Batwoman meets Catwoman Part One
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Her name was Eva Crespo. When she was young, she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life. She knew she couldn’t be a leader, because leaders were not like her, they grew up in different circumstances and had wealth, unlike her and so many others. Eva had many responsibilities when growing up. Her favourite, though, was cooking for her family and friends, making delectable dishes that articulated her warm nature. She always used a special, secret ingredient in her dishes, which she picked from nature outside her house. Soon, the whole community knew of her talent, or occupation, as Eva referred to it as. People appeared in the doorway of the Crespo household from all around the area, with a bowl in their hands and an anticipating smile on their faces.
She soon had to make large cauldron size amounts of her ever-growing famous dishes. With the growing amounts of food came more and more people wishing to sate their urges for Eva Crespo’s feasts. Some diners placed substantial quantities of pesos on the household’s table before they left. Eva chased after them and insisted she should not receive such a gift for her occupation, but the grateful diners thoroughly enjoyed her artistry and made sure she kept the money. Eva started to worry about the financial situation of the community. If they keep handing their hard earned money over to me, how will they pay for the other things they need? She soon thought about a new scheme in which she would receive a small fee for making the dishes, enough to cover the meals and a few extra pesos for market day, to exchange money for her secret ingredient
Eva Crespo’s family raised her well and were pleased she was not taking advantage of the townsfolk, for they were very much addicted to her art, and a large price increase, or inflation, would not deter the eager diners. The Crespos never had enough money to eat elsewhere than under their own roof and were proud as well as happy to share in their daughter’s culinary delights as much as anybody else. She had discovered cooking at a very young age, her mother and father had taken her to a restaurant, for the first and last time in her life so far.
‘Eva, pick anything you wish to eat. Tonight we will dine like kings and queens, and a princess, sitting down to their last meal ever,’ her father had said, jovially, many years ago.
She had pointed to a line on the menu her father had placed in front of her. From that day on, she invested her time in creating the most delicious food she could, even more so than that restaurant.
One early autumn morning, Eva concocted an idea in which she would set up a stall at the market where she would sell her meals to anyone that wanted some, at the same price it cost to make them. So it was decided, Eva left early in the morning, all her pots, pans, and utensils on a cart, which she pushed with her mother all the way to the market. They travelled across scorched dirt and dying trees surrounded by cracked land. Miles around spread arid land, above their heads thick and heavy dark clouds were gathering to drop their heavy load upon the earth and release it from drought. During the trip, she kept her secret ingredient inside a pot, which she took out when she reached their destination. They set up all their equipment, started the fire to cook with, and Eva began cooking. The fragrant aroma of sweet herbs and spices filled the air. Almost instantly, the market crowd recognised Eva and formed a long queue behind the lucky first in line. Portions were served and overjoyed customers lingered to discuss the intricacies of Eva’s art. Some customers queued once more to receive seconds and the larger of men lined up as eagerly as the first time to receive their third and presumably last serving.
Suddenly, everybody turned and froze, forks suspended in mid-air, they were all looking at El Presidente. He appeared as if he squeezed out of a crack in the ground. There were three men with stern expressions following him. El Presidente was a rough looking man, but with an amiable spirit. Despite his apparent rough features, El Presidente wore a clean tailored suit, this was half the shock to onlookers, no one else was wearing anything clean, let alone tailored. He had won over the people with his irresistible speech. Eva craned her neck and jumped to get a glimpse of what was happening. There was El Presidente, who was now approaching her stall. She was one of the rare few who questioned his speech, she didn’t believe he had written it himself.
‘Are you Eva of the Crespos who sells the meals of the highest calibre in the land?’ asked El Presidente, in a matter-of-fact way.
‘I am Eva Crespo and I sell food, nothing too fancy,’ she replied, unsure of whether El Presidente was referring to her, or another cooking Eva Crespo.
‘How much for four helpings of your craft?’ inquired El Presidente.
‘Eight pesos,’ answered Eva, beginning to scoop out the servings. As she did, she reached into the pot containing the secret ingredient and placed an extra pinch inside El Presidente’s serving. She handed the four helpings to El Presidente, who took his and passed the other three to his bodyguards. He filled up a fork, put it to his mouth and tasted the fruit of her occupation. El Presidente closed his eyes and smiled, tasting and chewing the wonderful combination of flavours. He opened his eyes again, still smiling, saw Eva properly for the first time. She was as much of an artwork as her dishes. She was a young woman now, at the height of her charm and mesmerism. She wore a small pink bow in her hair, with simple clothes that would easily slide off her smooth tanned skin. Her eyes twinkled in the sunlight. El Presidente was fascinated. He nodded to his bodyguards who gestured back.
‘You have to come with me,’ said El Presidente, already falling under a magical spell.
El Presidente’s bodyguards stepped behind the stall and placed their hands on Eva. She hardly noticed, she was distracted. Her eyes scanned every inch of El Presidente. They softened at the sight of this captivating man. The bodyguards weren’t needed, she would gladly accompany El Presidente back to his estate. Eva’s mother and the market crowd all knew what possessed the two. Their eyes told more than simple words could ever do.
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Batwoman meets Catwoman Part One
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Batwoman meets Catwoman Part Two
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