Alfred Pennyworth. (ex_accomplic715) wrote in gothamknights, @ 2008-09-15 00:48:00 |
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Bruce. Bruce Wayne sat at the control panel in his makeshift Batcave while Wayne Manor was still under construction. His eyes darted back and forth between the computer monitors. On one screen, a search through police reports regarding a female cat-burglar. One another screen, a search through various news feeds. On the one in front of him, a current list of precious items owned by Gotham's elite. Bruce was trying to stay one step ahead of this Catwoman, but she had proved elusive. There was virtually nothing about her in the databases he searched and her M.O. was still new to him so it was hard to search the records that way.
His run-in with Catwoman left him with a nice collection of bruises and a sour taste in his mouth. He felt foolish by falling for her ploy. He wouldn't allow himself to make that mistake again. He went over their rooftop chase over and over, over the list of jewelry he suspected she had stolen. The other costumed criminals popping up over Gotham City after the Joker's rampage were easier to figure out -- they all had a gimmick. So did Catwoman, but unfortunately it was one to which he could relate. Prowling at night, her agility and grace stood out to him in a different way than Poison Ivy's devoted plants or the Riddler's...riddles. She stuck to the shadows like he did.
And if he were completely honest, chasing her over rooftops was one of the most exhilarating things in months. He didn't have to worry about people's lives or property damage. It was a good old fashioned chase between the good guy and the crook. She got his adrenaline pumping and then managed to get away. Alright, so maybe more than exhilarated -- he was impressed.
Right. Not thinking about that.
She's one of them.
The sun would soon set and he knew he should get something to eat before he spent most of his night patrolling Gotham. But he kept tweaking the search parameters and reading up about recent jewel purchases in the area that might catch her eye. With a list of recently reported thefts, he tried to find some pattern and apply it to what else was out there in Gotham. He was trying to get inside her head.
Alfred. Ah, something to eat, you say? Naturally, it was Alfred Pennyworth's sacred duty to provide.
Master Wayne had entered one of those terribly preoccupied mood phases in which he didn't seem to care very much what he was ingesting so long as it made its way from hand to mouth without incident. It was a state of affairs that allowed Alfred to skip the ceremony, shave off a few frills from what he'd normally prepare for the evening meal, and turn up to the makeshift Batcave with something simple. Sandwiches were quick and functional -- and easily portable, for a hungry vigilante on the go. As he descended into the Cave from the lift, the humble offering was tucked into Alfred's coat, then pulled out and carefully set on the console of the computer, discreet and relatively undistracting from Master Wayne's -- ahem, very important work at hand.
Although he'd set the food down so as to minimize the disturbance to the young master in whatever it was that he was doing, it was simply impossible for Alfred to miss what he was looking at. He glanced over Master Wayne's shoulder, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. "The jewel thief again, sir?" he asked casually, almost blandly. It wasn't the first time he'd caught him being just a smidge obsessive about the information about these heists -- or, perhaps, the shapely young lady believed to be the suspect for all of them. This bore closer examination. "I hear the forty-fifth time's the charm."
Bruce. Bruce could always trust Alfred with his well-being -- whether that meant getting stitched up or being fed. It was a great commodity; otherwise Bruce might just forget to eat when he fell into one of these moods in which Alfred caught him.
He had heard Alfred enter behind him but made no indication of Alfred's arrival until he spoke. "I'm trying to predict her next heist, Alfred," Bruce said, as his eyes don't leave the screen. He turned his head slightly to glance in Alfred's direction. "Fortunately, it isn't that easy for me to get into her frame of mind." It was a joke. Bruce's eyes fall on the sandwich and he reached over to pull it closer to him. He much preferred the simple items of food, even if he could afford the best.
Alfred. "Of course," Alfred responded dryly, gazing at the screen again over Master Wayne's shoulder. "Fortunate that you can't get into her frame of mind easily. Catching a thief isn't worthwhile without a challenge." Not that Alfred entirely bought Master Wayne's line of reasoning about 'predicting the next heist,' or particularly minded that he seemed to be accessing information about a young lady so often, and with such attention to detail. It was hard enough for Master Wayne to find people he cared about, and in his line of work, there was very little time indeed to actually go out and find someone that he actually found compelling.
Perhaps it was slightly misguided of him to be so intrigued by someone ripping Gotham's richest off right and left, but in the end, it was a comforting suggestion that the closed-off Bat identity hadn't entirely taken over Bruce Wayne's consciousness.
Alfred's old eyes narrowed slightly at the monitor. It was a challenge to try and assimilate the information trickling in from all three monitors into a conclusion that made any sense. He'd gathered quite a large amount of intel about this thief, it seemed, especially since simple smash and grabs seemed rather elementary by comparison to the other villainous sorts he had to reckon with; no wonder Master Wayne was having such a hard time trying to take it all in, put the puzzle pieces together in a way that would make sense. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked.
Bruce. Having multiple feeds on multiple screens kept Bruce's mind reeling, trying to see a pattern where he missed one before. He had convinced himself that this -- ultimately Catwoman -- was of dire importance. If it made him feel better about constantly going over these feeds, he was going to stick to that story. It sounded more convincing the more he thought about it. Apparently that did not transfer to saying it aloud to Alfred.
"Hn," he replied before taking a bite of his sandwich. He chewed carefully before continuing. "I am trying to figure out a pattern. I'm looking now at the jewelry that has been reported stolen to the GCPD," he paused briefly to type away at the keyboard, the police reports flashing briefly front and center. "She hasn't been around long enough for their to really be a pattern, though," he frowned. That would be the problem, Alfred. It was hard to discern a pattern with so little material. It was entirely possible that he has been going over the material obsessively that he has lost objective.
Alfred. "Nothing at all in common with one another, sir? It could be any manner of things," Alfred asked, genuinely curious about what Master Wayne was trying to suss out -- and gamely willing to play along, if it was a pattern that he said he was looking for. No doubt he'd gone over a great deal of this himself, but sometimes it did help the thought process to hear things aloud instead of reading lines on a screen. Information overloads were always possible, even for the Batman; 'know your limits,' after all.
"The type of gem she's stealing, or the type of jewelry setting she's stealing, perhaps -- if any, maybe they're loose stones. Or common threads between the people she's stealing from, aside from being merely rich or famous. Where they work, where they live, what they're interested in, the sort of thing that might suggest she's got an axe to grind with someone." For a moment he pictured the jungles of Burma, watching in awe as a young child spun a ruby in the dirt like a top. Clearly, the talk of jewel thieves was taking him decades back in his own adventures. Hopefully Master Wayne's search for motives and patterns would be more fruitful -- Alfred looked at the younger man, surveying him for any response to the impromptu laundry list. "I don't suppose any of this is ringing a bell."
Bruce. Bruce Wayne should just own up to the fact that he will never understand women and what made them tick. The themed villainesses like Poison Ivy were a lot easier to figure out than this. He leaned back in the chair, eyes no longer glued to the screens as he listened to Alfred. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, realizing how much more he had to think about. "I don't have a definitive list of all her crimes, but I have ideas." Mostly surrounded by the method of entry, but even that was speculative. "All I know for certain is that the last item she stole was an emerald necklace from a woman in a high rise apartment." He will need to look into this woman's background. "A necklace this woman had been seen wearing at a charity event recently."
Alfred. "Well. There's your link, sir," Alfred replied, nodding at the screen. The pieces seemed to be fitting together quicker than he'd presumed. Well, maybe. A simplified chain of events seemed to be forming in his mind, in any event. "Why try to sift through all this? Someone is seen wearing a necklace at a charity event. It gets stolen soon after. It could be that someone's targeting guests at these events -- surveying the merchandise yet to be stolen, as it were. You could try tracking down the guest lists for this benefit, or lists of people working the party, then cross-check it against police records. You might be lucky enough to find someone with a history of taking things that don't belong to them."
Alfred shrugged. "Hold a benefit of your own to see if the thief takes the bait again," he suggested. The quest to socialize Master Wayne was as never-ending as Batman's quest to rid Gotham City of crime, and look, in this instance it even had a business application. "Someone wears something at your own party, and then gets it stolen. You prove a more solid link -- but if you do, try not to burn down the penthouse this time, sir."
Bruce. He must have been looking at the information too long. Could the obvious thing really be the answer? He must be over thinking this, trying to find some subtle occurrence when the answer was right in front of him. It was frustrating that this woman was doing this to him -- making him want to suss out other leads and catch her so quickly. Bruce winced at the suggestion of throwing a party. Benefit. Charity event. Whatever -- they were all the same and Bruce wasn't too keen on them. But Alfred had a point. If he wanted to catch this woman, he had to give her another opportunity to see what Gotham's elite would wear to an event hosted by Bruce Wayne.
"I'll need a list of charities or maybe an event for the GCPD is in order," Bruce reluctantly said as a way to agree with Alfred's suggestion. "We'll need a way to keep track of what jewels people wear. And get a list of that last charity event, try to replicate it -- just in case." In case Catwoman did have beef with particular people rather than an eye for their valuables. Bruce was already typing away at his computer, some screens popping up that basically outlined the social events of the season for Gotham's rich and bored.
"Thanks," he said after a moment, a brief glance in Alfred's direction. Besides being a pair of fresh eyes on the case, Alfred ease Bruce's fixation to a point where he could almost let it go for the evening. Bruce probably would've continued going over these Catwoman feeds until he pulled himself away to go patrol. Planning an event was more productive than sitting in front of these screens. And it was something to keep his mind off that woman for now. His priorities were back on track when it came to the case.
Alfred. "You're welcome, sir," Alfred replied automatically, his own mind already beginning to fabricate Bruce Wayne's cause du jour. It also occurred to him that it was best to strike while the iron was hot, and press the advantage in his conversation before it got too late. "Perhaps this means you need a break, Master Wayne," Alfred added meaningfully. It was more tactful than telling him 'You missed something I came up with at the drop of a hat' outright. "When I can suss these things out before Batman can, I take that as a sign. Maybe I should start wearing the suit if I'm coming up with all the solutions around here, sir, even if I don't fill it out quite the same way --"
To no avail. Master Wayne had his sandwiches, and once again he had his focus. There was no drawing him out of his work now for anything, even a rather cutting piece of repartee -- and certainly not for any rest. Alfred sighed. "Very well, then."