Tut The Magnificent

Tut The Magnificent... Prologue and Part I

Tut the Magnificent...

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place legendary vigilante/hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Prologue and Part I...

Four years previous...

The tall dark-skinned woman in jeans not exactly fitting and loose yellow blouse emerged slowly from the little car she'd reluctantly pulled over to the side of the (reasonably) main street of Hamilton, Gotham State. A few bystanders briefly eyeing her from the sidewalk while keeping back from the scene.

"Hands where we can see 'em!" a young female police officer, gun drawn, her male partner just exiting their car to join her, commanded.

"It's cool..." the woman raised her hands. "What's goin' on, sister?" she eyed the policewoman, rather lovely if professional-looking, hair tightly bunned, steady gaze on her with gun held firmly.

All business this one, Daneil reflected.

"Turn around, hands on the car!" the policewoman commanded.

"Or what, you shoot me, sister?" Daneil asked, but compiled, turning and putting hands on the car.

"Just do it!" the officer insisted, her companion now moving to Daneil and beginning to frisk her...

"Hey! What'd I do?! I wasn't speedin'..."

"She's unarmed. Daneil Moura Freedmont, you are under arrest." The male officer informed her. "You have the right to remain silent..." he began, cuffing her hands behind her back as he did so.

"Fuck that shit!" Daneil fumed, twisting a bit. "You're hurtin' me. I don't know who that bitch is, look at my license..."

"Do not move!" the policewoman commanded sternly, maintaining her position and aim, while speaking periodically into her radio.

"Come on, man..." Daneil tried again. "Just look at..."

"Turn around." The male officer ordered, she turning to face him.

Not bad...She gave him a bit of a smile, then glared. "You got the wrong girl, bro. Come on, look at my license."

"You're under arrest, Ms. Freedmont..." the policewoman noted. "I've called it, Sid." She addressed the male policeman who nodded. "Where's the license?" she addressed Daneil who considered...

If they believed it or got distracted...Might just be a chance...

"In my wallet, in the car...I was gettin' it."

"Stolen, with the car." The policewoman, calmly. "Ok, put her in, Sid and I'll take a look. Yes, subject is secured..." she addressed the phone in answer to a query.

"In...Ma'am." Sid had led Daneil to the police car, opening the rear passenger door.

"This is so much shit..." Daneil fumed. "I'll sue your asses off! Police brutality!" But went in, sitting...

"Carrie Maxwell, the owner..." the policewoman had emerged from the car, holding license. "You took a nice photo, 'Ms. Maxwell', you look twenty pounds lighter and at least five years younger."

"Rude shit to boot..." Daneil glared, with reason given she was in fact only a year older than the actual licensee. "That's me, Ms. Maxwell..." emphasis on the "Ms.".

"First name?" the officer asked.

"Carrie, like you said..."

"That's Ms. Maxwell's middle name, 'Deborah'..." smile. "Come on, lets get her in, Sid. They'll take care of the vehicle."