The Isley mansion was located on the other side of the city, across the Gotham River. Why any kid would want to make the miles-long journey to it puzzled Barbara. She could only imagine how they must have felt crossing the corroded bridge on their bikes, only a strong gust of wind away from the murky depths below.
Or maybe they took the subway that ran through the underwater tunnels. But even then, the thought of the subzero water pouring through the cracks in the concrete was not any more comforting.
Keeping her gaze on the bridge stretched before her, Barbara strained to see what was on the other side of the endless white fog that covered it. Its cables seemed to sway over the dark water, not enough to cause worry but enough to imagine them suddenly snapping loose. Much like the rest of the city's crumbling infrastructure, the bridge didn't fare much better.
In the rearview mirror, she could see the city's skyline against a backdrop of looming clouds. She had never known the true definition of the color gray before coming to Gotham. Even in the day, it looked like a city perpetually stuck in the apocalypse with its colorless, archaic buildings and equally colorless skies.
As the forest around them became denser and the buildings in between more scarce, it wasn't long before they arrived at the Isley mansion. She must have dozed off somewhere down the road since the next thing she saw was at one time, one of the most beautiful and elegant estates in Gotham, now darkened and weathered from years of neglect. Although it was nowhere in the state it had once been in, its sheer size was enough to take Barbara's breath away. To a city kid like her, it looked like something out of a forgotten painting with its lush forests of evergreen trees and red oaks.
"Well, here it is." Officer Bard pointed to the mansion in the distance. "See? Not really that exciting—" He startled at the sound of the passenger door opening. "Barbara? What are you doing?"
"I'm going to go inside." She peered back at him. "Now, if you could help me into my wheelchair."
His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "Are you serious? That's breaking and entering! I'll lose my job if someone sees us!"
"I never said you were going in with me. I'm not stupid, and I would never put your job on the line." She started to reach for her wheelchair. "If you're not going to help me, then I'll do it myself."
"Don't be ridiculous, Barbara!" He climbed out of the car and ran to her side. "I can't let you go in by yourself!"
"Then I guess you're going to be breaking the law." She shrugged. "It's either that or you wait out here and keep watch."
He let out an exasperated sigh. "Barbara..."
"Look, if I don't come back in like thirty minutes, call for backup. Tell them I broke in."
Pressing his lips together, Officer Bard remained silent for a few seconds before finally giving in. "All right, fine." He took out the wheelchair and unfolded it for her. "You really are your father's daughter. God knows when he makes up his mind there's no use changing it."
Barbara beamed up at him, her heart fluttering at the compliment. "Thanks."
"Thirty minutes, okay?" He warned after helping her into the chair. "Trust me, I will call your dad and have the entire GCPD over here."
"I know, I know." Barbara waved him off. As she rolled through the lawn that resembled more of a field, she heard the sharp cawing of a crow from somewhere in the distant trees. Looking around for any signs of movement, she failed to notice the rock hidden in the overgrown grass and was almost lurched off her wheelchair.
"Damn it," she cursed under her breath. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. If she couldn't even make it past the lawn, how could she navigate an abandoned, decaying mansion? But before she could even think about turning back, a sudden movement near the porch caught her eye. It looked to be a figure in a trench coat and a baseball cap. But whether it was a man or woman, she couldn't tell. Until it spoke.
"Barbara!" He waved a gloved hand to her.
"Richard?" She squinted. He lifted his cap slightly, confirming his identity. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought you might come by here." He walked towards her before coming to a stop a few feet away. "And it turns out I was right."
Barbara peered to the side, seeing the speck that was Officer Bard. Could he not see what was happening? "Okay, but why did you have to come here?"
The grin he had been wearing only grew wider. "Well, from the looks of it, you need me here. You could barely make it through the grass, much less this old place."
A burning warmth crept over Barbara's cheeks, but whether it was due to her embarrassment or anger, she did not know. She hated to admit it, but he was right. She needed his help. But she wasn't going to let him know that. He was already cocky enough as it was. "Well, it would be much safer to go in with someone else."
Nodding his head, Richard went behind her and began pushing her towards the front door. When he came to the porch, Barbara figured he would struggle to lift her up onto it, but much to her surprise, he did it as if she weighed nothing at all. No groaning, no panting, nothing.
"How did you—" She whipped her head around, too befuddled to speak. "How could you—"
Richard smirked. "Don't judge a book by its cover." He motioned with his hand for Barbara to go inside. "After you."
With a loud huff, Barbara grabbed the rose-shaped door handle and gave it a hard push. Like nails on a chalkboard, the door creaked back, giving way much easier than she had expected. Starting to roll inside, Barbara turned back and saw Richard standing on the porch as if he were rooted there.
"Aren't you coming inside?"
He shifted on his feet, almost as if he were debating if he should or not. "Are you sure?"
"Uh, yeah!" Barbara furrowed her brows together. "That's the whole point, right? You come inside with me for safety?"
A look of relief washed over his face as he stepped inside. "You really don't want to admit you need help, do you?"
"Just do what you're supposed to and maneuver me," Barbara snapped, thankful the darkness shrouded her reddening face.
"Yes, ma'am!" He grabbed the back of her wheelchair and began pushing her through what looked to be the lobby. But because of the minimal light coming from the open door and the overall decay of the place, it was hard to say.
Although there were no signs of graffiti—unlike everywhere else in the city—a thick layer of dust and ivy coated the overturned and broken furniture. In fact, almost everything had been overtaken by the plant. The once decorative walls were hardly visible because of the bramble of vines now clustered over them. Long branches of the climbing plant crept across the staircase and up the banister, twisting and tangling with one another. The crystal-glass chandelier that once hung from the ceiling laid on the floor, smashed into shards, and replaced by a thick garland of ivy. Even the floors were not spared, having been invaded by both ivy and fallen leaves.
"So where do you want to start first?" Richard glanced around at what remained of the Isley mansion.
"I don't know..." Barbara knew mansions were supposed to be huge. It was kind of part of the definition. But this place was enormous, nothing like anything Barbara had ever seen before, much less been in. And with no elevator in sight, that meant upstairs would probably be off-limits. "Let's try the living room."
"Don't know where that is, but sounds good." Turning her to the right, Richard pushed her through the gaping entryway. A hushed silence fell between the pair with only the occasional squeak of Barbara's wheels as they turned over the floorboards, threatening to bust through the rotting wood and send her falling to the ground.
As they moved further into the room, all traces of light vanished, leaving them in complete darkness. "I can't see," Barbara whispered, more to herself than to the boy behind her.
"Hold on." Immediately, the darkness was ripped away as Richard pulled back a heavy drape from the window.
"Thanks..." Barbara started to say before she caught a glimpse of the portrait hanging over the fireplace. What she saw was enough to make her gasp.
"No... That can't be..." She inched closer to the portrait, unable to take her eyes off the woman's perfect porcelain face. Although she was in an outdated emerald gown and her hair was styled much shorter, Barbara knew all too well who this was. From the same shade of red hair down to the same shade of green eyes, there was no mistake about it. The woman in the painting was Pamela Isley.
But that was not what turned Barbara's blood to ice. No, it was the date painted at the bottom right-hand corner. 1927.
"Over fifty-four years ago." Barbara turned away from the woman's wide-eyed, innocent gaze. "But that's impossible!"
It had to be a coincidence, some other explanation. There was just no way this was the same woman. How could it be? Maybe there was something else in this mansion that could explain what was going on... something that would make sense.
"Barbara, where are you going?" A pair of blue eyes gleamed from a dark corner.
"I'm going to try to find out who this is!" From underneath her, the floorboards creaked and groaned as she rolled herself out through a second door located on the opposite end.
"Barbara..." Richard's voice dropped to a hiss. "Don't go that way."
"Why not? There might be something over here—"
"NO! Don't go that way!"
But it was too late. The sweet, metallic stench hit Barbara as soon as she entered the hallway, bringing tears to her eyes and stinging her nostrils. Gagging, she brought the sleeve of her jacket up to her mouth. "Oh, God," she choked out through thick, putrid air. "What—What the hell is that?"
As if to answer her, the ominous sound of something plopping into a filled tub echoed through the hall.
Drip.
It was coming from the side of her. Right inside the next room.
Drip.
Her mind screamed at her to turn back. She knew what it was. She didn't need to see it to know this was the smell of death.
Drip.
Yet, a part of her wanted to see. If this were really a crime scene, she would never get another chance. All she needed to do was roll inside...
A pair of hands suddenly yanked her wheelchair from behind and turned her around, away from the incessant dripping.
"Hey! What are you doing?" Barbara demanded as she was jerked forward at an unnatural speed.
"We need to get out of here."
Alarmed by the severity of his tone, she glanced up at him. His typical cheery gaze was fixed into a glare, and a deep grimace replaced the smile that seemed to be a permanent feature on his face. For a moment, Barbara even thought she saw his usual blue eyes flash a bright red.
With a shudder, Barbara turned her head back around and clutched her armrests. From around her, the vine-covered walls blurred together with the upturned furniture as they raced back to the front door. In a matter of seconds, they were back outside on the porch. Back in the light.
Blinking, Barbara's eyes struggled to adjust against the sudden change in brightness. But as soon as they did, she lurched herself off the porch, nearly tumbling out of the chair. She knew she shouldn't have done that. She could have seriously injured herself. Yet, at that moment, falling was the least of her worries. All she cared about was getting as far away from this place as possible.
Barbara rolled as fast as she could towards the parked police car, forgetting all about Richard. She never thought she would be so relieved to see the dingy blue and white GCPD car, but at that moment, it had never looked more beautiful.
"Officer Bard!" she wheezed, taking in deep breaths of the fresh, clean air. "Officer Bard!"
The driver's door opened in an instant. From the top of it, Officer Bard's face peeked out. "Barbara?"
She must have looked absolutely terrified since he immediately came running to her, thankfully meeting her halfway across the lawn. "Barbara? What's wrong?" He grabbed a firm hold of her by the shoulders.
"I—I think there's a dead body in there..." Barbara stared at the black Converse laced on her feet.
He startled backward. "What?"
"I didn't see it, but the smell... It had to be a dead body." Her eyes flickered up to Officer Bard's worried ones.
"I knew coming here was a bad idea." He wrapped a hand around her back, guiding her back towards the car. "Come on, let's get you home."
Barbara nodded. "Yeah, I should've listened to you. I should've listened to Richard too. I shouldn't have gone in there."
Officer Bard paused. "Richard? Who's that?"
"Richard. Bruce Wayne's son." Barbara could tell the officer had no idea who she was talking about. "Look, he's back there on the porch—"
Barbara turned to look, finding no one there, but the ruined remnants of what had once been the great Isley mansion.
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