Meryl, the steam-punk-emo-goth chick with a painted smile across her face, stepped in front of a rowdy crowd in the abandoned warehouse where they'd been meeting off and on for two years. Each time that they did, it'd always be a riot. They'd play clips of Jerome Valeska, recite his every line. How they'd mourned together at the news of his death, and when he'd returned, what a celebration it turned out to be! -- till the crooks at the G.C.P.D put him away again, of course. But they knew Jerome was going to be held back by bars. The man was a legend in more ways than one. And as predicted, Jerome escaped from Arkham during the recent break out. Meryl had called for the emergency meeting immediately - where something like fifty people turned up. And in unison, the followers of Jerome decided to hunt the city for their leader.
"Don't give up hope!" cried Meryl into the loudhailer to loud applause. "He's out there, somewhere. Out of reach of the cops, plotting his next move."
"Jerome is king!" yelled a voice in the crowd, to hoots and hollers.
"We will keep searching, and we will defend Jerome Valeska to the death!" Meryl waited for another round of applause to her charge, but a hushed silence moved through the crowd like a wave.
That was when she noticed the crowd slowly parting, much like Moses parted the Red Sea. There were gasps and sounds of sobbing, some of the members falling to their knees. In the middle of the crowd walked a man dressed up in Jerome garb... no... it was Jerome himself! Meryl fell to her knees like the others, she began sobbing uncontrollably. Life had been so dull without news of Jerome Valeska loose on the streets, making fools of the cops with his usual artistic flair. Jerome had become the soul of Gotham, the great smile in the darkness. And now, the man himself graced them with his presence.
Jerome had a large grin on his stitched up face, greeting his awestruck followers with child-like waves of his own. He made his way up to the makeshift stage, and took the microphone from a sobbing Meryl. "My dear dear dear followers," he said in that ever familiar voice. The thunderous cheer that followed could've rocked the entire building. But Jerome, in all his humility, waved down the commotion before speaking again. "I heard you were looking for me." They cheered again. But Jerome didn't wave them down a second time. "Shut up!" he yelled, and apart from some scattered laughter, the commotion died down much quicker than the first time. "Hm... So I might actually have a job for you guys."
"Anything for you king Jerome!" came a shout from the back of the crowd, to great agreement.
"That's good to hear," he replied. "The thing is, I'd like you to raid the G.C.P.D and pull the security tapes from the Arkham breakout. I want to know the identity of the man who broke into my cell." He looked down at Meryl. "And I'd like you to come with me to meet two friends of mine."
"I love you Jerome, thank you for choosing me," said Meryl between sobs.
"Yeah yeah yeah..." he said clapping his hands twice. "Well, chop chop, we don't have a lot of time."
The evening of the same day Bruce got himself discharged from Gotham General, he had Alfred drive him to the address of the Welkin household. It was in a respectable neighborhood in the suburbs of Gotham - not quite as luxurious as his own, but with its own grocery shop, high school and playground, wasn't too shabby either.
A middle-aged woman came to the door, wrapped in a shawl. "Yes?"
"Mrs. Welkin," Bruce reached out to her, and she met him in a handshake. "My name is Bruce Wayne. I'd like to ask you a few questions about your husband, if you don't mind?"
"What? Of Wayne Enterprises?" she said, surprised. She tightened the shawl around her shoulders, and swept the stray hair away from her face in a feeble attempt to be slightly more presentable. "You should've called. I'm a mess!" She laughed bashfully.
"Mrs. Welkin, there really is no need. And I'm sorry I didn't call beforehand. There's something very urgent I need to discuss with you."
"Oh yes! Sorry for my manners," she moved aside. "Please come in and make yourself at home."
As Bruce entered the house, he gave a reassuring nod to Alfred who continued to stand by the car. Alfred had wanted to follow, but Bruce would not allow it. Alfred had reluctantly relented. He knew that Bruce was growing into a man, and would need him less and less - it didn't stop him from worrying about him constantly as though he were his very own son.
Mrs. Welkin's living room was spacious and thoughtfully designed. Every piece of furniture matching the next, not to mention the wall to wall coverage of bookshelves filled with books. Bruce moved to her rose lined linen sofa and took a seat.
"Let me make you some tea or coffee, which would you prefer Mr Wayne?"
"Really, there is no need," insisted Bruce. Her hospitality was much appreciated but he wanted to get down to business as soon as possible. "Please sit with me, if you wouldn't mind?"
She seemed a little conflicted between being a good host and adhering to his wishes, but she finally decided to sit next to him.
"I'm sorry for the intrusion Mrs. Welkin. I've just been doing some research on your husband, Mr. Welkin, and discovered that he's been missing since a year ago."
The woman nodded soberly. "I lodged a report to the G.C.P.D but apparently there was some odd record of him purchasing a ticket to Columbia, and a really suspicious deposit of fifty-thousand dollars into his private bank account. After a moderately short investigation, the G.C.P.D decided that Harold must've had some financial dealings that got him into trouble and fled the country to avoid facing the consequences. But that's impossible! Harold's never been that irresponsible. He's also never told me a thing about any suspicious financial deal - nor has he ever been to any part of South America. It's just not like him. Harold's always been an avid bookworm who's always loved the familiar, and never thought much of risk-taking. He loved his research, said he wished the world took more time to learn about the world they lived in."
"Do you know what he was researching right before his disappearance?"
"The Gotham quake of 1728, he was on television..."
"Yes, I saw him then," Bruce chimed in. "He seemed very certain about his convictions of a quake occurring in the near future that might devastate the city."
Mrs. Welkin nodded. "The ground beneath Gotham has become increasingly unstable. If you weren't aware, about seventy percent of Gotham is built over ancient swampland. Harold always believed it was very irresponsible of the city planners to construct skyscrapers on land that might not be able to bear the weight. In the realm of architecture, every possibility has to be meticulously calculated and evaluated. With an abundance of overweight structures sitting on already unstable land, it might only take a tectonic shift from a distance away to sink the entire city."
"Was Dr. Welkin able to predict the next tectonic shift?"
Mrs. Welkin nodded, then excused herself to retrieve a calendar belonging to her husband. It had all kinds of scribbles of events and dates written all over it. Circles marked in red and black. She pointed out a span of seven days underlined in red. "That's when he thinks the next tectonic shift will be. It's a whole city away, but he thinks it might affect Gotham in a similar way that the shift hurt the early incarnation of the city."
Bruce took a look at the dates marked out. "But Mrs. Welkin, that's just a few days away."
"Exactly."
"And you aren't afraid? I see that there's nothing packed."
"Mr. Wayne," she said, putting a hand on his. "Harold's attempt to warn the city of impending doom was what I believe caused his disappearance. The media won't tell this part of the story, but I believe that there are evil people out there who will do everything to silence the truth-tellers. If Harold is gone, then the heralding of the quake is his legacy. I will sit in this very spot to see it come to fruition, and I will watch all those who silenced him get eclipsed by what is to come."
The woman spoke of a bleak future, and yet she seemed excited to relish in the deaths of those who might've gone against her husband, even if it'd mean the deaths of many more. "Who do you think would have reason to silence your husband?"
"For a start... the execs at the Gotham Broadcasting Station. They'd said they were very interested in Harold's research right after his live broadcast. He was so excited then, said that people were finally paying attention to him, and maybe something will finally be done to save Gotham. But it was that same week that he vanished and never came home again. A week after that, Sionis Design House announced yet another ambitious construction project. But I'm just sitting here thinking; who in the right mind would put money into any form of new construction in Gotham if Harold is indeed right?"
"Mrs. Welkin, do you remember who at the station in particular was in contact with him? Did you ever get a name?"
"Yes, Mr. Wayne," she replied with certainty. "A Mrs. Katherine Monroe."
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