Out of the Belfry, into the Fire

Thrill and Tingles

"I still can't believe you're entertaining the idea," said Pierce. "Remember the Penguin."

"Of course, I remember," retorted Ronnie. "It was your idea."

"Remember that Worry Men carver."

"To be fair, he was mind-controlled by the Mad Hatter," said Ronnie. "Everyone who reads the common paper knows that."

"And that makes it better? Really, Ronnie. Think about this reasonably. This Harley Quinzel, or whatever she calls herself, had you at gunpoint before. She kidnapped you on her first day out of actually being released from that lax institution. I still can't understand for the life of me why you dropped the charges. It probably would have kept her in Arkham a lot longer."

"Pierce," said Ronnie sharply as she turned around.

They were in the Vreeland's luxurious home. The autumn leaves outside the window were red, orange, and golden to the most pristine from some of the most well-nurtured trees in Gotham. It was just cool enough outside to have the antique and well-kept fireplace crackling low just for the sake of it.

Ronnie thought of a lot of haughty things she could say to Pierce. Some of them were not becoming of her good grooming either, but in all the uncharitable things she could say, she knew that none of them would make her anything more than a hypocrite. That was because anything she could accuse him of, she could easily accuse herself of. She rolled her eyes with a huff. Then digressed.

"Don't you ever get sick of being the jewels behind the case?" asked Ronnie, leaning back against a leisurely daybed.

She glanced out the window only briefly as though to make her point about that glass case.

"Oh, now you're a philosopher too, are you?" said Pierce.

"I mean it," Ronnie insisted. "Of course, I remember how many times we've been violated by psychopaths, and of course, I remember just as equally how many times we had to be rescued like a sack of jewels to be returned to the estate, and Pierce—! I think you're just as tired of it as I am."

"What about all the charities you fund," said Pierce glancing at his nails absently. "After all, you just had a great success with that one for abandoned children in Gotham this August. I think you're justified."

"But do we really fund these things for the charity or just to show off?"

"Does it matter? You still raised more money than the goal," said Pierce.

"It matters to me," said Veronica. "And you know, I have been thinking really hard about all this. Daddy fought and so should I."

"Ronnie..."

"I know someone in Gotham is funding Batman," said Ronnie. "There's no way he can have all those things he does without a patron of some kind. Maybe more than one. Several! And I'm kept out of that loop."

"Then give money to the police department with the purpose of helping to fund Batman," said Pierce.

"They won't do that," said Veronica sternly. "I'm going to really do something right for once. I'm going to help Batman by helping one of his old enemies help him, and also by helping someone whose life was on the wrong side of the tracks in a way that you can't possibly understand."

"Neither can you, dear," replied Pierce, "and be thankful you can't."

"She'll go crazy again if she can't do something worthwhile to make up for her past," Veronica went on, "You can't change my mind."

"You're father might."

Ronnie made a most pitiful face even if there was a sense of, "you wouldn't dare" flickering like fire behind her ever-lively emerald eyes. It was more the pitiful look than the fire that got to Pierce, though. He knew she was only a silly child, but he could not quite bring himself to tattle on her. He never could with his little cousin.