Monday

When I settle into my desk the next Monday, for the first time in my life, I don't feel like working. I pop open my checklist and stare glumly at the newly printed Gotham newspapers in front of me. Perhaps it's time I took a vacation.

I had just begun to imagine myself sitting on a beach somewhere doing nothing but drawing when I hear the familiar ping of the elevator. Surprised, I glance at the clock…11:42...surely Mr. Fox has already come in today. In order to seem industrious, I bend down over the newspapers, scanning for important information. My intense scanning is interrupted by a polite but obtrusive cough.

"Yes?" I ask, looking up but pointedly remaining hunched over the newspapers. I'm not interrupted that easily.

"I'm looking for Applied Sciences. Clearly I took a wrong turn somewhere," the sleek looking man standing in front of me offers up a harmless half smile.

What does a rich, well dressed man like this want with a department like Applied Sciences? It takes me a couple seconds to get over my disbelief.

"Actually you haven't quite made it there yet," I say.

He arches an eyebrow and looks around, "No where to go but filing cabinets" he argues.

Poor, confused Rich Guy is obviously clueless.

"Follow me. People have been known to enter the labyrinth and never return," I counter dramatically, standing up. My efforts at sarcasm are rewarded with a mischievous smirk as he strolls casually along beside me.

"This is the department of archives," I explain, "Everything you ever needed to know - and some things you really don't - about Wayne Enterprises"

"Sounds fascinating" He says seriously.

"It is," I say defensively, in response to the feigned interest plain on his face. He grins innocently at me.

"What do you know about the department of Applied Sciences?" He asks

'Not a lot, really," I reply, "There are plenty of rumors` but nothing has ever been confirmed."

"What are the rumors then?"

"Why so interested? Not planning on stealing any secret technologies are you?"

"Something like that…yeah."

"You're joking…right?" I ask. Now he's got me curious. He laughs lightly.

"I need some gear for exploring caves. Safety first, you know." He says, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world.

"Spelunking huh?" I say

"Sorry?"

"Spelunking, you know, caving as a hobby," I say, "Anyone who's so dedicated in their hobbies to need technological protection should know their terms."

He has the decency to look slightly ashamed of himself.

"Anyway," I add, "I doubt if you'll find anything but military technologies down below. That seems to be what this company is most interested in nowadays."

"We'll see about that," he says, completely seriously.

Who is this guy, I want to ask. But something tells me I don't want to know. Perhaps he's just some executive with wads of money to waste on expensive new gadgets. He must be someone within Wayne Enterprises since both the Archives and Applied Sciences are private departments. I make a mental note to ask my executive friend about it later. We reach a dark looking elevator and I step up to push the open button for him.

"Here we are sir," I say, my face deadpan, "When you get back just press this call button here and I'll come escort you out." He starts to chuckle until he realizes that I'm pointing to a real button that reads "assistance".

"You weren't kidding about those poor lost souls in the maze of archives were you?" He asks, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin.

"It is a form of job security sir," I say, smiling, "Make sure to be the only one who can navigate this place and I can never be replaced"

He laughs, his face breaking into the first genuine smile since he came down here. A smile I distinctly recognize from somewhere.

"I'm Lynnet Pearl, by the way" I add as the elevator doors begin to close.

"Nice to meet you Miss Pearl," His answer is partially cut off.

He ignored my prompting; mystery man remains a mystery. I grunt in frustration and head back to my desk. Before I can get to work reading my newspapers, however, I find myself searching the computer for spelunking information. I put together a list of supplies:

Hard Hat (possibly with lamp)

Back up light

Warm under layer

Hard outer suit

Waterproof boots and wetsocks

Knee and elbow pads

Ropes (knots: figure-of-eight-loop, bowline, alpine butterfly, and Italian hitch)

slingshot , slings, carabiners

Just in case he's as clueless as he seems, and maybe as a bit of a hint, I add a list of safety precautions. I also search through articles on ideal caving supplies, since I suppose if the man is rich enough to buy Applied Science's technology, he probably can afford the best. I include grappling hooks and a line gun on my list. I figure Fox most likely would have a line gun since it was a military technology. Just as I finish sending the pages to my printer I hear a buzz and a red light pops up on my screen: "assistance needed".

I make my way back through the filing cabinets, this time going a much more direct (and cunningly hidden) route than the circuitous one I took with Rich Guy.

"You rang" I say dryly, coming up from behind him. Startled, he straightens up and turns around, eyebrows raised at me.

"You're like my butler," He comments.

I stare blankly at him, unsure of whether this was a compliment or snide remark. Without another word I lead him off in the opposite direction I came from. This guy doesn't deserve to know my special route. Three turns around filing cabinets later, my curiosity gets the better of me.

"So did you find anything worthwhile?" I ask.

He smiles. Once again I find myself wondering where I know that smile from.

"If I told you the hidden things in Applied Sciences, we may have to lock you down there forever," He responds.

"Its only one floor down, I think I could live with that," I say, laughing.

"Still," he says, "I think it's best that Archives doesn't know absolutely everything. We need to keep a few secrets from you, to keep you guessing."

I shrug, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing that I'm dying to know what's in the department below me. When we reach my desk he starts to head to the elevator, but I realize I haven't given him the lists I printed off.

"Wait!" I say, holding out the sheets, "I compiled these for you."

He looks surprised but he takes the papers and reads them over anyway.

"Thanks," He says. He turns to go, then hesitates. Slowly pivoting to face me, he asks guardedly, "Could you find some more information for me?"

"Sure, what do you need?" I ask.

"I need a…hypothetical list of possible cover companies that seem legitimate," He says. I can feel his gaze gauging my reaction. Whatever he's planning to use this information for is probably illegal. But, it's not like I have much else to do. Creating dummy companies would be a nice diversion from filing, hypothetically of course. And he has a nice smile.

"I think I could do that," I say cautiously, "I don't suppose you could tell me what they're for."

"Not really," He says, wincing a little.

I nod, "Well as long as its in support of Wayne Enterprises and not against it, and as long as I believe its purely hypothetical, I'll do it. It would add some excitement to my archiving, anyway."

"Trust me, you don't need to worry about supporting Wayne Enterprises," He says, laughing. His gaze flicks towards the newspapers spread across my desk. I get the feeling I'm missing out on an inside joke. He starts to leave again.

"Who are you?" I blurt out.

He looks back at me, smiles, and says "Bruce Wayne". He gets in the open elevator, and I'm fairly certain his last view of me is my mouth hanging open in a state of shock.

Bruce Wayne? The supposed dead guy?

I hastily leaf through the newspapers on my desk and there, on page one of Gotham Daily, is just about the largest photo possible of the man who had just walked through my department. And across the top, in bold, impossible-to-miss typeface, is "Bruce Wayne Lives!"

Now I know why he was laughing so hard. I guess I got what I deserved for putting off my daily routine. To cheer myself up I research all the files pertaining to old, unheard of, or shut down companies that Wayne Enterprises ever created or did business with. I figure that since Bruce Wayne was the one asking for this list, he would appreciate it if the fake companies could be connected with real ones. Sort of gives it more legitimacy that way.

It wasn't until I had brainstormed a catalog of over fifty companies that I realized I had spent my lunch break working for Rich Guy. Life just isn't fair sometimes. Especially since at 1:00 Mary brings down the company reports and I end up working double time to finish everything by 5:00.

At 5:00 I wave goodbye as Mr. Fox leaves. At 5:30 I start using fragments instead of sentences. At 6:25 I realize that if I don't get going I'll miss the last non-deadly train to the narrows. I shut down my computers, turn off the lights, and fly into the elevator only to run into Chad, who apparently was coming down to see me.

"Hi, I was just thinking of you!" I say.

"You were?" he asks, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, I was going to ask you who Bruce Wayne was, but then I found out he was…Bruce Wayne," I finish lamely.

"I…see?" Chad replied, "Uh…do you want a ride home?"

"No. Thanks for the offer, but I think I can make the 6:30 train," I answer.

We get off the elevator and I start to head in the direction of the train station.

"Please?" he asks, taking hold of my arm, "I need to ask you for a favor."

"But I kind of want to meet someone on…oh never mind. What do you need?" I say, switching my direction to the parking lot.

Chad takes a deep breath.

"Tomorrow nights dinner party at Earle's," he says very fast, fully aware of the backlash he's about to receive.

"Oh no!" I groan, "You know I hate those. It's always so incredibly awkward. Them pretending they don't know me from work, or worse not recognizing me from work."

"Lyn," he tries to interrupt, but fails as he's not the most outspoken person in the world.

"And if I have to pretend to be your girlfriend one more time to get them off your back, I shall scream. And I just know Mrs. Earle gets some sort of sick satisfaction watching me try to figure out what random new utensil I'm supposed to use for some usually disgusting dish."

"Lyn you know I never asked you to pretend…."

"Not to mention having to listen to them talk over you like you don't exist, treating us like we're washed up old historians with our heads under a rock. At least when I finally told them we were dating they stopped berating you about being single."

"But Lyn I don't mind how they…"

"What's in it for me?" I ask, swiveling around to face him, arms crossed.

He smiles in relief, usually I don't give in this easily.

"We'll go to the library and spend hours watching history channel reruns then start fact checking using the books." Chad announces.

I smile, only Chad truly understands my obsession with history and chronological order.

"We do that all the time anyway," I argue.

"Yes, but this time we'll break our rule, skip to World War Two, and it'll be all that more exciting." He says eagerly.

I laugh, "Not good enough. You want me to attend this dinner, then I get to drag you to something as equally awful for you."

Chad thinks for awhile then his face lights up.

"I got it! Gotham Art Museum," he proposes.

"Getting better…" I respond. Chad may share my love of history, but he certainly does not like art.

"Gotham Art Museum Biennale Exhibit" he adds, grinning from ear to ear.

I stop in front of his car to turn around and stare at him, an expression of pure joy on my face.

"But…" I start.

"I…well…Wayne Executives, even less important executives like me…are invited to a special opening" he stutters.

"Then you can count me in tomorrow night," I announce, sliding into the passenger seat.

"Thank goodness," he says, starting the car.

"That's really a sacrifice on your part," I say, "I know how you feel about contemporary art."

"It's also a month away"

"Don't think you're going to get out of it. Especially if Mrs. Earle decides to break out the caviar again. Who says you can't have caviar with silver anyway." I add bitterly.

He laughs, "You are Gotham's top archivist. And you can't even do a little caviar research?"

"It's not a matter of being able to. It's a matter of being inclined to do it."

Halfway to my house he asks, "Who was it you wanted to meet on the train anyway?"

"My real boyfriend"

He looks scandalized.

"Not seriously," I say, "No, it was just some strange guy who couldn't be bothered to talk to me."

"Ah, another of your victims."

"Yeah except this one refused to react."

"Be careful, you never know…"

"It was fine. I'm a good enough judge of character to know. I can tell by their reaction if they're going to prove dangerous or just standoffish. This guy…was something different. He wanted to be noticed. But he didn't. It was odd."

"Just…be careful." Chad says.

"I am," I assure him. I stare blankly out the window, thinking of mysterious orange hoodie guy (with a baseball cap), when a beautiful, be-speckled man with crazy eyes distracts me.

"Let me off here," I say.

"But we're still a block away," Chad protests.

"I know," I reply, "But that man looks interesting." I start to pull out my sketchbook.

"All right," he gives in, sighing.

I step out of the car and start to follow the guy. As luck would have it he stopped to wait outside an apartment door. I casually strolled up to him.

"Hi," I say, arming myself with my friendly smile.

He looks at me, kills me with his eyes, and looks away without moving an inch.

"Nice to meet you to," I say and continue on to my apartment, fast.

I don't - can't- forget those eyes. Even behind glasses, the cruel intelligence was stunningly clear.