Prologue

Bruce Wayne received many odd looks as he ran through the halls of the court house like a mad man, dressed in one of his best suits. He was running nearly an hour late for a meeting with the commissioner and a few other names he hadn't quite caught when he was asked to attend. Batman had been up late the night before, busy with some interrogations and as a result, Bruce had overslept once again.

This late behavior, something that had never been an issue before, has been happening more and more often. The Joker appeared to have dropped off the radar and Batman knew he was up to something. The problem was, nobody seemed to have any information about where he was or what he was doing. He worked day and night trying to find out anything and the lack of sleep was finally catching up to him. Alfred would say he's working too hard, but then again, he's almost always saying something along those lines. However, if he's not careful, Bruce's image will go from professional, timely, VP of Gotham to something more along the lines of a ragged crazy guy who apparently has enough money to buy everything in the world … except a clock. Luckily no one else had seemed to take notice of Bruce's change in behavior.

As he finally reached his destination, Bruce stopped for a moment to compose himself before opening the doors to Judge Reynolds' office. The judge sat behind his desk, while the commissioner stood in the corner of the room. There was also a middle-aged woman with a notepad and pen sitting in a chair in front of the Judge's desk. Bruce didn't recognize this woman, but he did recognize the three other men in the room; James Peterson, Mitchell Blake, and Dan Price. They were all men much like Bruce; owners of large companies, lots of money, and big contributors to the city.

"Bruce! We were just about to start without you!" the Judge proclaimed with a hearty laugh.

"I apologize for being so late."

Bruce opted to stand next to the commissioner in the corner. They both exchanged a silent greeting by nodding their heads at each other, before turning their attention back to the rest of the room.

"Well the reason we're all here is for this woman, so I'll just go ahead and give her the floor."

The judge motioned to the woman sitting in front of his desk. She smiled politely and stood to her feet, notepad and pen in her hand. Bruce also noticed she held a folder of sorts under the notepad, though he couldn't tell what was in it. It wasn't too thick, so it could only be two or three papers at most.

"Well let me just start by thanking all of you for meeting here today. I know how valuable your time is, so I'll try to be brief. My name is Linda Haynes and I've been a licensed psychologist for over fifteen years. I specialize in the rehabilitation of criminals. You see, all criminals have a story. Some have serious mental issues that may or may not be curable, but most simply turned to crime because they felt they had no other option. They often have tragic pasts. Many have no family, no money, and no education and have even witnessed terrible murders of loved ones or even just strangers.

This means that the majority of criminals out there can be helped by almost anyone. All they need is some T.L.C. and a little help getting to their feet. This is why a few colleagues and I came up with the concept of the Adopt a Criminal campaign. Our hope is that we will be able to find respectable individuals who are willing to accept a criminal into their home and help them get to their feet, show them there other options than what they've been doing. That's where you four gentle come in. I brought you here in hopes one of you would be willing."

Bruce couldn't help but take notice of the expressions on the faces of the other three men. Mitchell, the youngest in the room, looked terrified, while Dan and James just looked disgusted. Both looks had one thing in common though … it was a sure sign that none of them would ever agree to this. Of course, Bruce wasn't quite like these other three men.

"Now before you make up your minds, just hear me out. We realize this would be a risk on your part. That's why you would be reporting to the commissioner every day and if anything happens, anything at all, that makes you even remotely uncomfortable, we will remove the subject from your home immediately. This is just a trial run, so I only need just one of you to step up."

"Who chooses which criminal gets to be apart of this trial?" the commissioner chimed in.

"I have already chosen a candidate. I researched all the people awaiting trial in Gotham and based on their history, type and frequency of crime, mental status, and a few other variables I chose someone I think is the most likely to take to this program well."

"Who is he?" Bruce asked.

Linda awkwardly cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses. She seemed to be slightly uncomfortable with this question, though Bruce couldn't imagine why. She pulled the folder out from under her notepad and opened it, handing Bruce the papers it had held.

"Well he's a she, actually," she said.

Bruce looked down at the papers to see they were a full report on a 24 year old woman named Samantha Jones. There was a mugshot, but it was black and white so he couldn't make out any significant features. His eyes skillfully scanned the report, knowing just where to look. She was a thief, and a good one at that apparently. She only got caught when a fellow criminal turned her in after she was seen pickpocketing on his "turf." She must be new to Gotham and doesn't know the different turfs. She's lucky she only got turned in … could have been much worse.

The report also talked about her mental status. It said that she was very guarded and often dodge questions so well that the interviewers didn't even realize it right away and that she was also a very skillful liar, but otherwise appeared to be fairly normal, no noticeable mental issues. However, it didn't have much to say about her past. It had the names and ages of her mother and father. They were still alive and have two other children together, ages 14 and 11, both boys. And that was all.

"You said one of the variables you took into account was their history, but there's hardly any information on her past," Bruce stated. How can something be a variable if it isn't even there?

"Yes, as it mentions in the report, she's very guarded and usually just dodged any questions we asked her. The information we have there we only got by searching her social security number, which we only got because she happened to have her S.S. card on her. It is a variable though, believe it or not. That little information tells me more than you might think. So … any chance one of you is willing to be apart of this?"

Silence filled the room. James, Dan, and Mitchell all exchanged looks, as if they were trying to figure out if the others were going to volunteer, though it was clear none of them would. Bruce looked back down at the papers in his hands, specifically at the black and white mugshots. Her hair was cut short and choppy, framing her face in a mess and sticking out in odd places. She looked tough, like life had hardened her up, but there was something deep in her eyes that showed even in these pictures. Bruce wasn't sure what it was, but it was enough to make up his mind.

"I'll do it."

Everyone in the room looked dumbfounded. Not a single person, not even Linda (or Bruce himself for that matter) thought that someone would step up, yet here he was, volunteering. Linda's surprised turned to utter joy in a heartbeat and she began thanking Bruce excessively and began explaining the process in more detail.

Looks like Bruce Wayne just adopted a thief.