Heyy! While I'm still trying to figure out plotlines and such, here's a couple one-shots that I thought of right after I wrote the scene where Andy's waiting in the hotel. These are other possibilities that could've gone down. This is where she was sent to an orphanage.

I do NOT own Batman/Young Justice etc.


SATURDAY, Oct. 8, 2011

The next two weeks rush by in an emotionless blur. Papers are signed. Attorneys are consulted. I'm shoved into a local orphanage.

Oh, joy.

The funeral is organized and held the next week. Other than me and Stephan, most of the rest of the circus and the crew attend the service. My parents are to be laid to rest in the Gotham City Cemetery. The burial is held on Saturday, the 8th of October.

Of course, it has to rain.

I spend most of the time fidgeting with my clothing: a figure-hugging long-sleeved black V-neck that stretches just past my hips, black skinny-jeans, and black ballet flats. I do talk to the people attending, but other than that, I do not say anything. A couple hours later, Stephan, two other men, and I are the only ones left under the overhang.

"Everything will work out," he tries to comfort me. He checks his Rolex watch. "I have to go now. Will you be okay here?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

"Okay. Bye, kiddo." He hugs me one last time before rushing out into the pouring rain.

About two minutes after Stephan leaves, I hear muffled footsteps approaching from behind. Barely turning my head, I observe the man out of the corner of my eye. I can sense he doesn't mean any harm, but I don't let my ever-present guard drop. I make a mental note to put him in the hospital for the next month if he makes a move that I don't like.

He looks like your typical tall, dark, and handsome guy, with his black hair and intelligent blue eyes. By the length of his stride I can tell that he stands just over six feet tall. His strong figure matches the silhouette of the mystery man in the tent. But I know I've seen his figure before; his height, the width of his shoulders, and the way he walks...

I'm not in the mood to talk. Before he can say or do anything, I turn and run past him, back into the pouring rain. I hope that the rain will hide my tears.


TUESDAY, Oct. 11, 2011

I shift my position on the oak tree's high branches, careful not to snag my clothing or drop my book, The Bourne Identity. Yeah, it's a book. Look it up. I'm currently reading the French version because I had already read it in English and wanted to try it out in French. Right now I'm at page two hundred and fifty.

Anyways, I'm at the part where Jason decides to-

"ANDROMEDA!"

And that would be Alison Herbert, the social worker working on my case.

Well, shiznit.

See, I've been getting everyone here to like me, but just for fun, I decided to piss just her off. She already hated me from the beginning; I don't even know why. Probably because I'm a circus rat and she's rich and "so above me" (sarcasm). I use that to my gain. I know that teens are usually harder to find potential homes for, so I created a plan.

My theory works like this: when a potential guardian comes to see me, they'll ask everyone else and they'll say nice things because they like me. But when they'll talk to Alison, she'll say how horrible I was. People will believe everyone else, because the majority said nicer things, and people tend to listen to the majority. After talking to my social worker, they'll feel a bit sorry for me, seeing how nice I am and how unfair this lady is to me, and want to adopt me.

One of the many things that I've been doing to further annoy her is reverting to mostly speaking French (my social worker doesn't speak a word of the language! Ha!). My background story is that my native language is French (my accent is perfect) and since my previous adopted parents spoke French, they were willing to teach me English.

Unfortunately, names are the same in most foreign languages, including French. Can't ignore this bitch any longer.

"Andromeda!" the middle-aged woman calls again, this time a bit nicer. Hmm... There must be a potential guardian with her. Whenever someone comes to see me, she always sucks up, hoping they'll adopt me and I'll be out of her hands. I've managed to successfully scare all the others away- one of them was a guy, I couldn't tell how old he was, but he had white hair, a creepy goatee/beard, and an eye patch. Last name was a sports company.

He was a definite Hell no.

And all of the others just didn't seem... I don't know, right, I guess?

Anyways, I peer down through the branches and see Alison, wearing a black skirt and matching blazer, standing next to a man in a navy blue business suit. All I can see from this angle is that he has slicked dark hair and tanned skin, most likely from the actual sun, thank god. I'm sorry, but spray-tans just disgust me.

I call down, "Attrapez ce s'il vous plaît!" and she tilts her dumb-blonde little head back to look up and barely manages to hold up her arms in time to block her face from being slightly redesigned. Instead, the man has caught the book. After retracting his arm, he reads the book title and flips through the pages. After a second I sense him raise his eyebrow in interest.

This is when I decide to make my entrance. I stand up on the branch I was just sitting on, hop down to a lower branch (one that's only about ten feet off the ground) and do a double front flip off of that. I land, crouched, in front of the two adults. I then stand up straight raise my arms like, Ta-da! The man, who is a bit startled, smiles and chuckles.

"Très désolé, monsieur," I pant in a perfect accent, smiling, as I hike up my jeans and adjust my maroon sweater.

Alison, however, is not impressed. Turning to me, she snaps, "What did I tell you about the acrobatics?"

Seeing the glare on her face, I pretend to be ashamed. I do not say anything, though- I just look down at my Airwalks. Wearing a so-totally-obviously phony smile, she turns back to the man.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that," she sucks up. She walks over to stand behind me. "She's very disobedient."

I like the term "insubordinate" better. It sounds more rebellious and less delinquent, unlike "disobedient."

"Andromeda," she says in her Idiot Tone. It's what I call the voice she speaks in to me because she thinks I don't speak or understand much English.

"This. Is Bruce Wayne. He is here. To talk. To you."

So. Bruce Wayne, huh? This is a bit of an upgrade. I tilt my head, wondering why a socialite would be so interested in me. He is different from the rest, I can tell. Something just clicks into place.

As I walk closer she places her hand on my shoulder and digs her nails into my skin. It does hurt a bit and I think there will be marks, even through my clothes.

Time to play Bruce's heart like a harp.

"!" I wince. Bruce looks at me in pity when I look up through my eyelashes at him.

"My name is Andromeda Sims," I enunciate through my fake French accent.

"Ne vous inquiétez pas," Bruce says as he hands me my book. "Je peux parler français."

My eyes widen. That was just a bit unexpected.

"Vous... voulez m'adopter?" I ask hesitantly.

"Oui," the billionaire replies.

But why?

"So, what do you say?"

Slowly, I nod. "I... will go," I confirm, still in my accent.

Alison sighs in relief. "I'll go get the forms." She scurries off.

The moment she's out of earshot, I turn to Bruce. "I… do not mean to sound rude," I begin, still in my false disguise, "but why do you want to... take me in?"

"Well..." Bruce looks off, trying to think of what to say. "I know what you are going through, and I feel like I could understand you better than anyone else could." His voice is soft and deep, and he speaks clearly to make sure I can understand everything he says. He doesn't use an Idiot Tone like Alison uses. He doesn't think I'm stupid, like she does.

I smile. I'm about to say something when Alison returns. So instead, I duck my head again.

"Here are the forms you need," she says handing some papers to my new guardian.

"Okay," he says, taking them. He then turns to me. "Pourquoi ne pas rassembler vos affaires pendant que je discute de ces formes avec Alison?"

"Bien," I nod. I rush off to my dorm. I shove The Bourne Identity in a front pouch of a suitcase and zip it up. All my regular clothes and my costumes are still packed in my two suitcases; I never used the given dresser in my room. When I go through a list of my electronics, that's when I remember my secret stash of... certain necessities.

I lie down flat on the hardwood flooring and reach under my bed. My fingers grip the handle of a titanium and lead-lined briefcase. I drag it out, unlock it with the key hanging on a chain around my neck, and remove the false top.

Underneath are shining guns, knives, and katanas originating from both Earth and my home planet. In addition, there's five hundred thousand dollars in US, European, and Chinese currency, each; multiple passports, driver's licenses, birth certificates, and ID cards; and more colored contacts and some hair dye.

I run through all possible scenarios of the jeopardization of my true identity. I push my long sleeves up my arm and summon small amounts of light to both hands. The light streams down my arms to decorate my skin in ancient Astridarin symbols that came in the package with my powers.

Any abilities that an Astridarin might have will also come with a set of symbols engraved on our skin where the power originates from. For mind-reading or telekinesis, the symbols might be at your temples. For sonic scream, the symbols would run down the sides of your neck. For fire controlling, water controlling, etc., the markings would be at your hands and arms. The only abilities that don't have markings are flight and clairvoyance.

The streaks of light whirl and spiral up to my elbows. After I stop using my abilities, the patterns will eventually fade to just markings, then back to my normal skin tone. When I'm in my true form, the markings don't fade to match my skin. Tiny cursive letters stretch across the back of both of my wrists: "Lux vexillifer et Vita dator" which is Astridarin for "Light bearer and Life giver."

I snap out of my trance, hoping Bruce and Alison are still talking and not wondering where I am. I attach a strap to my briefcase that will allow me to carry it over my shoulder. Clutching both suitcases, I hobble back outside. I see where Bruce and Alison are standing. Waiting with them now is an older man, wearing a chauffeur hat and a trench coat. When I join their circle, he turns to me.

"Mademoiselle Andromeda?" he says.

"Oui," is my reply.

"I can take your luggage to the car," he tells me. He has a British accent. This will be entertaining later.

Pretending to be a bit unsure, I motion to my suitcases like, you'll take this for me? and he nods. I maneuver the suitcases by their handles so they stand in front of me. "I can take this," I inform him, motioning to my briefcase. "Merci."

He nods in understanding. "That is fine." He then takes the suitcases in gloved hands and walks to the car.

I turn back to face Bruce and Bitc- uh, I mean Alison.

"You just need to sign them and drop them off at City Hall," she explains. She lowers her voice as she says the next couple sentences.

"Are you sure about this? She's a real trouble-maker, she's disobedient... You know, if you ask me, I don't think her parents did the best job of raising her..."

Excuse me?

I jerk my head up and give her a death glare. They say looks can kill...

"My parents," I growl, dropping my faux accent. Both Bruce and Alison turn and stare at me in shock. "Did just FINE raising me!"

"You... you could understand everything I said?" she squeaks.

"Oh, yes!" I seethe. "And for the record, it must've been your parents who did a shitty job raising their kid! Teaching you that just because you have more money, you're better than anyone else, is that right? Well, let me tell you something: you're not! Look, I'm sorry if your parents were cold or too busy for you or whatever. But that shouldn't make you cold; it should give you something to aspire to be better than. But it looks like you're doing a crappy job of that, too."

I turn to Bruce. "I can understand if you wouldn't want to go through with my adoption. If you do, you probably won't see that side of me for a while..."

He shakes his head. "The only thing that's changed is my knowledge of you being able to stand up for yourself, and what is right."

I smile up at him. "Thanks... thank you."


French Terminology:

Attrapez ce s'il vous plaît: Catch this please

Très désolé, monsieur: I'm very sorry, sir

Ne vous inquiétez pas...Je peux parler français: Do not worry...I can speak French

Vous... voulez m'adopter?: You... want to adopt me?

Oui: Yes

Pourquoi ne pas rassembler vos affaires pendant que je discute de ces formes avec Alison?: Why don't you gather your stuff while I discuss these forms with Alison?

Bien: Okay

Oui: Yes

Merci: Thank you


So. How did you like it? There's a second one I came up with, where she was sent to the juvie center, like Dick was. That's the next chapter.