Bruce walked into Wayne Manor for the first time in a week. The large house felt empty and dead from a week of not being used. That was one thing he hated about going away on "buisness" trips.
Ha, buisness trip, he thought humorously, if Gotham knew what I was really doing I'd be out of a job! He chuckled to himself and still held a grin when he saw Alfred give him a confused look.
Just a week ago a big-time gangster flew to China to trade money for illegal drugs… let's just say that the trade didn't go over so well when the local police received an anonymous note about it. Let's also say that Batman got his ass out of their fast because sometimes, anonymous tips don't always stay anonymous. Not that he felt nervous there… but he decided that lingering in China for too long would cause some questions to form in Gotham City.
The phone rang, causing his thoughts to disappear as he listened to Alfred answer on the third ring.
"Master Bruce!" Alfred called from the kitchen only a moment later, "A very import phone call is for you!"
"Are you sure you don't know your cousin's phone number?" Ms. Morris asked, the annoying and crude orphanage worker exasperated as she hung up the phone again. She turned and looked angrily at the teenager standing next to her as if it was her fault that her cousin wasn't picking up his house phone. Her pudgy face went straight into the girl's personal space causing her to fidget and walk slightly backwards. "I'm sorry," the lady said when she noticed her discomfort, "is my presence not great enough for the powerful Darcy Wayne?" she sneered.
"No, it's just that annoying hobbits bug me when they're in my personal space," the girl, known as Darcy Wayne, corrected with a calm voice that it made Ms. Morris' anger rise.
The remark cost Darcy a slap, but instead of punching back like she did to girls who have slapped her at her old school. She simply raised one eyebrow and sent out another comment.
"I thought at Open Arms Orphanage you were supposed to be kind to the unfortunate?" Ms. Morris laughed crudely making the high-pitched noise hurt Darcy's ears.
"Unfortunate?" she laughed humorlessly, "you are just a filthy rich-"
"Okay Ms. Morris!" Jen exclaimed as she walked up to the two rivals with a face of sheer panic. "I'll try calling now, okay?" she suggested, trying her hardest to stay calm. the overweight woman nodded with her jaw clenched tightly… well… Darcy thought it was at least. It was hard to tell with the double chin.
Thank you, God, for Jen! Darcy silently prayed.
What would Darcy do without the young orphanage worker? Jen was only twenty-three years old but she carried herself better than any twenty-year-old Darcy had ever met.
"Watch your mouth around the Hobbit," Jen mumbled to Darcy as she picked up the black phone that hung on the wall.
"Tell her to be nicer!" she grumbled and Jen rolled her eyes at the girl's stubbornness.
"Sometimes… you just have to ignore the fact that someone's mean to you, and be nice to them anyways." Darcy thought about it for a while but refused to admit that Jen was right.
"Hello?" Jen asked excitedly when she heard an elderly man's voice greet her on the other end.
"Yes?" the elderly voice chuckled.
"Is Bruce Wayne there… this is Jen from Open Arms Orphanage?"
"Oh… yes, he is here," his voice became soft and serious.
A day later Darcy caught a plane to Gotham City from New York City. Darcy nervously sat in the first class seat trying to calm her frantic mind down while she listened to her iPod.
What if he's just some stuck-up billionaire like all the tabloids say? She thought nervously.
No! A stern voice told her. You shouldn't listen to those… remember what they said about you?
She looked darkly out the window to the bright lights of Gotham City… even though they were miles away from it… Wayne Tower could be seen as the largest and grandest building in Gotham.
That party, untrustworthy friends, and alcohol... the three elements that spread rumors everywhere on the front covers of gossip magazines. After that night, Darcy decided that, never again would she join a stupid drinking game at a party full of horny teenage boys and catty teenage girls; especially, if she was the only fifteen-year-old there.
"Everyone makes mistakes," her father told her when she told him once the magazines hit the stands.
She missed that about him… his forgiving nature. It was one of the worst parts of his death, because she didn't know if Bruce would have the same forgiveness. That was a month before he died, he was sick with the cancer then and she hated herself for causing him trouble... even if he tried to reassure her that she didn't.
That's in the past, Darcy told herself as she adjusted her burnt orange tank top that laid under a black blazer. To pull of the outfit she wore dark wash skinny jeans and black high heels. Personally, she thought that the outfit showed the more serious side of her that grew when her dad died.
"Can you promise me something?" the teenager remembered him asking her from his hospital bed as she sat beside him. It was two days before he died. Twenty minutes before that Darcy was fighting back tears from the docters telling her that he only had a few weeks left.
"Of course," she said, trying to force back the reaccuring tempation to cry.
"Can you carry on my business once you are ready?" he asked, "My head manager is taking care of it until you feel that you can take it over," she nodded without thinking. It would be a happy thought for him to hold on to before he died and she couldn't bear to say 'no' to her dying father.
Silver Shield Industries, something she never thought about owning someday. Darcy always pictured herself working apart of the CSI of New York; either that or a fashion designer, but how the criminal mind works had always been something that interested her.
Ding
The seatbelt signal turned on and Darcy's heart sank. She hated the part of plane rides when they descended into the city. It scared had always scared her even though she had rode on planes ever since she was a little girl.
The plane's captain announced their descent into the large city and thanked the passengers for choosing their airlines….
It was only a matter of time before Darcy would come face-to-face with the billionaire cousin.
"Is she here yet?" Bruce asked nervously from the front parlor. He was reading his latest Newsweek, be barely paid any attention to it. His stomach continued to do flip flops from her crazy nerves.
Relax; it's just a teenage girl… she won't find out! He tried to convince himself.
"Not ye-oh, I take that back!" Alfred announced. Bruce hurried to the window and saw a very attractive girl with wavy brown hair with light golden highlights taking her luggage up to the door as the cab drove away. She wore pearls similar to the ones Bruce's father his mother the night they were murdered. Apparently Darcy's father had a necklace like that for her mother, but Bruce guessed that she gave it back when they had the divorce. It must have been horrible for Darcy when she died… and now her dad had just died. He could relate to her perfectly except for the divorce part.
Bruce's heart started to race when a thudding sound came from the door.
Alfred answered the door, but he didn't listen to what they were saying…. He was trying to think of an alibi for his late nights… since he read that Darcy also stayed up late from a gossip magazine.
"Master Bruce… your cousin is at the door for you," Alfred smiled at him and Bruce tried to swallow his nerves.
"Hello?" he asked as he saw her staring at her black shoes. Darcy's head shot up and stared at the handsome young man wearing dark wash jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeved polo.
"Hi," she smiled, showing her pearly white, straight teeth to him, "I'm your cousin, Darcy."
"Of course… I've been expecting you," he said, trying not to sound creepy, but failed. "Please come in," he told her trying to sound happy to make up for his awkwardness.
She walked graciously into the huge mansion with her three Louis Vuitton suitcases. "Your home is beautiful!" the teenager gasped.
"Thank you," he gave her a toothless smile and then turned to Alfred, who was standing at the base of the stairs, "Alfred, please take Darcy's things up to her room," Alfred nodded then took two of the suitcases, leaving one and her one carry-on in the parlor.
"Thank you Alfred," she smiled at him, making up her mind that she would bring up the other luggage and the carry-on to her room.
Bruce looked out the window but all he saw was darkness and saw the bat signal shone brightly in the night sky. He gulped and regretted what he was going to do.
"Why don't you get settled into your bedroom, and I'll be back later so we can talk more then," he told her, trying to act casual but he could hear the rush clearly in his words.
He started to walk towards the South East Corner of the mansion.
Hmmm... Darcy thought and then followed behind.
"Where are you going?" she asked curiously.
"I have some buisness I have to get done." Panic set in and he hoped that she wouldn't notice.
"Well obviously I can see you have to go somewhere, but where are you going?"
"Umm... Wayne Tower. I have some, um, files I need to sort through," he mumbled and then took off up the staircase but Darcy didn't follow him. Instead she stopped dead in her tracks and stared after him with confusment furrowing her brow.
"No hard feelings against you, Miss Darcy," Alfred's voice echoed throughout the mansion. She turned around to see the British man standing ten feet behind her; "he just gets very busy at night. Come on now, let me show you to your room," he motioned for her to come and she nodded to him and followed. But his attempt at reassuring her just didn't sit right in her mind. There was something going on... she didn't know what of course, but she was going to find out.
A/N: I changed this a bit. And I just have to say, holy shit this is long. I mean my newer ones are only 3 pages long on Micro. Word but these ones are, like, five pages!!!
Well... time to move on to the 2nd one.... I'm hoping to finish all of these tonight but I can't promise a thing.
HANNAH