Chapter 1: The Bakery Job, Part 1

Most people feared the night in Gotham City. Civilians feared the strange assortment of criminals that operated at night, and criminals were afraid of who—or what—might be watching them in the darkness as they did their work. Dotty thought that Gotham could be beautiful at night. As she looked out the painted front windows of The Cake Lair, the bakery she worked at, she could see the light evaporate from Gotham's polluted, red skies to reveal a night sky as deep and still as dark pool. In a few minutes a full white moon would illuminate the many windows of the city's many skyscrapers. A few stars might even manage to shine through the city lights. It was warm enough for the people in the bakery to walk back outside with their coats slung over their arms, and Dotty could picture them going to the park to meet their sweethearts or riding down the street in a friend's car with all the windows rolled down. That was the Gotham that Dotty tried to see at night.

Dotty looked to the clock above the door. It was a quarter past eight. In less than two hours she could go back to her apartment. Until then, she had cupcakes to frost. Dotty was the only one at the bakery, besides Bernice, who managed the bakery for her father, who could frost a cupcake properly. That, and she liked to put sayings on the cupcakes. When she wasn't working at the bakery, she was a comedian. At least, that was what she wanted to be. So far, the Cake Lair was what was paying her bills.

"Excuse me," said a voice. Dotty looked up. A lanky man in a tweed suit was standing at the counter in front of her.

"How can I help you?" asked Dotty.

"I was wondering, Dorothy, that's your name right?" Dotty pointed to the name tag on her blouse and nodded.

"I've seen you here before," said the man.

"Yeah, I've been working here for a few years," said Dotty. She'd seen the man in the bakery before too. For the past two weeks, he'd come in every night to have coffee and read his book. He even sat at the same table, when it was available. Dotty was starting to think that he had O.C.D.

"I was wondering, Dorothy, if…I could have a one of those?" The man pointed to the plate of cupcakes. Dotty handed one to him, and watched him withdraw back to his seat.

"Oh, he's here again?"

Dotty turned around. A slight blonde woman with red cat's eye glasses stood behind her. A flour streaked apron with the bakery's name on it was thrown over an unfashionable outfit consisting of sailor pants, a jersey blouse, and oxfords. She was pretty, but always managed to look just wrong for every occasion.

"He comes in here all the time, Johanna," said Dotty.

"I think he keeps coming for the service," said Johana, wagging her eyebrows under her glasses. "He definitely doesn't keep coming for the coffee."

Dotty tilted her head in the man's direction. She thought she saw him look away from her and Johanna.

"What gives you that impression?" she asked sarcastically.

"He's kind of cute. Why don't you go over there and ask him his name? Make it easier on him."

"I'm not really in the mood," said Dotty, walking back to the kitchen. Johanna followed her.

"Come on Dotty, when you're not working at the bakery you're out auditioning. And when you're not out auditioning you're at home writing jokes. When was the last time you went out and had any fun?"

"Comedy is fun," said Dotty. She kept her back to Johanna and pretended to go over inventory in the fridge.

"I'm just saying that you need to try to do something outside of work, sometime. I know this is cliché, but you're only young once."

Dotty closed the fridge. "Johanna, listen—"

"Hey, guys?" Dotty and Johanna turned to face Bernice. Bernice was only twenty-two, three years younger than Johanna and Dotty, but she was a good boss, even though she rarely moved away from the ovens.

"Yes?" said Dotty.

"Has Alex come back from that delivery yet?" asked Bernice.

"No, how long has he been gone?" asked Dotty.

"Over an hour," said Bernice. "I've tried calling him twice."

"Try calling him again," said Dotty. "If he doesn't answer, I'll go out and look for him."

"Okay," said Bernice, turning away from them.

"Hey, Bernice," said Dotty. Bernice stopped.

"I wouldn't get too worried yet. You know how Alex is, if he's delivering to a pretty face, we might not see him again till next Monday."

Bernice smiled. "True," she said, on her way out of the kitchen.

"Do you really think he's all right?" asked Johanna.

Dotty shrugged. Alex was only nineteen, still just a kid, and in a place like Gotham some whack job could mug have mugged him, murdered him, and disposed of his body in less than an hour. But Dotty didn't like to assume to worst, and she didn't think there was any point in worrying Johana or Bernice either.

"You know, Dotty, I bet the tweed guy is getting low on coffee by now," said Johanna.

"Johanna, let it go," said Dotty. "I don't even have time to date right now. You know that comedy club I was telling you about the other day? They want me to prepare an original sketch for them—a good one—and I've got nothing. I've gone dry."

"You know, for a comedian, you take things awfully serious."

"This is serious. I've been working at this for years, and I'm just now looking at steady gig. Like you said, I'm only young once, and if I don't start working harder I could miss my chance," said Dotty.

"You just need to loosen up a little. You know, I've always thought you that you came up your best material when you weren't trying so hard," said Johanna. "And like I said, the tweed guy probably needs coffee." She picked up a coffee pot. "It won't kill you to ask him his name."

"You know, Johanna, sometimes you actually make a good point," said Dotty taking the coffee pot. "It won't kill me at all."

The sounds of gunshots suddenly filled the bakery.

"What the heck is going on?" yelled Johanna, running out the kitchen.

"Wait, don't run towards it!" yelled Dotty, running after her.

The customers in the bakery were either frozen in their seats or huddled under their tables. Bernice was standing behind the counter, phone in hand, and her arm crooked. The device had only made it half-way to her ear before three thugs in black had burst into the bakery and started shooting at the ceiling. One of them pointed his gun at Bernice.

"You!" he yelled. "Drop the phone!"

Bernice's shoulders started to shake.

"I said, drop. The. Phone!"

Dotty grabbed the phone out of Bernice's hand and threw it on the ground. She watched the phone case break off and skid under the counter. She suddenly felt numb and apathetic to what was happening, as if she were just watching a robbery scene in a move. Sluggishly she thought, who would rob a bakery?

"Ahem!"

The room seemed to get quieter as the attention turned from the gunmen to the figure standing in the doorway. Johanna grabbed Dotty by the arm.

"Dotty," she whispered.

A broad-brimmed hat cast a shadow over the face of the man in the doorway. His skin was so white that it could have belonged to a corpse, his eyes were yellow and sunken into his head, like a snake's, and blood red lips framed a wide, malicious smile. In one hand the man held a gun. In the other, he held pie.

"Excuse me, but which one of you ladies is the manager? I would like to make a complaint."