Chapter Text
Prologue
“Steph . . . Can you hear me?”
“I’m almost there Tim . . . I’m almost. . .” Stephanie’s voice is breathless. Her heart pounding. Everything will be ok. It’s always ok. They always pull through.
“Steph, listen, these last few months have been incredible. You have helped me discover exactly what I wanted to do with my life. The kind of man I would be.” Shut up. Shut up! Don’t talk like that. Stephanie tries to remember her training. Deep breaths. Push down the panic, the fear. Panicking can get someone . . . Killed.
“I wish I could be there for you.” His voice was so soft she almost doesn’t hear it.
“Tim. . .don’t hang up, stay with me!”
“I love you Steph . . .Goodbye.”
The click of his mic is drowned out by Stephanie’s screams. Those are drowned out by the explosion on top of The Belfry.
Everything is not ok.
Chapter One
A Gaping Hole
Five Years Later
“So, you’re not actually a doctor?” Jeff, a man of 34, homeless and an recovering addict, eyes Stephanie suspiciously. His fingers tap rapidly on the armrest of his chair. They sit in a small office that really is nothing more than a converted storage space. And sometimes it is still a storage space.
“No, I haven’t gotten my doctrine yet in psychology. . .” And if she’s honest, she never will. “However I do have a bachelors in psychology and I am board certified.” She points her pen towards the framed documents hanging up. Jeff cranks his neck to look at them, exposing a tattoo of a flaming eyeball on his neck.
“But don’t you have to be a doctor to do this?” He says as he turns back to her.
“Apparently not.” She sighs. “Since I am here. Talking to you. Now look you wanted to talk to me.”
“I wanted to talk to a professional!” One deep breath. He’s agitated. Eyes aren’t dilated so it’s not from drugs. And his skin looks normal, besides being a bit pale. The fidgeting is from fear. Something has this man scared.
“I am here to help you. You came here for help.” Here being Open Doors. A halfway house for those abandoned by society. The place offers beds, food, clothing and counseling. Sometimes they even hold job fairs. It’s hard work with little pay, she has to take a second job. But it is making a difference. Many people have gotten clean and sober and remained that way. Stephanie feels she’s done more to help Gotham in this one year than her total time as Spoiler.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if you’d believe me. This is big. Really big.”
“How big?”
He pushes back into his chair opens his mouth several time as he stretches his arms out wide.
“Wayne big.” Jeff finally manages to say. He lets out a deep, shaky breath.
“You mean what exactly? You know something about the Wayne’s?” After Tim’s death Stephanie purposefully kept her distance. Even from Cass. Something she regrets.
“People are disappearing. They go in and then they’ll be gone. Poof! No one will do anything. I went to the police but they turned me away. Homeless can’t go missing cause they’re home-less. That’s what they said! But really, it’s cause of the Wayne’s. Cops won’t touch them. They’re untouchable!”
“Jeff . . .”
“I might be next! So I gotta tell someone who has the smarts to do something. Before I’m taken. Cause I’m sure the police work for the Wayne’s.”
“Why don’t you take a few deep breaths.” He does and calms a little bit down. “I want to hear this. Hear everything, starting from the top.”
Jeff does exactly that. It’s a long tail that involves missing homeless, cults, government cover ups, blood ceremonies and all of which is happening under the roof of The Martha Wayne Memorial Clinic. It’s a well known free health clinic.
“So you are saying several of your friends have used this clinic, got blood work done and now are missing?”
“You don’t believe me! Of course you don’t.”
“I didn’t say that. I’m trying to understand what might have happened.”
“Might have! I know my friends, we would do the same thing everyday. Then BAM!” He slaps his hands together. “They’re gone. The same thing everyday until they got blood work done. That’s the only explanation.”
“Give me their names. I’ll see what I can find.” Jeff lists off three names, the last catching her attention. “Maryanne? Maryanne Jones?”
“Yeah, The Spoon Lady. She’s missing. You know her?” Stephanie does. Maryanne is one of the many homeless she does wellness checks on. The woman suffers from schizophrenia and only rubbing the face of a spoon seems to calm her. Hence the nickname, The Spoon Lady.
“I saw her three days ago. She seemed well.”
“Yeah, well she’s gone. I’ve checked all her haunts.” That is troubling. Maryanne only stays in one of three locations. And she was crippled, she wouldn’t be able to leave the city on her own.
“Thank you Jeff for telling me. I’ll see if I can find them.”
“Don’t do that! They’ll just come after you! You got to find a way to tell Bats! He’ll find them.” Stephanie pushes down her anger at his suggestion. Memories of an empty casket flash in her mind, her pen almost snaps in her grip.
“Batman isn’t always the answer.” She pats herself on the back for managing to say that calmly and not through clenched teeth. He opens his mouth to protest but she cuts him off. “But I’ll do my best. Ok?” Jeff doesn’t seem placated but the color is returning to his face. She walks him to his room and asks him to get some rest. Before she leaves he tells her he’ll pray for her. And asks her to feed his dog if he’s taken.
Said dog is sleeping in a homemade bed, belly up as it soaks up the sun. She smiles at the simple life of a dog.
Stephanie agrees and walks to the front desk. Christopher is manning it, a fellow graduate from Gotham University. He starts to smile at seeing her but quickly looks worried.
“Oh boy, I know that face. What happened?”
“I need you to check these two names for me. See if we’ve housed them before.”
“I don’t recognize the first two but I’ll see what the database has. If I can get it working, it’s down again.”
“Of course it is, let me know what you find as soon as you do.”
“Everything ok? I see Maryanne on here.”
“Jeff thinks these people are missing.” Stephanie pulls her purse from behind the desk. “And in this city? That could mean many things. If Mr. Woodstone needs me, I’ll be out looking for Maryanne.”
“Is that safe? To do on your own?”
She flashes him a grin as she walks out the door. “I’ve taken a few self defense lessons.”
The walk to the first location didn’t take long. The spot is on a strip of road known for the scattering of tents. The smell is something she’ll never get used to. But it just makes her more determined to help.
Her eyes scan the tents, looking for Maryanne’s. She finds the pink and white flowered tent in its normal spot. Getting closer, Stephanie taps on its roof. “Maryanne?” The tent moves as Maryanne peels open the tent flap. But the face that greets her isn’t who she had hope to see.
“Stephanie! Hey, uh, Maryanne left this here tent unoccupied for more than a day. You know the rules!”
“Devon, where is Maryanne?” He snaps his toothless mouth a few time before answering.
“I honestly don’t know. Jeff’s all worried. But I don’t think anyone would do anything to her.” He leans to the side to show Stephanie the contents of the tent. “She doesn’t have anything of worth. Just lots of spoons.”
“When did you see her last?”
“Don’t recall.” Devon rubs his chin. His eyes stay on her’s and his voice is even. He’s telling the truth.
“Thanks, I’ll try her other spots.” Devon waves her off as he goes back into the tent. Stephanie takes half a step before halting. “You ever go to the Martha Wayne clinic?”
Devon pops his head back out. “Nope. They are too damn pushy on that blood work. I hear it’s so they can bug you. No thank you!”
“Right. Say Devon?” He nods at her. “That’s Maryanne’s stuff, keep it safe for her.”
“Will do!”
Her second stop is just as fruitless. No one has seen her and her spot is now occupied by someone else. The only difference here is that some homeless have used the clinic with no issues. There were a few who heard horrible things about that place, all sounded familiar. Jeff either heard these same stories or is the one spreading them.
Either way, no Maryanne.
The final stop is a burnt out warehouse. Stephanie surveys the hollowed shell with trepidation. The building was condemned after it was the place of a fight between Batman and the Scarecrow. Now it severs as a reminder of how harmful Batman’s ideals are.
Scarecrow was captured. But this area will forever be scarred.
“Maryanne?” Stephanie calls out into the building. No reply. Not many stay here. Maybe only Maryanne. If she was taken, this would be the ideal place. It’s isolated, it’s away from prying eyes and not many security cameras.
Stephanie picks up a brick for protection as she slowly walks to Maryanne’s usual spot. The building is dark, charred from the chemical fire. Even with parts of the roof gone and windows blown out, the sunlight can barely make a dent.
Why would Maryanne even stay here? She would complain about the voices she would hear, all the voices she would say. Did this place help her block them out?
Stephanie gets to the makeshift shelter of Maryanne.
It’s torn apart.
Dark stains on the cardboard and blankets. Blood, she’s sure of it. Stephanie recognizes those type of splatters. There was a fight. And it was violent. The cane Maryanne uses lays broken on the floor and off to the side is a bent spoon.
Stephanie kneels down to get a closer look. “Oh Maryanne. What happened here?”
Stepping back she surveys the area again. It’s pointless. She doesn’t have the tools on her to properly investigate the area. Heck, she doesn’t have tools at home, having turned over every gadget to Bruce.
She could leave it up to the police. But Stephanie has a sinking feeling they wouldn’t care about a missing homeless woman. No matter how bloody the scene is. Gotham has too many threats that require attention.
Which means if she wants to solve this, she’ll need to go back. Back to the place that left her with a gaping hole in her heart.
“Hope Bruce will listen. Or even let me in through the front gate.”
Only one way to find out.