From: Philippa Chapman (Glastonbury, Somerset, UK.) Date: Sun 15 Jun 1997 07:00 +0100 Subject: Batleap, Part 1. BATLEAP Author's notes: This one's for Sharrah, in Toledo, Ohio. You sparked me off and I just filled in the details..... Forget Val Kilmer, Michael Keaton and George Clooney. They should have let Scott do it right from the start! See this queue to be Batwoman....? I'm in it! (Or, for the naughtier-inclined fans, Catwoman). "My friends, I hope you've enjoyed our little comedy tonight. It's called 'The Bat's Revenge'." :- Prince Orlovsky, Pink Champagne (Die Fledermaus for am/drams). It has an Alfred in it too, all you 'Romance, Romance' watchers. You should have seen me in the Prince costume...white tie, tails, the lot! NOW (ish), PARALLEL UNIVERSE. (Unless you can prove to me that Gotham exists in our world). The falling sensation of the Leap was different this time. Sam felt pulled, stretched. It was as if a giant hand had snatched him from the path he should have taken and was yanking him off-course somewhere else. He landed on a highly polished stone floor, stumbled and fell to his hands and knees. The surface of the floor had been buffed so well that he could make out the suggestion of brown hair and a blue suit. Sam looked down at himself. Yes, masculine blue wool suit of a very high quality, maybe even Savile Row. He whistled softly and looked around him. He was in a long corridor or passage, punctuated on the left-hand side with windows. It was late evening or night outside. On the right wall, spaced evenly down the length of the corridor, stood several half circular tables, each reeking of polish and at least a hundred years' age. Above the nearest table was a beautiful oval mirror with an ornate frame that Sam knew instinctively was covered in real gold leaf. He stood up, noting the chandeliers with real candles that hung near the ceiling and the decorative plaster-work near the tops of the walls. "Wow! If it wasn't for the suit, I'd have sworn that I'd gone back to the Eighteenth or Nineteenth century. Mirror first, questions later." Sam approached the mirror gingerly and his eyes widened when he saw a face not so dissimilar to his own....at least as far as he remembered it. He narrowed his eyes reflexively and compared the details. The brown hair was perhaps several shades darker, the white streak had gone and the cut was extremely good. . The nose showed signs of having been broken and reset at some stage, the eyes were completely clear green without the merest trace of hazel flecks, but the mouth and the chin were so like his own that it was uncanny. "I'm not surprised that you're spooked, Sam. Even I had to look at the Leapee twice to be sure it wasn't you." Sam turned to greet Al, since Al wouldn't show up in *this* mirror. Al was sporting a particularly vibrant lime green suit, with a bright yellow tie and green fedora. "But he's *not* me....is he? And....they haven't been wearing *those* psychedelic colors since the Sixties." Al grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "No, he's not you. He fainted after he Leaped in and we compared D.N.A. Ziggy's still trying to figure out why you look so alike, though. And for your information, there's a Sixties revival going on, and you're currently missing out on the five sexiest little female singers from Britain. They call themselves the Spice Girls and boy, I wish I could show them what *I* really, really want....though not in front of Tina. When she wears that red low-cut sequined number and starts singing along to their records....well, let's say it does a guy's heart good!" Al's eyes gleamed and Sam coughed. "I get the picture. Put your libido on 'hold' a minute and tell me who I am and why I'm here." Al obediently punched his Handlink. "Name....... Uh-oh. Nothing...Ziggy's going bananas on this one. Says you're not in any town she recognises. I think I'm going to have to have quiet words with our Leapee, if he'll co-operate. Just lay low and try not to get into any trouble. This place probably belongs to your host, his family or friends. It looks pretty deserted. I'd have a quiet snoop if I were you and hope you find something to your advantage." Sam sighed deeply. "Okay. Don't leave me in the lurch too long, though." Al nodded. "I'll do my best. In the mean time, keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut." Sam tried to look angry. "Very funny." He watched as Al punched his Handlink and vanished. Sam carefully dusted off the knees of his pants - not that they were dirty as such - but he felt he owed it to the expensive material and tailoring. He carried on walking along the corridor, his shoes squeaking slightly against the polished floor. A large set of double wooden doors in the right-hand wall stood slightly ajar. The room inside was pitch black. Sam tentatively pushed the doors open, balancing on the balls of his feet just incase there was danger within. He gasped when he saw what was inside. A library...of sorts, with books around the walls, but down the middle, in double serried ranks, was the most comprehensive collection of different styles of body armor he had ever seen. Everything from reconstructed Greek and Roman, through Viking, Medieval, Renaissance, Samurai and up to bullet-proof. Sam examined each piece in turn, feeling instinctively that they were probably the best examples of each genre. On the end wall were swords of every continent and age. Sam gently took down a fencing rapier, remembering when he'd had to use one briefly in a past leap. After he replaced it, a Japanese Kitana took his eye. He passed it in front of his body to the left. then up, over and into the right hand, circling it once. A strange feeling of power shivered through him and all the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He examined the pommel, which had a scrap of faded Scottish tartan attached. Sam's eyebrows met in a brief frown of puzzlement. . {Come on, everyone! How about THAT as the next leap? Eager noises of encouragement from this Celtic inclined and Scottish ancestored lass! Anyone? Well, if no-one else will do a complete one, I just might....} _ Sam slowly and carefully put the sword back on the wall. He turned away and left the room, closing the doors behind him. He proceeded down the corridor towards a pair of even larger heavy wooden double doors facing him at the end. He turned the brass handle on the right-hand one and entered the room. Leather, polish, firelight. Sam's head turned automatically towards the blazing log fire in the large stone chimney on the right. Facing the fire was a huge leather couch, behind which a mahogany table held a large silver tantalus containing six large bottles of assorted spirits. Sam stepped closer and found Laphroaig whisky, Armagnac, real Russian vodka, rum, gin and vintage French brandy. All in a matched set of crystal decanters with silver and gold chasing. Sam whistled again appreciatively. "Sir, I do wish you would get out of the habit of whistling indoors." The voice was older, masculine and unmistakeably English. Sam turned towards the speaker. He was dressed in a sober black suit, grey-haired with a kindly face. The butler continued speaking. "I do hope that you haven't forgotten the guest we invited here this evening. Ms Gunn *is* an expert on armour, and given your....occupation, you expressed interest in picking her brains....discreetly, of course." Sam was inwardly perplexed, but tried to nod knowingly. "Uh...yes. What time will she be here?" "In about 15 minutes, sir. Long enough to refresh our minds about *our* latest designs for the new suit." The butler carefully spread out a roll of paper on another table in the middle of the room. Sam's eyebrows raised involuntarily almost to his hair-line at the intricate drawings and illustrations of a very futuristic and frankly figure-hugging example of body armor, all in black. The currently unnamed butler began to refer to the pictures as if he'd done this a hundred times before, which Sam had to assume he had. "Now, we took into account the chafing you got around the neck with the current model, so we redesigned the neck-line here and here. I've received the new supply of bullet-proof lycra and the re-vamped light weight alloy for the body will be easier to wear. The cape is still waterproofed, of course." Sam was frozen in horror at the first sentence. <*I* have got to wear *that*?!? No way.... I'd get arrested!! > At that moment Al returned. "Hey, you'll never guess what *this* guy wears.....Oh, I see you've found out! I talked with our guest; at last. You're crusty English butler is Alfred." Sam managed a grateful look at the tail-end of his scowl. "So....Alfred. How soon will this.....suit be ready?" "By the end of the week, sir." Al helpfully held up three fingers and Sam nodded. "Anyway, Sam....you're name is Bruce Wayne and this *intriguing* outfit is worn by you....I mean him, when he goes out and about as...." The final piece of the puzzle fell into place in Sam's mind. "BATMAN!! Ohhh, BOY!" "Yes, sir. That reporter dreamed up the name and you decided to adopt it. It has a certain.....poetry to it. It has redolences of Johann Strauss and Dr Falke, the original man in the bat costume himself about it. In any case, Ms Gunn will be here directly. I'll put these plans safely back in the cave for now, then prepare to let the lady into the house." Sam nodded and Alfred left. "Johann Strauss I know, but who on Earth is Dr Falke?" Al shook his head slowly. "I don't remember you being interested in light opera, so I'm not surprised." He fetched up the information for Sam's benefit, " The basic plot is kicked off by Dr Falke being dunked in a fountain and then indulging in a large slice of devious revenge, where the people he's set up are all incognito and get perilously close to illicit sexual liaisons. Falke's master-stroke is getting the hero *this* close to seducing his own wife without knowing it!" Sam snorted incredulously. "I don't believe it, Al! If I'd slept with a woman....hell, if I'd *kissed* her, I'd know her again anywhere!" Al's eyes twinkled. "In the first case it's just a story and in the second....well, you've obviously never role-played in your sex-life. I can't tell you how exciting and......*stimulating* it can be to pretend with your lady that you're two different people. Anything from good old doctors and nurses through to fantasy figures and pretending that you're complete strangers indulging in a single night of passion. I was playing *that* one with Tina the night you leaped." Sam rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling. "Why am I not surprised?!" Al ignored Sam's remark. Sam's keen ears picked up a distant noise. "That sounded like a bell of some sort." Al nodded. "Yes, that's the lady armor expert. Just moved to Gotham from Witrin in Albion. Her full name's Jeanette Gunn. Age...35, single, dedicated." At that moment, Alfred brought the lady into the room,"Add frumpish and plain. All the stereotypes." Sam privately thought that Al was a little harsh on the lady. Ms Gunn kept her eyes down, seemingly unwilling or unable to look directly at Sam. "Thank-you for granting me this interview, Mr Wayne. I've brought the photographs and catalogue showing the pieces we hope to obtain from Europe. I hope that you will consider aiding the museum." Sam gave both Al and Alfred an enquiring look over Jeannette's shoulder as she opened her portfolio on the table. He felt a spectacle case in his breast pocket and engaged himself in putting them on. Al dutifully consulted his handlink. "Ah....yes, Sam. There's a good chance that millionaire and entrepreneur Bruce Wayne would help here. He gives regularly, and anonymously, to the orphanage, the soup kitchen and several other charitable causes." Sam nodded imperceptively and bent over the pictures on the table. The art-work on the drawings was very good. "Who did these artist's impressions? They are very lifelike." Alfred leaned in from the other side. "Indeed, sir. I detect an artist's hand." Sam caught the merest hint of a blush on Ms Gunn's face. "I...er....I made them before I left Europe. Thank-you." Sam smiled warmly. "Would you like to see my own collection?" Her face turned towards his, her pale lips curving into an awestruck smile. "I would consider it an honour, Mr Wayne." Alfred coughed significantly. "Perhaps some refreshment, sir?" Sam realised that he had forgotten his manners. "Of course, Alfred. What would you like...coffee, tea, wine....maybe some spirits or fruit juice?" Sam reckoned that all of *those* would be in stock. "Coffee, please...with a small Armagnac, if that's possible. I haven't tasted it since the last time I was in la belle France. The beautiful Chateaux along the Loire....Chenanceau, Villandry and the son et lumiere in Blois, then Paris herself. I spent *days* in the Louvre alone. Have *you* ever seen the Mona Lisa, Mr Wayne?" Sam glanced at Al, who shrugged. "Don't ask me! *You* might have gone there as a student, I guess. Bruce...probably. He's got plenty of spare cash." Sam took a chance. "Ye...es, but it was quite a few years ago now." Sam and Ms Gunn left the room and arrived at the armory. When Sam opened the door, Ms Gunn gasped. "You should be the museum's expert in armoury, not me!" She entered the room in a daze, exclaiming over every piece. Sam followed, picking up terms that he hoped he'd never have to repeat knowledgeably without Al's help. They came to the end wall and looked at the swords, just as Alfred came in with the drinks. "I took the liberty of bringing your usual, sir. I trust that was correct?" Sam reckoned he'd better accept the proffered drink. The tumbler suggested that it was spirits, but there was no ice. Sam sniffed surreptitiously. Definitely spirits, neat, with a strong peaty smell. His eyebrow quirked slightly in an unspoken query as he took a sip. Rich, strong, liquid fire. After the initial surprise, Sam decided he liked the experience and went back for more. "It's the Laphroaig, Sam," Al said, helpfully, but unnecessarily. Sam was already warming to the taste of real single malt whisky, without ice. Alfred put down the silver salver he was carrying. "You are enjoying Mr Wayne's collection of armour, Ms Gunn?" She sipped her Armagnac. "Yes, very much." Sam decided to open up the conversation a little bit more. "So.....is there any armor that *I* don't have that you would like to examine from a professional perspective?" Suddenly, she looked up and her face became eager and animated. "Oh, *yes*!! If only because it's such an enigma. I would love to know *exactly* how Batman's armour is made. Of course, I have theories.....it must be lightweight and bullet-proof as well as water-repellent. That basically rules out metal. Maybe a special fibre-glass is involved..." Sam looked up, startled, towards Alfred. Although the expression on Alfred's face was guarded, Sam could tell that Jeanette Gunn was hitting very close to the truth. Al nodded. "Yes, this lady knows her stuff. She is smart, I'll give her that." Sam turned back to Jeanette. His eyes were drawn to her mobile, animated mouth. Suddenly he was seized with the almost irresistible urge to find out how nicely those lips would respond to being kissed. He pulled himself up severely. Sam realised belatedly that Jeanette had finished speaking. "Yes....that's a fascinating insight you have there, Jeanette. If I ever....bump into Batman one of these nights, I'll pass on your interest." Al coughed to hide his laughter and Alfred merely raised an eyebrow. Alfred collected their glasses in smooth, studied silence and left the room, after passing Sam the briefest of significant glances. Al checked his handlink. "I can't see anything significant for you to do for now, apart from offer Ms Gunn here some of Bruce's substantial fortune, so I'll get back to you in the morning unless anything vital occurs." Sam turned to Jeanette. "Well......Jeanette. I would very much like to help Gotham city museum. I'm sure I can support the bids you make for the pieces you require." Jeanette looked up at Sam. "Thank-you very much, Mr Wayne." "Bruce, please. We are going to be communicating closely together." Sam favoured her with his best smile. Jeannette's mouth curved slowly into an answering smile. Sam received another strong impulse to kiss Jeanette and this time it *was* irresistible. He reached out, cupping her face with his left hand and brushed her lips very gently with his thumb. If she was not aware of him in the same way, she would be able to convince herself that it hadn't happened. But her eyes closed, her lips softly parted and she even made an incoherent murmur of pleasure in her throat. Sam moved in right on cue, sliding his hand around her head and covering her lips with his. For maybe ten seconds he found himself drowning in the sweetest first kiss he had ever known. Her lips were soft, responsive and extremely seductive. Sam felt himself beginning to get aroused. "Sam! *Sam!!* What the hell are you doing? No, I *know* what you're doing, but what ever possessed you to kiss *her*?" Sam pulled away guiltily and Jeannette ducked her head, leaving the room almost at a run. "Dammit, Al! Who I kiss is no business of yours.......it was one of the nicest kisses I'd had in a long time, too." Sam's face went into his 'puppy dog' expression and he turned away, trying to gain control over the nerve endings in his body that were still tingling with awareness from holding Jeannette close and kissing her. "Sorry, Sam. I keep forgetting you have different tastes in women to me. Anyway, I came back because things have changed slightly.....a police patrol have got out of their depth with a gang of hoodlums...." Sam left the armory and looked into the night sky. There, emblazoned on the clouds, was the one thing he had dreaded seeing. In brilliant yellow, the sign of the bat that called for Batman. "Oh, no.... Now I've got to do it for real. Ohhh, Boyy!" "This way, Sam. Downstairs." Sam followed Al down the wooden staircase, through a hidden door, then down a stone staircase to.... "The Batcave!" Alfred appeared from the shadows. "I saw Ms Gunn out, sir. She seemed anxious to return to the museum. I saw the sign and got out the Batmobile ready for your immanent arrival." "Thank-you, Alfred. I'll go and change now." Sam turned away and grimaced uncomfortably as he followed Al towards the room where Bruce Wayne kept the Bat-suit. He sighed deeply and quickly stripped down to his underpants. "Ooh, Sam....real silk...and black, too. I approve of Bruce's taste." Sam merely glowered and began pulling on the lycra-like leggings and leather boots before standing up and donning the black silk singlet and the close-fitting sculptured body armour with the yellow bat symbol clearly emblazoned on the front. "Well, it feels okay, but I'm glad I only go out at night. This suit leaves almost nothing to the imagination!" Al shrugged. "Remember it's not *you* they're seeing. You can hide behind Bruce 's aura." Al decided to withhold from Sam the fact that Bruce Wayne could body double for Sam without any trouble at all. "I still feel.....exposed." "Yeah, well those villains won't be worrying what you *look* like." Sam nodded and ran to the car, eager to get the whole experience over with as soon as possible. The great door to the Batcave swung open and Sam roared out. Al sat in the back, shouting directions until they reached the alley-way where the gun and fist fight was in progress. Sam turned the headlights on full and launched a couple of guided knock-out pellets under Al's instruction before getting out of the car. He flattened a third hoodlum with a solid right punch, then everything became a little frenzied. Sam found himself throwing more punches, kicks and dives than he had in a long time as he helped subdue the gang, Bullets whizzed past his ears and rebounded from his body armor with a loud 'clang'. Through it all, Sam received the subliminal impression that this was easier than it should be. At times it seemed almost as if he had someone helping him, but he was too occupied to take a good look around. As the last hoodlum was cuffed and led away to the waiting patrol car, Sam saw a slight movement in the shadows, "What's that, Al?" The hologram duly went to investigate. "Can't see anything, Sam." The physicist drew in some steadying breaths as he went to investigate. He scanned the side alley, catching sight at last of two things on the ground. A piece of paper and a lady's handkerchief. Sam unfolded the paper. "My first is in reap but not sow, My second's in ice but not floe For thirds chose dreams over sleep For fourth, dungeon not keep The fifth brings love over hate The sixth is fire and grate The seventh and last, you won't repeat, for you'll rue the day when we meet." Al began consulting the Handlink immediately. Sam brought the handkerchief to his nose. He recognised the perfume, *knew* it, welcomed it. Roses, with the subtle undercurrent of pure feminine musk that hit his memory and the pleasure centres of his body with equal force. He reeled inwardly. Al finished consulting Ziggy. A slow smile crossed his face. "Of course! I should have remembered the character who enjoyed leaving clues like this!" Sam looked up rather dazed and stunned from the handkerchief. "Huh?" Al waved his hand in front of Sam's face. "Hey, Earth calling Beckett! What a time to get an attack of the hormones!" Sam visibly pulled himself back to Al's words and blushed. "Sorry Al....the fragrance on this handkerchief is unbelievably familiar." "Yes, well; I can't really help you there. But I *can* help with the note." "Ah...okay, Al. Is it a case of cherchez la femme?" "I don't *think* so.....not if this guy's who Ziggy says he is. This note was 85% guaranteed written by Batman's old enemy, the Riddler." Sam held up the handkerchief. "Then *who* dropped this? Even if the Riddler uses feminine perfume for some reason, there's no way he could smell so....so...erot... so unmistakeably like a woman. She may just have been helping me a few minutes ago." Al grinned. "Well, I *thought* I caught a glimpse of somebody, but whoever-it-was stayed at the periphery of my vision. I was concentrating on watching your back." "Yes....me too, but thinking back, it was definitely a woman." Sam closed his eyes and recalled flash impressions of long legs and a very feminine version of armor like his. Al correctly interpreted the look on Sam's face. "Only one piece of hot stuff it *could* have been, Sam. There's really only one woman who was destined to be Bruce Wayne's lady...." Sam opened his eyes. "Of course! Batwoman...... OHH, BOYYY."