Starbucks? (Open)

[Bailey Dahl]

It was Tuesday night and three o’clock in the morning; the Narrows was surprisingly quiet, save for the distinct “flip-flop” Bailey Dahl’s mary jane’s made as she padded along the broken sidewalk. In her hand she grasped a small itemized list of the coffee the other doctors had requested that she retrieve from a 24 hour Starbucks, which they assured her was just “a few blocks away.” Bailey of course had no idea there were not any Starbucks, let alone, coffee shops for at least three miles. Apparently being next door to Arkham Asylum was a location not even Starbucks would touch.

The young doctor, eager to please, however, was determined to get those drinks. Maybe then they would like her (at least just a little bit more). So she kept on down the street, not really taking in her surroundings: some homeless men gathered around a bin fire, a store being looted, a couple of men fighting in an alley. Bailey Dahl was completely oblivious to her environment and just kept on walking down the street, white coat and Arkham security badge still on. She still thought she was safe wherever she went. After all, who would want to hurt a doctor?

”The Narrows in’t so bad. I don’ know what ‘da fuss all about.” she thought as she strolled down the semi-deserted street.

Bailey smiled at a man talking to himself as she walked by, taking his frantic hand gestures as a wave to her.

”The peoples pretty friendly too.”

She waved back at the man and picked up the pace; her break was only an hour and she didn’t want to keep her co-workers waiting all night. Starbucks just had to be close. Arkham was already out of sight and she had gone at least four blocks. As she went further along there were more and more people on the street. A liquor store she passed had at least seven patrons lingering around, drinking, smoking, and yelling back and forth. Bailey got just a little bit nervous as she felt their eyes on her, but she tried not to think about it.

“Yo doc’! I got somethin’ for you to look at! Why don’t we go play doctor?” One of the men yelled at her. The other men joined in laughing along with their obviously inebriated pal and cat called when she stopped and turned around.

“Any y’all gentlemen know where a Starbuck’s is?” She asked, choosing to ignore their previous comments. Bailey had learned how to deal with drunks in Louisiana during Carnival and one of the cardinal rules was never encourage.

Instead of giving her an answer, however, the men all burst out laughing.
“Yeah, Starbucks is just around the corner next to the Ferrari dealership.” The men all joined in another round of chuckles.

Bailey looked slightly confused, but decided to follow their directions. There was a Ferrari dealership in the Narrows?When she had gotten to where they had said it would be, however, she ended up in an alleyway. She could barely see, but continued to walk further, guessing it was just another one of Starbuck’s strange locations.

When Bailey got the end of the alley, however, she finally figured out there was nothing there.

”Zut alors.” she whispered as she tried to navigate back. It was rather easier walking into the pitch black alley then it was out.

Bailey felt along a brick wall to her left as she walked slowly forward, trying to avoid stepping on any broken glass or needles that littered the ground. Just as she thought she was getting pretty close to being back on the street again her fingers brushed along something that was definitely not a wall. Not a door, not a box, but alive. She quickly withdrew her hand and whisper-screeched ”mon dieu!” as she stumbled backward and away from whatever she had just touched.

[Batman]

A sharp pressure pressed against the small of Dahl’s back. It was blunt so probably a handgun instead of a knife. Then there was a voice: “Bang. You’re dead.”, the Batman said with a growl. Sometimes it was best to scare not only the predator but also the prey. If you keep away the deer, the wolves starve. There was supposed to be a major buy here later on and the Dark Knight was in the neighborhood to keep the criminal element on their collective toes. Batman had seen Doll coming and decided to pay her a visit. Something about her was off, unsettling. "Never assume you're alone in a place like this.", he warned her.

He was indeed human under there beneath all the rubber and metal plating, at least if the most spectacular accounts of what exactly the Batman was are to be disbelieved. Human or more, what was certain was that he did not look pleased when he stepped into the light. His cowl wrapped around a scowling face with stone-dead eyes.

The Caped Crusader took another step forward narrowing his eyes before he began his questions. She looked young, too young. Based on her height, her features, she was barely past pre-teen. There was only one reason a girl that age was in this area at this time of night. “What are you doing here? Who do you work for? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Of course, he didn’t mean Arkham. The sad truth was that he assumed she was a child prostitute, a situation all too common in the Narrows. He was going to concentrate on breaking up a Meth ring but if she was what he thought she was, he now had other priorities.

He pushed out his chest, trying to emphasize his height advantage as much as possible. He wanted to give himself the air of intimidation as much as possible. Both to keep her out of this place and, paradoxically to show that he is a protector, that no matter how big and bad her pimp may seem, he was much, much worse.

It’s then that he noticed the badge. She may be a patient. Using a doctor’s pass to get outside the walls of Arkham. Either way he’d have to keep her from running. If she fit his former assumption, running would put her back into the jaws of a violent and dehumanizing world; if she fit his later assumption, running would send her into a hostile and unforgiving world compounded by whatever mental abnormality from which she suffered.

[Bailey Dahl]

Bailey Dahl’s heart fell to the bottom of her stomach when she felt the blunt object press into her back.

“Bang. You’re dead.”

She closed her eyes, expecting to be shot and killed: her whole life literally flew before her eyes in mere seconds. Bailey had never realized how pathetic her existence had been up until that point. It had been filled with nothing, but books and learning. She had literally spent her whole life chasing after a dream; a dream that wasn’t even hers. The whole situation almost seemed funny to the small girl as she stood shivering during the few seconds she actually believed were her last, thinking about what the news reports would say in the morning: Starbucks is a Killer! Baby Doll Doctor Killed in Alley during Hunt for Lattes! At least she would sell a few papers.

"Never assume you're alone in a place like this."

Bailey didn’t dare to turn around when she heard the man speak again. Inside she was letting out a blood curdling scream, but all she could manage was a meager, almost inaudible, “s'il vous plait…don’t hurt me.” She had no idea why she had said it, but it just seemed like the thing to say in a situation like this. She really wanted to scream“help!” but for some reason she was absolutely lost for words. After a few seconds of trying to speak, Bailey gave up and decided that if this was the end, than this was the end. She just wished she had done more with her life. Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grâce. Le Seigneur est avec vous. … the young doctor began to repeat the Hail Mary in her head, her eyes closed tight; she fully expected to be killed at any second, but the bullet never came.

Bailey finally allowed herself to breathe… and ever so slowly opened her eyes. There didn’t seem to be anyone there. She turned her head, scanning cautiously for signs of life. Maybe he had run off? Before she could answer her own question, however, the man stepped into the minimal light given off by the street lamp. She almost wished she had never opened her eyes when she realized what was looking back at her. A bat! No, it had to be a man. Was this the bat man her patients were always screaming about in their dreams? Was he a monster? An escaped patient? Whatever he was, he was beyond terrifying: his eyes seemed as cold as steel and his voice seemed almost inhuman. He looked like a giant to the young girl as well: a giant covered in black steel. Bailey had no idea that the Batman was just trying to warn her. All that she knew of the masked vigilante was what her patients had told her and they did not paint a pretty picture.

“What are you doing here? Who do you work for? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

The small girl’s eyes seemed to glaze over as the batman spoke again. Bailey’s brain had temporarily shut down; she was in complete shock. In her first week at Arkham they had taught the new staff members some minimal self defense and evasion tactics, but she couldn’t remember even one of them. Bailey even had a small bottle of mace attached to her key chain, in the pocket of her white coat, but she didn't remember that either.

The only way that she figured she could deal with this was to try and “take control of the situation.” Maybe if the batman got his answers he wouldn’t want to hurt her. Despite her brain screaming for her to just answer, she could barely utter a syllable, but tried to none the less. “Jeremiah...Resident…Arkham…I’m… Starbucks…” she whispered, her eyes as big as saucers. Bailey thought she had answered in full sentences, not knowing all she had said was gibberish. Her mind was telling her to run, but the only thing she could do was stare down the alley, hopefully; her legs (like her mouth) were not co-operating with her brain. Run, run, run!

[Batman]

That was French. The accent sounded like Louisiana, definitely not Québecois. He might as well stop her from panicking too much. Perhaps the Caped Crusader had over played his hand a bit. “Si vous n'avez pas de mal, ma ville, je ne vais pas vous nuire.” His accent was thickly American yet lacked Cajun idiosyncrasies.

Her response gave the Batman one of the few satisfactory moments in recent days, albeit a satisfaction drawn from the negation of a perceived outcome. She was a Resident of Arkham -- that meant that she was not a child prostitute -- or more correctly was not currently engaged in said activity. This of course brought other troubles to his psyche. It was doubtful that someone like her could escape alone and there might be much more dangerous inmates now on the loose. One crisis at a time though.

The Dark Knight let out a dejected sigh. He might as well play delivery service for Crane’s replacement. At least it would put the girl back in the system especially if she was capable of things beyond her appearance. Given the propensity for theme criminals lately she may just be some sadistic woman using her childish looks to draw others into false senses of security.

Bruce Wayne would need to donate a large sum to Arkham to keep it better staffed. There seemed to be a revolving door system going on at the facility even discounting the madmen like the Joker who continuality escape others are shipped off for quick parole due to a lack of space. The bastard may be right: his city was slowly turning to madness.

He returned to English. “You’re going home. Now. I’m not going to allow you to walk around my city when you obviously still need help.”, the monster still growled as he spoke. No hint of wavering, no glimpse of discussion was found in his voice. There was a pause and his cape flew back as he raised his right arm at a ninety degree angle. He pressed down his palm and there was a beep and the roar of an engine. As if drawn to him by its own force, quite obviously remote control for those outside a state of delirium, a highly customized motorcycle comes to the Batman’s side. He leaps onto its back before giving Dohl a clear command, “Get on.”

[Bailey Dahl]

Hurt his city? Bailey didn’t understand what he meant. Did he know about the street racing? She had heard that some of the races were funded by mob bosses, but she didn’t believe the hype. Was he mad that she had been participating? She’d won a couple of preliminary races, and collected winnings from the “sponsors,” but she thought it was just a bit of fun: slightly illegal, yes, but all in good fun. As far as she knew it didn’t hurt anyone. Why would he care?

The girl was still in shock, so it took her a moment to realize that the question had been asked in French. Batman spoke French? Perfect French at that. Bailey had expected the batman to be all brawn and no brains. At least he had said he wouldn’t hurt her. The statement sated the girl slightly, but it was hard to believe a man in a mask, especially one that seemed more than human.

Before Bailey could conjure up some sort of reply, however, the batman spoke again. This time telling her he was taking her home and that she needed help. Help? Home? What did he mean by it? Was he taking her back to Louisiana or to the Bowery? Where did he intend on taking her? She didn’t understand how he even knew where she lived. All that she could think clearly was that the batman was not joking.

The small girl’s gray eyes darted towards the alley; the thought of escape had crossed her mind again. She backed away from the batman slightly, daring herself to make the move and just dash out of there as fast as her short legs could take her. Maybe, just maybe she could get into the street and get some help: but, it wasn’t probable.

Instead of making a break for her freedom, all Bailey could will herself to do was watch, wide eyed, as the batman raised his arm and a large stylized motorcycle came to him. Now she was sure she couldn’t make it out of the alley.

She backed a little further away when he told her very sternly, from his seat, to get on. Bailey stared nervously at the monster of a motorcycle and bit her bottom lip. Don’t get on. Don’t do it… The young doctor sighed, realizing that she was too scared to defy him and made her way slowly towards the bike, its engine purring softly. Bailey avoided looking at the batman as she pulled herself up onto the back seat; telling herself he wasn’t there.

The doctor was mere inches from the batman and her heart was racing. In any other circumstance she would have grabbed onto the persons waist to keep from falling off, but the girl kept her arms to her side, too terrified to touch him.

“Wait!”

Bailey suddenly seemed to regain her sense of speech. “Mistuh, I cayn’t go home… My boss’ll be so mad at me. My shift ain’ over yet and…and….” The girl’s voice was barely above a whisper as she stammered on. “And I still have to finish the orders.” Bailey shakingly opened her hand, where the RX slip she had written the coffee orders on, was crumpled in a ball. For some reason she felt the need to show him some evidence that she wasn’t up to no good. She opened the paper slowly, and shivered as she held it for him to see. She had no idea that the sweat from her palms had smudged the ink and left nothing, but a bunch of black squiggly lines. Bailey was sure that the slip would clear her name and that he would know she was just a doctor out for some coffee and not some sort of criminal.

[Batman]

He was in no mood for this. He listened to what she was saying, or more correctly the pieces he could hear over the roar of an engine, even if it was probably word salad caused by a faulty mind. It didn’t make sense. He’d have to get her to into a lucid period if he was going to decipher what if anything she was talking about. “What the Hell are you talking about?” Then it did make sense. Her boss may be a long gone entity. Her babbling was a psychosomatic response to her fear. Perhaps to come with what she saw in him she went back to something else more frightening.

He reached back for the note and saw nothing but smeared ink with one hand, keeping his other be to avoid catastrophic vehicular damage. The paper showed him nothing, of course. Just another non-existent link in a chain from a damaged mind. As they drove along he let the paper slip from his fingertips after looking at it, letting it fly back to dance in the breeze.

Her link, her last hope at redemption sailed away. The Batman took a sharp right sending the tires wailing at him. Hopefully for Bailey’s sake she was holding on white-knuckle tight. He zipped between traffic narrowly avoiding catastrophe about a half a dozen times. At the end of their journey he pulled to the gates of Arkham Asylum. He was nearly as ominous as the formidable gates of that old dark place. “I expect you to walk through those doors and turn yourself into the staff. If you chose not to comply I will fling you over the wall with a grappling hook. Are we clear?"

Of course she did not have the coffee but Batman looked like he was probably telling the truth. Additionally, his previous disregard for his well being shown by his driving stunts no doubt reinforced that perception. His motorcycle idled and he did not move anything but his neck, sitting still save for the vibrations caused by the engine, both hands on the handles.

[Bailey Dahl]

The minute that they arrived at Arkham, Bailey flung herself off of the motorcycle, falling to the ground in her haste. She straightened herself up and rubbed her knee, not daring to look behind her at the Batman. The sight of the old Asylum sent a chill of elation up the small girls spine; she was desperately excited that she had finally reached a place of safety. Bailey was most likely the only person to have ever felt that feeling while looking at Arkham.

The young doctor rushed over to the gates and pressed herself against the wall next to the intercom. She watched the Batman carefully, as she was looking out for this “grappling hook,” while she pressed the large red button that would connect her with a guard.

Almost immediately loud static filled the otherwise silent air.

“Arkham Asylum.” The voice answered with a yawn. It was quite obvious the guard was ready to send away whoever was at the gate.

“It’s Doctor Bailey Dahl.” Bailey answered shakily, while still emphasizing “doctor” rather harshly.

“Doctor Dahl? You ok sweetie?” The man asked, suddenly concerned.

“Well..Actu’lly… Lyle jus’ a second.” Bailey let go of the intercom button, suddenly interrupting the transmission between her and the gate guard.

“Bailey?! Dr. Dahl? Dr. Arkham’s been looking for you. He said you went off to get coffee and didn’t come back for the second part of your shift…. Hello?...Bailey?...Babydoll!?” Lyle, the guard, shouted their conversation one way while Bailey stared at the Batman, ready for him to zoom off, or fly away, or whatever mentally disturbed vigilantes did these days.

Bailey sat and continued to stare, dead eyed, while Lyle kept shooting off on the other end of the intercom. She didn’t know what was keeping her from screaming for the guards, the police, the patients to come to her rescue. From what she had experienced, and her patients had told her, she should be doing just that. But she didn’t want to believe what she and her patients thought were true. She wanted to believe that people always did the right thing, unless they were mentally sick, and that there were good people that always looked out for other people, for no personal gain of their own. But Batman, he seemed like he did this for kicks, for some kind of pleasure, and it made the young doctor uncomfortable. She had only been in Gotham for a short period and already felt for its people; she didn’t want some madman running around hurting and disrupting citizens lives. But maybe, just maybe, she was wrong about him. Maybe he was really good and it was all a misunderstanding…. Maybe…

“Well you gonna shoot me?” Bailey asked politely, all of her southern charm back in place where it should have been. Her voice had gained it's usual bravado, but she was still backed against the cold stone wall, ready to press the alarm button for assistance. Lyle continued on in the background about procedure and blah blah blah, but Bailey wasn’t paying attention to anyone, but the man in the mask.