Stranger in Town, 3/21 morning - Helena

[Bane]

Climbing the steps to the front doors of Gotham High School, it was with some effort that Benedict Dante resisted the temptation to look back over his shoulder. His Karma, $80,000 worth of sleek silver-grey sports car, was parked at the curb and had already attracted the attention of several nearby young men before he'd even turned the engine off. Granted, the sight of his bulk emerging from the driver's seat had given them visible pause, but he wasn't sure how much protection it would be.

Or whether protection was even necessary, he told himself. His entire experience of Gotham youth was the Goblins and other street kids. Car theft for fun or profit was an everyday occurrence for them. The 'normal' teenagers here were, presumably, different. Or so he'd been told. Never having been a 'normal' teenager himself, he didn't know what might be expected of them.

He also didn't know what might be expected of this place. High school was a completely foreign concept and he found himself with all senses alert as he passed through the portals. His nostrils flared, picking up a melange of smells from the slightly musty air. Industrial strength cleaner clashed with old cafeteria food. There was the vaguely plastic tang of paint where some tagging had been covered over. And, his lips twitched slightly with sardonic amusement, stale cigarette smoke crept beneath the door of a staff bathroom to mix with the flat herbal aroma of marijuana emanating from the student restroom across the way.

Overhead, a florescent light flickered, a pair down the hall having gone out entirely. He was a little early, but there was a scattering of students and teachers moving about. The metal doors of lockers clanged open and shut. Shoes variously clacked, squeaked, or clumped on the tile floors.

Benedict collected the occasional startled glance or once over as he headed toward the main office, but the people he passed seemed generally indifferent to his presence. The pre-coffee hour, he wondered, or was apathy their usual state? Well, he would find out, just as soon as he located his contact, a Miss Helena Bertinelli.

[Helena Bertinelli]

There were times when Helena didn’t want to come to school. She loved her job, loved making a difference, but there were plenty of times when she simply couldn’t do enough, not when the English and Math departments were insisting on just teaching the answers to the exam paper, instead of actually making sure that the kids knew what they needed to know.

Hoisting her bag up higher onto her shoulder, she made her way along the corridor, greeting those few students she thought would welcome it. A small tussle was quickly sorted with a few choice words before she finally arrived at the main office. There was someone new there. It was easy to tell that he was new, because she would definitely have remembered if any of the other teachers came anywhere near to being that tall.

“Mr Dante?” She offered him her hand.

[Bane]

Under the gimlet-eyed supervision of a clerk, Benedict was in the process of peeling the backing off a cross between a name tag and a visitor badge when he heard someone behind him call his name. With half of his attention focused on trying to unstick the bright yellow rectangle from his fingers and affix it to his lapel, he turned.

As he caught sight of the woman who'd spoken, his automatic polite smile widened into a more genuine expression. She was tall for a woman, with pretty features framed by a long cascade of hair. Bright, intelligent eyes tilted up to meet his, looking the question that went with her words.

"Yes, I'm Benedict Dante," he answered, clasping the offered hand carefully in one of his own. "Miss Bertinelli? A pleasure to meet you."

[Helena Bertinelli]

She tried not to, but Helena couldn’t help but frown as Mr Dante struggled with his name badge. She tried to focus on the greeting, but somehow, it was proving to be just a little bit too distracting. “Call me Helena. At least while the kids aren’t around.” She offered him her hand. “I’m perhaps not the most old fashioned of teachers, but I do believe that there is such a thing as being too informal.”

She gave a dismissive shake of her head. “You probably didn’t come here to learn about my teaching methods. So, how are you, Mr Dante? And did you find us okay?” It probably hadn’t been that hard to find the school. It was a big enough building, set back from the road by a playground and surrounded by a large wall for security.

[Bane]

"So, how are you, Mr Dante? And did you find us okay?”

"I'm quite well, thank you," Benedict replied, clasping the offered hand with his careful strength before releasing it. "And I got here without too much trouble, though Gotham's streets can be slightly treacherous." Finally, he got the name sticker attached and smoothed flat, albeit slightly crooked. Bird would've done it perfectly in no time flat, he thought, then wanted to laugh at the mental image of whistling up Bane's crack lock-picker for such a mundane task. Though the little thief was unparalleled at tying ties.

"I would actually be most interested in hearing of your teaching methods," the big man continued. "I've never been a teacher, and I find unfamiliar disciplines fascinating." He wasn't speaking entirely honestly. He had taught Bird, but suspected his methods and curriculum would not pass muster at even the rowdiest school in Gotham. But the rest was the truth. He genuinely enjoyed learning new things.

[Helena Bertinelli]

Helena looked surprised, mostly because she was. She hadn’t expected him to be all that interested in her teaching methods and all of a sudden, she felt like she’d been caught short. “I don’t have any particular secrets or methods, I guess. I try to be approachable to my students but I make sure that they know there’s a line. You can only go so far in being their friend, before you start losing their respect. Other than that, what can I say? You do your best to make the material as interesting as possible without losing educational content.”

“Mr Dante, we’re not the best funded school in Gotham. A lot of our kids have problems. Off the top of my head I could name you a dozen kids with parents on the inside, parents with drug problems. You name it, we’ve seen it.” Her right to such information was minimal, but it was impossible not to see sometimes and there were times when Huntress helped fill in the blanks. “They’re good kids though, and sometimes, I know this sounds melodramatic, but sometimes I feel like people have given up on them, like they’re destined to be the next generation’s criminals and labourers and nothing else. But what I’m really trying to say is just thanks for coming.”

[Bane]

“They’re good kids though, and sometimes, I know this sounds melodramatic, but sometimes I feel like people have given up on them, like they’re destined to be the next generation’s criminals and labourers and nothing else. But what I’m really trying to say is just thanks for coming.”

"It's my pleasure," Benedict said. "I'm happy to help however I'm able." Mentally, he was revising his presentation, soon deciding to ditch his planned format. A PowerPoint slide show illustrating Prometheon wouldn't work, not with youths such as she described. He would have to connect with them directly. It would mean speaking extemporaneously -- not his preference, but he was good at it.

He rolled his shoulders in a thoughtful half-shrug, debating with himself how much to reveal. "I grew up poor myself. My father wasn't in the picture, but other men stepped up. Now it's my turn."

Tilting his head to look down at the tall brunette, he continued. "I have a few questions, if you don't mind my picking your brains. Nothing private about the students, of course, just whatever will help me make it more relevant to them. And if there are particular obstacles they face or resources available to them."

[Helena Bertinelli]

There seemed to be a lot about Mr Dante to surprise Helena. She hadn’t had the time to do a lot of research about him, but she was beginning to suspect that having done so would have been pretty interesting.

"I have a few questions, if you don't mind my picking your brains. Nothing private about the students, of course, just whatever will help me make it more relevant to them. And if there are particular obstacles they face or resources available to them."

Helena shook her head and did her best not to laugh. “I’m sorry,” she said, holding up her hands. “It’s just too many of the former and not nearly enough of the latter.” She gave another quick shake of her head and tried to come up with something a little bit more useful. “I think one of the main problems is people prejudging them. Much as I hate to admit it, they do it to themselves and each other. Resources? Most of them are smart and independent.”

“So is there anything else in particular that you need to know? Anything that you need from the supply closet?”

[Bane]

“So is there anything else in particular that you need to know? Anything that you need from the supply closet?”

Benedict shook his head, considering. "I don't think so." In truth, he had only the haziest notion what might even be in the supply closet. "I think I will just," he spread his big hands in a sort of shrug, "talk with them. Tell them who I am and what I do, then let them ask what they'd like to know and take it from there."

Catching some of her cares and hopes for her charges, he found himself looking forward to meeting them and turned toward the office door. "Smart and independent is half the battle won already," he said. "Discipline and self-awareness are most of the rest -- " A faint, reminiscent smile touched his lips. "-- though a bit of luck doesn't hurt."

[Helena Bertinelli]

Maybe it was just Helena’s imagination, but for a moment, she was struck by the notion that Mr Dante was planning to make things up as he went along. She dismissed it though. If she was wrong and if it came to it, the height and muscles he had on her would count for nothing when she threw him out of the school. Of course, if he was going without aids and he was capable of making it worth the class’s time, then she’d just have all the more respect for him.

Respect that wasn’t based purely on physical attributes, too.

Mr Dante was already turning toward the office door and Helena dashed around him to pull the door open and lead him into the corridor outside. “This way.” She gestured for him to follow, before heading toward her classroom.

“Wait here for a moment?” she suggested once they’d reached her class. Pushing the door open, she stepped inside, still holding the door open. “Good morning class!” Few of the class responded with any real enthusiasm and those that did got jeered at by their classmates. “As part of career day, we’ve got a guest with us today. I think it’s probably best if he introduces himself.” With a nod, she beckoned Benedictt into the room. “Mr Dante?”

[Bane]

"Thank you, Ms. Bertinelli."

Ducking his head through the doorway, Benedict stepped inside. His progress toward the front of the classroom generated a wake of rustling, whispers, and -- he was amused to note out of the corner of his eye -- some surreptitious comparison flexing. Studying his audience as he moved, he reconfirmed his decision to scrap his intended presentation. It had involved some writing on the board, which would have meant turning his back to them. And, while he had no fear of them, the body language of it implied denigration ... as if they were of no concern.

Reaching the teacher's desk, he settled himself perched on one corner. Relaxed and at his ease, he met the fascinated stares of dozens of pairs of eyes with genial interest. "Good morning, class," he said, his voice a pleasant rumble. "I am Benedict Dante, owner and CEO of Prometheon." Shifting his shoulders slightly, he increased the already-impressive amount of space he seemed to take up. It was a trick he'd learned early -- the bigger you appeared, the more people heeded you. And it seemed to be working. Even the trio of layabouts he'd quickly pegged as the main troublemakers were paying attention, at least for now.

"Originally I'd planned to bore you all with a slideshow about my company," he continued. "Now, don't get me wrong, Prometheon is a wonderful company, but ... this is Career Day, not Company Day. So," he waved a dismissive hand, "no slideshow, just me. I'll tell you a little about myself, what I do and how I got here, and then you can ask me questions.

"I'm a businessman, which means, basically, that I arrange things. I figure out something people want to buy, then I figure out how to get it and sell it to them for less than my cost. In my case, what I sell is electricity, but it's the same whether you're dealing in candles, car repair, or crack cocaine." The leader of the trio's attention had started to wander, but that snapped it back. Benedict caught his eye for a fraction of a second, then continued on as if nothing had happened. "It doesn't take lots of money or a whole big complicated setup. Probably some of you are already businessmen -- and businesswomen."

He leaned forward a little, lowering his voice slightly, and the students leaned forward in response. "I wasn't lucky enough to be born with the last name Wayne. I didn't start out with boatloads of money and power plants and equipment and secretaries and repair crews and scientists. I started out with just me, in a place very much like Gotham, and I worked my way up and out. And now I have boatloads of money and power plants and so forth. My name still isn't Wayne," he grinned, "but I have a fancy place, a fast car, and a hot girlfriend."

He swept his gaze across the students again. "It can be done. You have to be willing to work for it, but it can be done."