out like channels changing. He wasn’t manipulating it now, just looking at what it was showing him. “Where’s the antidote you were talking about from last time?” Tony asked Alfred, without looking up.
Alfred met Tony’s incredulous gaze with an even one of his own. Yes, he’d known about the children. Not from Selina or Bruce or even the Gotham news, but over the journals, Damian talking to Iris about Selina. He returned his attention to the outputs that were still glowing brightly in the dim cave. “For the inhaled toxin?” Alfred asked, glancing at Tony to see the other man’s attention elsewhere and turning his to Selina, frowning at her appearance and moving away to gather another pillow, returning to set it near her on the cot. “We have some of it in storage.” He gestured over his shoulder toward a smaller corner of the medical area, pausing only for a moment before turning to retrieve a dose. They’d created more after the last time, though he was aware that Crane knew that, would likely turn to something different. Still, it was a starting point, and he returned to set the dose near Tony.
Selina missed the incredulous gaze, too caught up in the newfound difficulty concentrating that seemed to get better after a little bit of sleep. She took the pillow from Alfred, and she looked at Tony before curling up against the new, soft surface. "You can take another sample in an hour. The kitty cat won't bite you," she promised, but the teasing statement came up short in the teasing department.
She seemed to remember what she'd said earlier, while Alfred went for the toxin. "I didn't kill any of the kids, and they were all affected too," she explained of the kids. "Some of them were aggressive, others were scared." She paused, and there was failure in her voice as she curled around the pillow and closed her eyes, her voice getting slower and quieter. "There were fifty kids, twenty counselors." Another pause, and this one longer, as if she wouldn't say anything else. "Some of the kids killed each other." She sighed. "This didn't feel like the last toxin," she explained, "and the one Alexander used wore off without an antidote." Another sigh, and her breathing began to go steady and deep.
That was all Tony had in terms of questions, and he was the type to wake her up without mercy if he needed to. He glanced sideways to her when she told them about the violence, and then he looked back at Alfred, his expression grim and somehow accusatory. How the hell does this kind of thing happen? He didn't voice anything he was thinking, though, and Tony seemed the kind to voice what he was thinking if he had the least little impulse to do so. He went back to the blue lights in the case, which were now showing complex three dimensional models of enzyme molecules. Just when it seemed like maybe he forgot it, he put one hand out and picked up the antidote Alfred had brought. He inspected it gingerly, noting that it needed to be administered intravenously, and then he produced a tool that looked like a file and used it to take the little device apart like a kid with a cereal box. He took a sample and discarded what was left on the table. The blue lights drew solemn pictures on his face, and it seemed like he was in another world. After five minutes he gave himself a little shake and looked around. "This place isn't going to cut it for something like this. I'm going back to my lab to work on the manufacture and get a second opinion."
Alfred stood quietly off to the side, attention switching between the sleeping Selina and Tony’s obtusely glowing molecules. He knew he wasn’t needed by either of them in that exact moment, but he wasn’t about to abandon the cave to their tender mercies without supervision. He was adept enough at blending into the background, mind working at the speed it always did, planning what he needed to do before being pulled back through the door. Tony’s words, cutting through the relative silence of the cave (that was really quite noisy, all told) brought Alfred’s attention sharply back, and he nodded. “Very well, Mister Stark. I do realize that we are not yet at the same level here as some of our counterparts.” He glanced over his shoulder, at the door that Tony had apparently arrived through. “I would ask that you give someone other than Miss Selina notification next time you plan to visit.” Pausing, he went serious. “And that you let us know what you discover. She is quite important to more than one person here. The wider issue of the toxin aside.” With that, Alfred waited until Tony had his equipment packed, and then escorted him back to the door.