Apart from Esmeralda and her brother, whom I entirely possess (he he), I do not own any other characters in this fanfic. Batman related characters belong to DC I guess. It is to be noted that the Bruce Wayne in this story is mainly inspired by Snyder/Capullo's one. And Amy, well she belongs to herself (sorry Girl, you've always inhabited my fictions, one way or another, since my teenage years, lots of love).

So I started writing this story, as a way for me to make sense of it, to remember the succession of events, to draw the timeline. Since I reserved it only for a personal usage, I thought to use a direct speech style would help me write quicker. So I was basically asking Esmeralda: what's your story? And she was telling it to me. And some 11428 words later, I'm left with a full plot. A lot of it is left to my imagination, though I might stem some one-shots from it. Some moments that could do with a little more detailing. But it is a text you ought to read as if Esmeralda was talking to you.

But, to help you picture a clearer image of your surroundings, let's say you've been abducted by the Joker because you're a hero. And you're held in a pit with all the other super heroes. And Alfred Pennyworth. Because of reasons. Joker seems to target the great figures of Gotham city. Since he couldn't find Wayne, he got his butler. You can't use your powers here, the Joker has found a way to disable everyone. Batman is here, the JLA, even the Task Force X. And the trapdoor opens and this girl is thrown in there with you. Pennyworth, Batman, Nightwing and the JLA seem to know her. They let her regain consciousness and, anyway, you don't care, you don't even know her. Though she might look familiar. From TV or something. Time passes by and nobody comes to rescue you lot. Well, everyone that could rescue you is basically in here so… Everyone starts getting seriously bored. This girl, her name is Esmeralda, you heard it over, she seems like she tries to lift everyone's spirit. She chats and jokes and tries to keep everyone… sane it seems. In the course of a conversation, you understand she's Wayne Enterprises CTO. So right under CEO Bruce Wayne. Yeah, you'd heard about that from a distance. OK so that's who she is. You're not impressed. But then Harley Quinn approaches her and asks her how she came to be in that position and hence, be one of Joker's target. And that's when Esmeralda starts sharing her story.

You want the short version or the long? *grins widely*

So baseline, I was born in Ireland. From two ass-dumb high-IQ superstars who believed our society fucked itself up and didn't see the truth that had been revealed to them through their intelligence. Weirdos. Sociopaths. Oh well, they were kind-hearted alright but they fucked everything up in the end so, not better than the society they ran from. Anyway, they met each other and went like 'Look, we're so smart you and I, let's create a family of highly-skilled people, shut off in the countryside. We'll study how our community can sustain itself and see if intelligence really runs down to genetics and/or education.' and I guess the other one just shrugged and went 'Yeah, that seems decent.' Anyway, why do I care? They took away their closest relatives: brothers, sisters, parents, and settled somewhere in the wild wild. You're gonna tell me Ireland is not so vast but they did find a spot where civilization didn't intrude. Apparently. Somewhere around Uggool, the Lost Valley, these sorts of places. So they built their little village and resumed ruling their survival daily activities. They did start from scratch and we must concede that they were heading the right way. They had six children, of which I was the last. The first one, my brother, was the most clever of us all. So clever he outranked everyone else in the camp. So clever, he was borderline insane. Well, he was insane. But so clever he managed to hide it for a long time. Six years before me, they had Amelia, my big sister, then another boy and then me. On the morning after I was conceived, spoiler alert, my brother slowly started shifting his slough and showing his true face. My mom wasn't even aware she was with child but as soon as she stepped into the common room, my brother went 'Mother, you're bearing my little sister, you'll be under my protection from now on.' like I'm possessing the world, Mister Smartass-Has-It-All. I know this because she wrote it in her diary by the way. I'm not romancing anything, if there's anything to be romanced. I'm just stretching her words. So here go nine months of crazy and crazier. He would follow her everywhere, make sure she would do that, not do this. He'd even patronize her and most surely overprotected her. Well, her. Me as a matter of fact. That's a rare case of attachment disorder. The worst case, from what I've read since then. He believed there was an invisible and super strong bond between us. Like we were meant for each other. And I mean meant for. A not so brotherly love you know. A dementia of which I was the object, obsessive and twisted on every level. Yes I am talking sexual here. So he showed impulsive behaviors, threatening and making everyone feel awkward until the day I was born. Yeah that day, everyone was released from the unease. Because he killed them. Each and every one of them. Well, except Amelia, my big sister. They called her Amy, according to what my Mom wrote. She might have been the least intelligent of the siblings but she was the most sensitive. And she just couldn't stand the edginess in which everyone was. So she ran away and spared herself a bloodbath. Because the guy had trained. The whole family was born with some strong genetics but he had gone the extra mile in his daily tasks, to make sure he would be ready for that fateful day. He overpowered my dad and uncles. My mom had me alone in the worst suffering and he left her in her blood. Took me and locked me in the cellar, in the dark, freshly born. He then proceeded to cut the bodies to pieces and froze them. We did have electricity, before you come asking. On a separate unit my dad had built. Still worrying we could be in the reach of the big bad guys. The new level of stupid. My brother provided me with the goats' milk that he left alive until I didn't need milk anymore. Poor thing. Then I was off to some cannibalism, ladies and gentlemen. Yeah, you got it. I had my little piece of family morning and night. As soon as my teeth could rip and my stomach take the flesh, he would clear his stock. Around 6 months old I guess. I'm vegan now by the way. Didn't see the light of day until I was three. Not long after he had started throwing books in my cellar. He knew I had the IQ to understand the letters. Here's the thing about self-taught geniuses: since our intelligence is inherited from generations and generations of human thinking, we're able to retrace the path the first men followed to create writing and speech. I can't remember the first books. Just that it made my life seem shallow. And then he shoved me my Mom's diary. It made me understand something was really wrong here. And that was also around the time he first raped me. And believe me, he had contained himself. But it all added up. That happened twice. Don't remember well but probably didn't like it too much because I escaped. I can't even remember how. Just the rush of adrenaline. I took the diary, ran into the night and discovered my first dawn just as I reached the suburbs. I was white of skin, half naked, in a terrible state I guess but if for one thing, I knew how to hide in the dark. I remember finding a hoody, some garments from a bin, and jumped in a boat. With every step, I would learn from the passers-by. Their talking, their customs. I was getting familiar to civilization. I've been able to stay unnoticed the two-weeks trip. It must have been a leisure ferry. And boom, I was in the US. The country of the Free.

And yet, I could not be at peace. I was dreading the approach of my brother. There was no way he could know I got away this far. Nobody had seen me get on or off the boat. All the logic in the world told me I was safe from him. Yet I would look at every shadow with fear, live off the garbage and sleep in boxes because I was too scared to call for help, to make myself known. I stayed one bloody week in Portland. Then I decided it'd be safer out the city. So I walked for a long time, crossed fields and forests. Went south for no reason whatsoever. And landed in a wide and wild area where I met a pack of wolves who seemed friendlier than any humans could. Well that was before meeting the Waynes. But the alpha female liked me enough to protect me from the male who finally accepted me in after some blurry events. I say blurry because my past was too heavy for me to bear then and I willingly adopted the animal way of thinking to put all the burden aside. So I don't recall much. Just it was worry-free. So liberating. I spent about three years with them.

So I couldn't have been more than six when Bruce ran into me. And I mean, literally. He was playing hide and seek with his dad. The pack had gone closer to the fringe in search of game. And he literally bumped into me. He was running from his dad. I clearly remember his laugh. It was so giddy. It echoed through the trees and I felt the urge to look for it. And boom! That look on his face. Ah ah! Well mine was probably as surprised. We stayed like that, in complete awe, gaping at each other until his dad burst into view and I fled. But I couldn't forget his laugh. I was sleeping between my wolf-mom's paws, turning over and over, and things were coming back. My species was calling for me you know. And he came back looking for me too, with Mister Wayne. Obviously we ended up finding each other. The pack was happily fulfilled close to the manor so I had some time wandering around the humans. They would walk through the forest to catch a glimpse and I would meet them closer and closer to the out. Until one day I came by myself to their pool. The first time I saw Mom and Alfred. These are so good memories. One thing that strikes me now is how they must have agreed to act it cool if it happened. Because I remember Mom sunbathing and barely lifting her sunglasses to greet me an 'Hello little one' though I was a feral girl you know. And Dad and Bruce were playing in the water and they beamed at me. Alfred, you looked shocked for an instant and resumed your expressionless grin. Ah ah. But I could feel the tension. I mean, I had spent three years as a wolf and I could smell the stress. Not from Bruce. I guess Bruce and I had already bought each other then. But the adults kept alert. I took very small steps very slowly towards the pool as they all resumed to pay me no heed. They wanted me to tame the surroundings by myself you see. And I soon realized there was no danger. The water was fresh, these people wanted me no harm, so this was a good place to be. I had to leave eventually because my pack called. But I would come back often after that, gravitating around the house, listening to their conversations. I would approach every day, closer. And when their attention level had gone down to zero, I even entered the house. One night, oh so many anecdotes, but one night, they were having a reception, like these people do, and Bruce was bored to death so he lingered on the patio. I met him there and he started talking. Fluently you know, like he knew I could understand. I had not spoken a human word for years but it felt good to be spoken to, to be addressed you know. We ended up running together in the forest, for fun. But we heard his parents' calls from afar and I could guess the worry so we went back and, of course, Mr and Mrs. Wayne were clever enough to see no harm had come to their son and just thanked me for entertaining him. Ah ah, entertaining Bruce.

The next step in that relation was the day Bruce was sick. It was autumn and there were guests at the house. I got closer, very casually. Alfred greeted with his all-teeth-out smile and I remember Mom and Dad hastily finding some explanation to my presence. I stood there, looking for Bruce. So Alfred told me he was in his bed with fever and pointed at his upstairs window. I climbed the wall, like a feral kid would do, and got in through the window. The look on the strangers faces! But Bruce was sick. I mean, pallid and sweaty. So I got sort of scared. In the wild, wolves don't really get sick. And if they do, they die quickly. I had been walking barefoot in the snow for three winters and never came out with as much as a flu. Constitution. All this aseptic bullshit we bring our kids up in. Anyways, I knew a plant that we used to eat, alongside raw meat, to help us digest and make us stronger. So without a second thought, I jumped out the window and sprint to get some from the woods. I gave it to Alfred, who recognized it and brewed it. It was just to show me respect obviously. The doctors had given him antibiotics, he was going to be perfectly fine. But it did make me feel useful. And I didn't want to leave his bedside to see if he would get better soon. I wanted to play you know. That was not fun to see him bed bound. So that was the first night I spent inside. I slept at his feet, curled in a ball like my furry relatives do. And I liked it. It was cosy and warm. I think I stayed then. I can't recall if I spent even one more night with the pack. Mr and Mrs Wayne arranged a room for my convenience. It's still my room today in the manor. It was the one right next to Bruce's. We were only separated by the bathroom that we shared for all our youth. But we basically were sleeping in one or the other. Not often did we sleep alone after that night. We both felt protected by the other. Not that I needed protection, I mean, I was protected by my brothers wolves until then. But, I dunno, it felt right to be amongst my own kind. When he woke up and he was not sick anymore, I hugged him tight and called out his name. It was the first time they heard my voice. And I said 'Bruce'.

You have to understand, all this happened in a matter of weeks, maybe three months at the most. My human nature was too strong. I did keep the link to the wolves though. I would leave the house for a run from time to time, brought them food, cuddled, licked their wounds, showed respect to the alpha. But Mr and Mrs Wayne didn't linger to adopt me officially. They invented some story about one of their lost relatives having a hidden child and I came to them and I was orphan and. Nobody really looked into it. So I became Esmeralda Wayne before I was seven. From there, I received the same education Bruce got. These people were so extraordinary. They didn't ever think twice. Blood or not, I was their child and would grow up to be a proud Wayne, which I am today. But, as you might recall, I had this gift of mine, that little intelligence my fucked up genitors gave me. So school was real quick easy for me. Mr Wayne would sit with us in the evening and read us stories from his giant books collection. You should see that library in the manor. I love that room so much. I miss it now that I don't live there anymore. Honest, there must be ten thousand books in there. I would go and pick a book, any book, and read three thousand pages over the weekend. I would get so bored in class, they made me jump to Bruce's grade though he is two years older than me. Soon, the teachers advised my parents to let me have home education, as in having a qualified teacher come at the house to instruct me. But I wouldn't like that. These people were either not smart enough or greedy or whatever. So they left me alone, in peace, and bought me books. I read the whole collection and needed more. I would read. All day. By that time, I had given my Mom's diary to all the family to scan through. Yes, I had kept it. That little item. That reminiscence of who I was. The three adults had read it and I had explained it to Bruce. We had that special relation you know. We would always have something to discuss. I told him everything that happened to me prior our meeting. And he was the only one I felt happy confiding my feelings to. About everything. So they all knew that reading was the only thing I had known from my past life. And they embraced it and let me be myself, sitting at home all day while they were all working. I would also start helping Alfred out because I believed it was not fair he would do all the chores by himself. And though he argued that it was his job alone, he soon gave in because, I'm a stubborn bitch. Before I was ten, I was reading economics books and advising my father about Wayne Enterprises' management. 'Down to business times', we used to call it. We were one hell of a happy lot. Until that fateful night.