The Odyssey || 𝗕𝗿𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗪𝗮𝘆𝗻𝗲

Ten | Odyssey

The Odyssey.

So she had a name.

Tony Spinelli, scared shitless, was going on and on about how she showed him the way.

He said that she was "the journey one took to find their true selves".

"Master Bruce." Alfred's voice rang from his com. "May I ask why you are lurking outside of Miss Jefferson's home?" It was obviously with reason, for Bruce was never an indecisive gentleman, but it concerned him as to why he was standing atop of the building, peering eerily through the penthouse sky window.

"Elizabeth Jefferson has a motive." He spoke dryly, disclosing the woman's full name to distance himself from the relationship they may or may not have had. The stakeout was on a strictly professional basis, there was no room for any type of personal feelings he had while working a case.

Especially not this one.

"Yes..." Alfred started slowly. "But do you really think that Miss Jefferson would have the..." He couldn't quite think of the correct word he wanted to use. "Eh...provocation...to commit such actions?"

Bruce had already considered that inquiry. Based on prior notes throughout the years, he'd noticed she wasn't easily off.

"...Anyone can be anything, Alfred." Anyone could be a criminal, regardless of heir prior behavior. He knew from experience. "She could just as easily be this...Odyssey Spinelli spoke of."

On the other side of the line, Alfred couldn't help but hum uneasily. Of course, he did not like the idea of her being a criminal. He didn't like the idea of anyone of her stature being a criminal.

The distinctive bell tone ring of the elevator dinged, catching his attention. He looked down through the glass at the large, rather white furnished room as she stepped out, pulling her now frizzy dark brown locks out of the ponytail. Evident from her attire, complete with a black Nike sports bra and black track compression leggings, she'd most likely just come from a workout.

As quietly as he could, he unlatched the window and slipped in, unnoticeable.

Elizabeth, still listening to a Depeche Mode song through her earbuds, opened her refrigerator for a bottle of water to first place upon her forehead, then open and drink from.

She'd just spent an hour and a half jogging through the outskirts of the bay to clear her head. He was on her mind again, like he always was.

He seemed to make life a problem for her, more often than not.

Turning around, she paused. The room from which she'd just come from, the lights were on.

The lights had mysteriously turned off.

Mercedes, her housekeeper, she wasn't working tonight.

Her breathing slowed as her heart rate sped up as she lowered the bottle in her hand and slowly pulled her wireless earbuds out.

"Miss Jefferson." She visibly jumped very lightly at the sound of his deep voice. He was somehow behind her.

She took a moment to slowly look over her shoulder to see him standing there, tall and menacing with his white eyes staring menacingly at her.

She'd never seen him before. When she'd come back to Gotham, she was incredulous of the news, and she thought even if it was true she would never see him in person.

The way he looked gave her a very sharp migraine she reacted to by slightly rolling her eyes and squeezing her eyes shut as the high pitched tone in her brain began to pass.

"What do you want." She inquired softly.

She looked a little shaken like she didn't know how to respond to his appearance, other than asking why. He could sense that she was maybe a little nervous.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He said dryly, which didn't quite help her case.

"Did my father send you?"

"I don't work with criminals." He responded, slightly narrowing his eyes. "I'm here to ask you a few questions."

Her lashes fluttered a little and she swallowed.

"You've been frequently met by a man named Seymour Bertolini." He started. "What does he want from you?"

"He's one of Falcone's lackeys." She shook her head. "My Father has been connected to him since before I was born, my father somehow keeps him out of prison as well." Her voice lowered as she looked down. "My father wants me to uphold the Jefferson legacy, which would require that I give in to funding the mob."

"And you said no."

She took a breath and looked back up. "Yes, I declined his request. What he stands for is not something that I'd want to be a part of."

"So he sends men to threaten you."

"The threats are empty. Nothing would ever change unless I was dead." She folded her arms. "And frankly, he hasn't got the balls." She muttered and looked away.

"Without you, the company would go public." He was beginning to piece together the public predicament that forced the war between Gotham's newest daughter and the worlds worst father.

"Probably better off that way." She looked back at him with a half careless shrug.

"Ms. Jefferson, there's been a string of arrests relating to members of the Falcone mob. Specifically, members tasked with intercepting you personally."

"And you're wondering if I have anything to do with their arrests?"

"Every one of them turned themselves in."

"...I apologize for my bluntness, but I don't see what any of this has to do with me."

"Where were you the night of July 16th?"

She only spared a moment to think back a little. "That was a Sunday, I was here at home on a conference call."

He narrowed his eyes. "And July 19th?"

"A company function." She replied with a certain amount of assuring in her voice.

She had multiple alibis.

"I doubt I'm the only individual with trouble concerning the Italian Mob." she shook her head.

"It's your timing that concerns me." He answered gruffly, an attitude shift occurring in the atmosphere. "These events didn't begin to occur until you returned to Gotham."

"Coincidence." She didn't appreciate the accusation, but in all honesty, he could tell that she was not one to argue.

He narrowed his eyes a bit further with a menacing depth of perception.

"I don't believe in coincidences."

She did not respond, but he watched her eyes widen a bit with a nervous kind of worry. And though it was strange, she still didn't seem obviously suspect like most suspects often did.

"This may not be you, but it is connected to you." He made it sound like a threat.

"Whether you are aware of it or not."

Her vitals didn't display any type of hostility. She seemed genuinely confused, a bit despondent, evident by the look on her face, but she wasn't...guilty.

She was caught in a shit-storm by affiliation.

As he turned to once again disappear into his cover of darkness, her voice, low and despondent, made him pause and turn his head with slight.

"This will be the death of us all."