Do you remember that day? The day that Metropolis was almost grounded, well, flattened more like, to nothing but a pile of rubble that could have resembled the likes of ancient Rome or Greece? When the Gods came to play among the lowly humans of that city, I don't think they considered the death toll they would rise. The families they would break apart. The trauma they would cause to children who lost parents or wives who lost husbands. The site of the hero of Metropolis crashing into building after building, smashing glass, obliterating lives was one that would haunt many minds for years to come. It sounded as if the whole world was caving in, that an earthquake was literally happening in the skies above the once safe city. Most people, however, forgave the sky god within months, saying that the lives of the few outweighed the good of the many. But try telling that to the young girl who almost and did lose her entire existence that day. To have the life you knew, the safe life, ripped from under your feet within the space of hours.
I was an eight-year-old girl that day, waiting patiently with my mother in the clinical cafeteria of Wayne Enterprises. Complaining at her, probably, that it was her fault that Daddy was late, again, that the journey from Gotham was her fault, that she didn't care, that my whole life sucked because of her. It was handover day. The day every parent dreads. Meeting the ex, handing over your most precious possession with guilt ridden hands. To me, it was the stark reminder that even though I had all I could wish for at my fingertips, I didn't have what I really needed. A stability in the knowledge that my parents loved each other. Or that I would come home to one of them, not a babysitter or a butler, and a smile with a warm meal and a chance to sit and do homework with an interested parent. I was a burden to both adults in my life, I knew that. They knew that. Even if I was affectionately named kitten by one and sweetheart by the other. That, and I hid their secrets that you wouldn't trust the FBI with, never mind a little girl with serious attention seeking tendencies. Do you know how many times they would play 'Well my Daddy…" and I would have to bite my tongue? How easy it would have been for me slam them all down with four words about either parent? I digress, I'm a bitter woman, if you couldn't tell that already.
The cafeteria, no, the whole construction shook with a loud boom that rocked its very foundations. Mom was apprehensive, more than that, intrigued and when mom was intrigued, you needed to be worried. Her green eyes scanned the windows, not getting up just yet, but that little crease in her forehead, just between the eyes, was signal enough to me that I needed to be on guard. Something was coming. I can imagine my little jaw setting firmly or a full bottom lip trembling in fear. I say imagine, because I'm not 100% certain, I tend to burry things deeply when I'm traumatised.
"It's okay kitten…they're probably doing something really fun in the science department…"
Her voice always fell from her mouth like butter as she took my hand and smiled gently. Encouraging me to finish the milk she'd bought with a nod. And I did, tentatively. On edge. Waiting to run for cover. Jesus, I was from Gotham. I spent some of my time in her run-down apartment in the oldest part of the city. I knew when danger was imminent. That was one of those moments. Still, she sat there, blowing the hot steam from her coffee, taking a sip with full lips in the most beautiful way you could imagine. Elongated fingers wrapped around the white beaker, red nails tapping the porcelain and eyelashes almost hitting the rim of the cup. That was my mom. She could make anything look like sex. As an eight-year-old, I didn't get it, but as I got older, I understood why men stared the way they did, or why she had dad where she wanted him most of the time. Only when that boom crashed a couple of ceiling tiles, did she stand up, on edge, ready to pounce into action. She watched as a building fell a mile away, the sonic sound and the dust that had emitted from crumbling concrete filled the streets in seconds. People were screaming, running to either watch or headed for the stairs in sheer terror. The phone was in her hand, dialling numbers in so quickly as she tapped her foot in agitation, that bottom lip caught in her teeth as she listened to an engaged tone.
"God damn you…." She growled under her breath, holding the phone in one hand as she rammed things into my bag, swinging it over her shoulder. "Helena, come here."
She held out her other hand and I took it, squeezing on tightly, not one question asked as she dialled again, and still, not one answer as the carnage outside of the window continued. It was now almost black, thick blackness surrounded the building. Screaming and crashing continued both inside and out.
"We're going to run, Hel, remember, how we practiced…." She said without passing a green-eyed look at me. Her mind was in survival mode, and when that happened, there was no comfort for her petrified daughter, that would come later. She didn't get the chance as the building shook so hard, that tiles began fall from the ceiling around us, throwing us both under a table as her phone finally rang through, the growl in her throat had become a softer one, one laced with both annoyance and fear. "What the hell is going on out there?"
The muffled voice at the end of the phone was the one we both needed at that point in time, her eyes noticed mine, crying was not something that her daughter did, but when she did, it was always her father's duty to deal with them. The speaker phone was activated as the crashing tiles and shaking floor continued around us.
"You both need to get out of that building…. NOW…." His growl was one of frustration, one because he was unable to get to us fast enough and he knew that. Even if mom was totally capable of finding us safety, it would be angering him to hell to know he was unable to reach us before our worlds collapsed around us.
"Daddy…." My voice broke its silence, integrated with sobs and more over with that high-pitched cry no father needs to hear from his little girl. "Daddy…. it's going to crash…. it's going to fall…" I screamed, screamed as the glass blew out of the windows and flew across the room, showering both of us and those around us. Many of them laying unconscious on the floor, pouring out blood, moaning, screaming and crying worse than I could at that time.
"Helena, listen, I'm coming for you now, a few minutes and I'll be there, get your mother and go down the stairs…don't use the elevator…. the stairs …. okay… you got it …." He was attempting to lie through to create calmness, but it wasn't working. I knew it was more than bad, a fear had set in that man's heart, one he had not really had to face before.
"Yes… I will …. I promise…" I observed around me, mom was there, comatose, blood driving from her head, covered in dirt, wreckage and lead glass. I tried with all my strength to shake her awake, to make her look at me as I cried out in fear. "Mom…wake up…we need to run…." I was pleading, I remember that, begging for her to live through this, just in time for dad to get there.
"Hel, sweetheart, run… you need to be brave … run …" he shouted down the phone as the signal began to break, as if he understood what was happening in that moment in time.
I did, I grabbed my bear, tightly and darted for it, the lights flickering as I sped through the darkened building. Down stairs, missing a few and stumbling, cutting open my hands and knees. But I couldn't give into the pain, even at that age I knew not to let it rule me as I got out. Into the dust filled air of the street below. All I could do was look up, helplessly, as most the building began to crash about myself. Stunned that my mother was now trapped inside that rubble, helpless, unable to defend herself. I couldn't even find it in me to grasp the special awareness I needed. Rooted to the spot, not able to see the danger I was in. But he did, luckily for me. In that moment, right at the very second I needed him to be there. Not wanted him too, but needed him too. Scooped up in two arms as the concrete beam hit the floor and not me. Placed on the broken ground again in front of him. Made to look into the eyes of the man that had made me. The ice blue pools that matched my own.
"Where is your mommy, sweetheart?" he was angry, but in that anger, I found the comfort and strength I needed as I looked up and pointed to the building that was once Wayne Enterprises, Metropolis Division. He pulled me in, trying to hide me from the trauma and devastation he would always be reluctant to let me be part of from that moment on. "It's okay Helena …. I promise …. you're going to be okay …."
For years to come, Bruce Thomas Wayne would keep that promise to that little girl, keep her safe, sheltered and protected from the hell of Gotham. Yet in turn, it would push a giant void between father and daughter. Create an anger in him that he would never be able to control. Because, even though he had saved my life, he hadn't been there when the disaster began. No matter how fast he drove or how angry he became. The spiral began at that moment. A spiral we would try our damned hardest to save him from.