Batmaid 10

Tanya penny worth

The Halloween party—why did it have to be a Halloween party? I mentally asked myself as I did what any maid in my position would do: serve drinks. I was wearing this pumpkin dress with black cat stockings. I felt ridiculous, but at least I wasn't the only one in a silly outfit. There were several serving staff brought in for this party, and I was getting a nice payment for staying on tonight.

It had been a few weeks since I had nearly been turned into a woman-bat by that mad scientist, and the near-death experience of nearly having my throat ripped out by a potential vampire... Really, too many damn bats in my life, I thought as I moved through the area serving drinks. If I kept this up, I might need therapy for bat exposure.

That being said, in those few weeks, I had recovered from my injuries and gotten back to my normal routine—well, an augmentedly normal routine. I was still technically the maid of the house, but I was also Bruce Wayne's secretary. He didn't invite me to the labs, mainly because they were dangerous and there had been some strange occurrences. But he had given me a whole room as my personal office where I could take care of any information that needed to be done. I also had to attend several board meetings—definitely a bit more relaxing. The main corporate buildings of Wayne Tech were much better defended than the laboratories. It was hard not to see why; after all, you have a bunch of millionaires in a single building in a city full of criminals. It was a giant target, so you needed a lot of defenses to keep them at bay.

I was making a damn good income now—good enough that if I wanted to, I could get a nice place somewhere in the city or even outside it. Then again, why waste money when I had fine accommodations here? Plus, I had a car and everything I needed. The only thing I was having trouble getting was a proper weapon to defend myself against the chaos that seemed to control this city. I'm not one for conspiracy theories, but I could see why one conspiracy theory online made sense. It was made very difficult for the average citizen to acquire weapons here in Gotham, and the major conspiracy theory for that was that all the judges in charge of those laws around gun rights had been paid off by the mafia to ensure that only cops—who could be paid off—or criminals who didn't give a damn about the law walked around with weapons. This made it easier for criminals to commit crimes.

Granted, perhaps it wasn't that bad. Perhaps it had nothing to do with it, and it was simply that people's opinions on weapons were split. But considering how deep the criminal aspects of this city ran, I couldn't discount it. It was a theory that needed more proof, but I wasn't going to dismiss it—especially when it prevented me from getting something as simple as a 9mm pistol.

I sighed and looked out across the party. There were a lot of socialites here—movie stars, mayors of the past and present, the current mayor, basketball, baseball, and football players from the local teams. The only team not present was the hockey team, and that was mainly because they had a game tonight, which was being shown on one screen in one of the main lobbies of the house.

You know, it was just a festive night, people celebrating Halloween a day or two early since most of them wanted to be home to give out candy or take their kids trick-or-treating. A dangerous idea, if you ask me, considering how dangerous the city was. I wouldn't want to have kids here. Heck, I wouldn't even want to go out at night here. The place was a crime-ridden hellhole at the best of times. Halloween seemed to just increase the crime rate, at least from a distance—it looked that way.

If I wasn't serving as the maid staff, I'd be mingling a lot more with these people. There were a lot of connections to be made in this place. Unfortunately, that wasn't my role tonight. I provided drinks, cleaned up, and looked good. Bruce Wayne was in charge of mingling with the guests. He was doing more of his good deeds, trying to help fund an orphanage outside of town, as well as making general civic improvements. The man had a good heart. He probably would be easily taken advantage of by those with bad intentions. If I were a little less charitable, more concerned that some old entity was out to get me, I'd probably take advantage of Bruce Wayne and go straight for the idea of tying myself to him instead of playing this long game of taking advantage of his good nature.

But again, would I really do that? After all, it didn't take much to convince me to wear this costume. I looked down at the pumpkin costume. If I wasn't at least somewhat happy living with this man and dealing with his eccentricities, I probably would've demanded a stock portfolio to be shoved into this dress.

I was getting introspective. Possibly, I'd been through a lot this year—nearly dying several times—and yet, I refused to leave a job that had put me in this position. I should be thinking about leaving, but I wasn't. A similar thing had happened in my last life when it became apparent that the empire was heading down a road to a great war. I should have considered escaping to America before—hell, even North Africa—but I didn't. I was happy with what I was and what I had become, and I wouldn't back down, even to my former self. Maybe it was just a function of the pissing match I'd gotten into with the so-called God being X. Maybe I just wasn't as logical as I tended to think I was. Maybe I was just insane. I'd always believed I had every complex known to man; maybe they just interacted weirdly with whatever situation I was put into. I did have the ability of a social chameleon, able to fit into any society I was put into. Perhaps it wasn't a one-way road. Perhaps, in order to become a social chameleon who fit into any society, I had to let myself become part of that society.

It would explain why I was more accepting of things—or maybe it came down to just software and hardware. Salaryman.exe running on Tanya the Soldier's hardware gets Tanya the Soldier, not willing to back down. And as a result, Tanya the Soldier running on Tanya the childhood friend of Bruce Wayne is more than willing to deal with the strange bullshit that seems to follow him around.

I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair. I sighed. I needed to stop thinking too deeply. Too much introspection can drive a person mad, and I didn't feel like going insane tonight.

"Ah, Miss Pennyworth?" came a croaky voice from my right. My eyes twitched just as I turned to see a familiar figure walking toward me—a short man using an umbrella as a cane, with two women in oriental robes flanking him.

"Mr. Cobblepot," I said, offering him the tray of drinks. I smiled and commented, "I thought I heard you had been arrested last week."

The man made a snarky noise before saying, "Oh no, no, that was a miscommunication. It wasn't me arrested; it was some comrades of mine. It turned out they were less legal and more forethought than I am." He amusedly took the drink and sipped it. He smiled as he looked at me, studying me with his eyes as if planning something.

Not wanting to be taken by surprise, I asked a question to hopefully draw out whatever he was aiming at. "I thought you were in trouble with Bruce Wayne because last time you forgot to pay your way."

Cobblepot snarked before saying, "Well, yes, I was in trouble for that mistake last time. This time, I donated a generous amount of money to charity. I'd say $40,000 is a good amount, don't you think?"

I nodded my head. He had donated twice the amount necessary to enter the party, so I guess I could call that generous, though most people had given more than $20,000. Charity work makes great tax write-offs, after all.

"Well, that's good. You're giving something people always need—more finances to help make the world a better place."

Cobblepot nodded before saying, "Always do, always do. Hey, I've been wondering, how much does old Brucie boy pay you?"

I raised an eyebrow at that before asking, "Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, it's nothing much. I just—my father apparently used to use your grandfather, I think, or at least a member of your family, as a butler. I was just thinking, would it be wild to get one of his descendants to be my butler? It'd be amazing, yeah. A sign that the Cobblepot name is on the up-and-up, getting better."

I raised an eyebrow at that. I was unfamiliar with how far back the butler lineage in my family went, but I hadn't heard anything about this. Considering how much I'd heard about how Alfred had to spend his time working with Bruce Wayne's father, I had to suspect there was a reason no one ever mentioned working for the Cobblepots—probably bad contracts. People don't talk about a job unless they were happy with it. If no one had ever mentioned work for the Cobblepots, I had to assume it had not been a happy job.

Smiling, I simply nodded my head and said, "Well, I'm afraid the contract I have with Bruce Wayne is quite exclusive for the next two years, and I'm not at liberty to discuss the amount of money he pays me. It's a bit of a non-disclosure agreement, I'm afraid."

"Non-disclosure agreement? You're a maid?" Cobblepot said, seeming confused as he nearly spilled some of his drink. I noticed his bodyguard move her hand to stop him from moving his hand too far in one direction, turning it so the drink stayed in the cup. There was some level of dexterity in that action, and I had a feeling I didn't want to upset his bodyguard.

I smiled and nodded. "Well, that's how I started my position, yes, but I'm also now a secretary at Wayne Tech—his personal secretary, carrying notes and such for him. In fact, I think under my non-disclosure agreement, I cannot take a job for three years outside of Wayne Tech due to my exposure to need-to-know information within the company."

"Damn, sad. Very sad. I could offer you quite a bit of money, as I made it my residence, act as if you wanted a little extra money—more. The Iceberg Lounge is a fine establishment."

I raised an eyebrow at that. Me and this guy were just suspect of all his activities. I'd heard about the Iceberg Lounge over the last month. Besides being an upper-echelon criminal hangout, there were reports that some of its areas were just one level above a strip club. So, the man had basically asked me to be his personal maid and stripper, as far as I was concerned. I was glad I had plenty of other options and ways of excusing myself from even considering it. In my head, I said, "Well, it's an honor that you considered me, but I'm afraid I'm quite happy with my position and currently locked into it for a few years. Plus, nothing is better than working with an old friend for job security, and Bruce Wayne is a childhood friend in my case. Don't you agree?"

Cobblepot opened one of his eyes a bit wider before laughing out loud. "Ah, nepotism. Gotta love it. All right, no hard feelings then, Miss Pennyworth. No hard feelings at all. But if things ever go wrong between you and old Brucie boy, know that I'm there for you. I have plenty of positions in my company or my house."

I felt like he was going to say "or my bed" after that, judging by the look in his eyes. I shivered. "Thank you for the offer, sir, but I must be getting back to work."

"Of course, of course," he said, waving me off as he finished his drink and put it back on my tray, allowing me to walk away toward the kitchens.

I turned the corner and blinked several times as I thought I saw someone in a black dress moving further into the darkness toward sections of the house they shouldn't be in. Annoyed, I immediately took the glasses off the serving tray and put them down on a table with a cloth so they wouldn't damage the wood. Then, holding the serving tray like a good little defensive object, I followed them.

There was no way the same woman would come into the same house and try to rob it again, especially after they came the last time. No way at all, right? I considered all the possibilities as I moved down the hallway, only stopping to press a button on my side that Bruce Wayne had given me to alert him if there was any trouble. There wasn't room on the dress for a walkie-talkie, so this little electronic button was all that could fit there. Hopefully, it would alert him, and he'd use the tracker on it to find me before anything major happened.

It was good he was thinking ahead, considering the last time we ran into trouble. Plus, I'd probably keep this button if it had the range he said it did—being able to press this the next time I was kidnapped would guarantee that someone would show up to rescue me rather quickly. Turning down the hallway, I saw nothing but darkness as I made my way toward a familiar section of the manor—sections that weren't supposed to have guests inside of them.

I turned one corner and stopped because something weird was going on. This was a wooden hallway with metal decorations, yet sitting on the ground was a black dress and two high heels. I had to tilt my head at that. Did I just follow some couple off to do some nightly activities that they weren't supposed to be doing in other people's houses?

If I had, well, I still had to chase them down and yell at them because they weren't supposed to be doing that in Wayne House. Annoyed, I pushed on, looking down and noting that there were no other clothing items besides women's clothing. What was going on? I asked myself as I came to a door that led into one of the many rooms of Wayne family relics. Seizing the opportunity, I decided that was as good a place as any to start. I put my hand on the handle and jiggled it, expecting it to be locked. It wasn't. I quickly pushed it down, stepped in, expecting to see either a thief or some couple doing something naughty.

Instead, I saw a thief. It was hard to tell exactly because they were dressed in a costume—with two large cat ears sitting on their head. They turned, their eyes hidden behind orange goggles, their lower face covered by extra material that could be pulled up like a scarf. Their figure was shown off rather well by the costume. Their clawed hand was currently cutting a hole in a glass container that held what appeared to be an ancient Egyptian cat statue. They looked at me in confusion, as much as I looked at them in confusion.

"Meow. Seems I've been caught," the voice said with a smile. They finished cutting their way in but didn't reach in to pick up the statue, instead leaning against the glass container and looking at me. "So, what are you going to do, Miss Maid? Are you going to run and get help, allow me to escape, or are you going to take that serving tray you've got there and use it as a weapon?"

I kept my eyes locked on her and said, "Very tempted to use the serving tray as a weapon, though I'm kind of surprised someone would try to steal from a place two weeks after someone else did."

"Why wouldn't I?" the woman said, holding up her hands as if it were no great mystery. "It's obvious the security here isn't doing so well. They let me in without any issue."

"So, your name's on a list, or it's not on the list. Wonderful. How about you do me a favor? Stop stealing and leave, and I won't have to take you out of here like kitty litter that's been used."

"Maid's got a set of cat puns and thinks she's the top kitty of the house," the woman said with a smile before adding, "That is an entertaining notion, though you don't look like you have much in the way of muscle to force me out of here, girl."

I smiled, holding on to the tree harder as I prepared for what was about to be some sort of combat. "Power levels are overrated, Miss Cat-Girl. Technique is more important."

"I'm a cat burglar, not a cat-girl," the woman said, annoyed. "And to be more exact, my name is Catwoman."

"Oh, so you're anxious about the fact that you're a cat-girl and decided to go by woman. How innovative," I said matter-of-factly, which seemed to set her off. She reached for the belt around her waist, grabbed it, pulled it free, and revealed it to be a whip.

There was a snapping sound as it hit the ground next to her, and then she attempted to whip me.

I raised the silver tray and caught the attack, the force of the strike being nullified. My eyes caught the fact that the whip was just leather—no extra barbs or anything at the end of it—which meant I was easily able to grab hold of it and whip it around my arm, pulling her away from the artifact and towards me by two feet. She regained more control over her own footing and attempted to pull me back, but I held on tightly.

"Impressive, you've got some moves, and you're able to hold your own," Catwoman said, giving a good tug on the whip as I tugged back.

"Let's just say I'm used to combat, and this... this is combat," I pulled hard, trying to yank her towards me. She held tight to her position, which meant we were in a tug-of-war with no definite winner becoming apparent in the first few minutes.

"I don't have time for this," Catwoman said, dropping the tug-of-war and just charging at me. Her clawed hand came for my face, but using my other hand still holding the tray, I blocked it, the metal bending from the sharp claws trying to puncture through it. Pulling up my nails, I freed my other hand, still wrapped around the rope. I sucked her in with a chin strike, causing her to step back and shake her head in confusion.

I didn't give her a moment to rest, bringing the metal tray in front of my left hook and smacking her face, causing her to back up even more. Using my right arm, I pulled the whip towards me. She still held on tight—must not want to lose it in case there's any DNA evidence, I thought—or maybe she was just very determined not to lose her things. Either way, she was off-balance, and so she was pulled towards me. I was able to smack her in the head with my forehead. Not the wisest move, simply because I was made a little unsteady as she fell backward, rolling into a crouched position, one hand planted into the ground while the other still held on to the whip.

She smiled as she looked up at me, her mask having fallen down, allowing me to see that her face was visible. "Well, Kitty's got claws. Not only that, she's got more determination to serve her boss than most maids I've run into," she joked. I think. She moved a little too fluidly in that downward position. Something was off about this chick, and I wasn't sure what. At that moment, I wanted to ask BnX if this was a real cat-girl, but at the same time, I didn't want to find out. I'd already almost been turned into a woman-bad. I didn't need the possibility of being turned into a girl-cat.

Catwoman made one more move to the left before stopping and looking past me, confused. That either meant someone was there or she was trying to trick me. Instead of taking my eyes off of her, I hopped to the right, giving her a bit of an escape path if she chose to leave. But I didn't think she would, not without her prize. That gave me the ability to see what was there.

"Well, if this isn't my favorite maid…" a familiar dark seductress voice rang out as Nocturne stepped into the room, her hand resting on her chin, the other arm crossed beneath her breasts. "I was thinking I would have to find some other way to separate you, so that I can make you mine," she mused, looking at me with a look that sent a shiver down my back.

"Is this a friend of yours?" Catwoman asked, and I turned toward her in surprise, saying, "I was going to ask you that. You're both thieves."

"Now, now, that's hurtful," Nocturne said, putting her hand on her chest. "Plus, underworld types don't know everyone in the entire underworld," she added, putting on theatrics about her being hurt.

Catwoman tilted her head before saying, "Hey, wait a minute. You're that chick who's been trying to muscle in on some of the mob territories, aren't you? The one who's claiming that she can turn people into undead servants?"

The woman smiled before saying, "Claiming is a big word. The real answer is I can have enough women under my control. Could be interesting," she said, scratching her chin. Catwoman looked to me, and I looked to her. She smiled, saying, "211 odds sound pretty good, don't you think?"

I smiled back. "If you can keep up, it's two-on-one. Otherwise, I think it's one and one-half."

"Ha! What a bitch," Catwoman said before turning and charging at Nocturne. Her fist flew fast, like a martial artist, claws tearing at her as Nocturne used her nocturnal powers to move through the darkness, avoiding the worst of it. I was a bit slower, calculating her moves, before moving forward with my silver tray and smacking the back of her head when she least expected it, as she was too focused on Catwoman. There was a "bong" noise and a sizzling sound, followed by a scream.

Nocturne turned and dodged from where she'd been hit, now off in a corner as she felt the back of her head. I looked at the silver tray and noticed I'd burned away a bit of skin and hair when it hit her.

"I thought silver only worked on werewolves," Catwoman asked.

I shrugged before saying, "Maybe she's not really a vampire and there's some sort of mutated werewolf."

"I am not turned off," she said, her voice growing darker and angrier. She seemed to grow by a whole foot over us. "And I'm going to rip you two apart and put you back together again however I feel."

"Oh, now you're stealing from Frankenstein," Catwoman said with a laugh, which seemed to piss Nocturne off even more as she charged at us, her two hands turning into more screwed-up claws than human instruments of control.

Catwoman dodged left, I dodged right, and the whip we were still holding between us turned into an elongated cord, causing us to clothesline Nocturne by the neck. There was a choking sound as she stumbled back. I moved in and smashed her again on the side of the head with the silver tray. A sizzling sound and another scream followed as I pulled it away, ripping off a quarter of her face, revealing spurting blood and living tissue underneath.

"Fuck, are you?" I said, only to have her attempt to throw her clawed hand into my gut. I was only saved by Catwoman yanking the whip and pulling me out of the way before she kicked off the pedestal that held the cat statue and charged, face clawed hand first into Nocturne's face, embedding her claws into her skull. She brought back her left hand, still holding the whip, and smashed it hard into the open wound, bringing another scream from Nocturne.

"My love," came a voice, and the doorway burst open. Thief of Night, still in that damn gym suit of his, stepped into the room. He looked at Nocturne and immediately charged at Catwoman. I did her a favor and pulled hard on the whip, drawing her out of the way before bringing back the silver tray and throwing it like a discus right into the head of Thief of Night. There was a subtle but enjoyable crunching noise as I think I damaged his ocular bone when it hit the side of his head. He let out a noise of pain and brought up his left hand to that side of his head.

He turned to look at me, though I couldn't see his face. I could see the resonating anger off of him.

"You'll pay for what you've done to my love. I'll skin you two alive and bleed you out in the sun."

"That won't be happening," came a new voice as Batman stepped into the room.

"Oh, shit. Look, Goody Two-Shoes is here," Catwoman said, sounding annoyed, as she looked at me. "If you let go of my whip, I'm not going to get to steal anything. That guy's not going to let me do it, and I've got to get running."

I looked down at my hand and considered it. On one hand, criminal. On the other, we had just taken down Nocturna. I let her go this time. I released my grip, and she immediately pulled the whip back, quickly wrapping it around her waist and giving a nod to Batman.

"All yours, Mr. Dark and Handsome," she said, letting out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr as she walked past him.

"The police will be here in three minutes, Catwoman. Do yourself a favor and don't try to steal anything on the way out," Batman said, which she simply waved off without even turning back. "I know, I know."

Batman turned to me. "Insane, Miss Pennyworth. I thought you were going to avoid any more problems."

I shrugged and pointed at Nocturna and Thief of the Night with both hands. "Problems find me. I'm not that lucky."

"I swear…" Batman cracked a smile before his grin returned to a subtle, emotionless look. He nodded and waved toward the door. "I can handle it from here. You've done a good job. I'll just bring down Thief of the Night, and these two will go where they belong."

"That's what you think," the gimp suit said, charging at Batman, his face trying to pummel a hole through his head. I could say that with some certainty as his face went through the door jamb that had just been there a moment before. Batman simply dodged Thief of the Night and smacked the back of his head with a palm strike so hard that he seemed to lose consciousness for a moment.

He followed that up by grabbing Thief of the Night's head and slamming it hard into what was left of the door jamb. The man went boneless and fell to the floor before Batman turned on Nocturna, who was using her clawed hands to pull herself back up into a standing position.

"I won't let you send me to jail. You can't put someone as beautiful as me in jail."

"From what I understand, you won't be going to jail," Batman said coldly. "You'll be going to Arkham's new wing for the criminally insane and altered—maybe because of Killer Croc's escape."

"No!" she said in a rough voice, charging at Batman. He made taking her down look like child's play—so fast I'm not even sure I caught exactly what happened. Some real martial arts bullshit out of Dragon Ball Z, as far as I was concerned.

Either way, Nocturna fell to the floor next to Thief of the Night. Batman indicated that I could leave, smiling. I nodded, shaking my head.

"Thanks for the save. Got to go tell Bruce Wayne about this."

"He's aware," Batman said with a wave of his hand. "He's currently trying to get people out of the building in case the fight got out of hand."

"A good man," I said before leaving the room, hoping to get as far away as possible in case things escalated or the cops showed up to start asking questions. I'd been interviewed by the cops enough for a year. In my mind, if I could avoid giving another interview, it would save me a lot of trouble.