Clark took one look at Conner as they piled into the car at the end of the day and frowned. "Did you buy new clothes? Do you not like your old ones? Should we go shopping?"
Conner waved him off, "Nah, I lost them in a bet with a hobo. Stephanie was there."
The girl nodded solemnly. "Conner brought shame upon your family Mr. Kent."
Clark, bless him, chuckled. "All right, if you're sure. Now who do we drop off first?"
They made short work of dropping off each of Conner's friends back where they came from, and Conner found himself shooting multiple goodbyes and promises to do this again soon after them. As the last of them, Bart who lived in the suburbs a forty minute drive away, finally left the vehicle, Clark gave Conner a look.
"What?" Conner asked.
"Nothing," Clark said, but he continued to smile irritatingly.
Conner ignored it.
Instead he stumbled into his room, fiddled with his phone for only a few moments, and collapsed on his bed. He fell asleep instantly. The day had drained him far more than he realized.
In his dreams, Conner found himself arguing with Tim in chemistry class. He couldn't even be sure what the argument was about, distracted as he was by Tim's pale white skin and glistening fangs. And then the beach stretched out before them both, and Tim looked at him like he was dinner.
"Careful," Conner turned into a faceful of smoke, and Jason grinned at him. "You have no idea what you're getting into."
Conner turned back just in time to see Tim lunge at him, and he shot out of bed.
Pure insanity. He was going insane. Fumbling for the phone on his nightstand he checked the time and saw that Maps had followed through. He had 6 unread texts full of links.
Excited despite himself, he pulled his chair up to his desk, and opened his old clunker of a laptop. Maps had sent him several links. The first was to a website that looked like it was written in 2003. The text was something close to comic sans and centered on the page with a black background. It claimed to have been written by some political activist wanting to uncover the truth about Gotham, and they signed every article with the letter A. The text extensively documented Gotham's history, pointing out inconsistencies in the books, such as the multiple founding dates, the apparent appearance of the Elliot family in the books in 1800, despite the family's claims of being founders. Overall it was boring reading. But up at the top of the page were several tabs. The Court of Owls, Legends of Gotham Sewers, Haunting of Gotham Academy, and, most importantly, Legends of the Bat.
Conner found himself diving down a rabbit hole. The Legends of the Bat page listed out the history and sightings of a mysterious cloaked figure who stalked the streets of crime alley, and linked the figure to countless violent murders. There was a link to a shitty photo album full of blurry cell phone footage of shadowy figures and crime scenes.
Then there was a link at the bottom of the page: The Truth About Gotham's Elite.
The five founding families of Gotham. The Waynes. The Kanes. The Elliots. The Dumas. The Crowns. For years these families have had an unprecedented amount of control over the city of Gotham. Their descendents rule to this day. And I believe it is time to break their hold. By any means necessary.
The article went on to detail exactly how much of Gotham was owned by each family, and to present and expand upon the idea that they were responsible for everything that had happened to Gotham in the past three hundred years. It included documentation showing each family's ties to the occult, the mob, and claimed they each swore allegiance to a dark god that lived under Gotham. Conner could have spent forever just on the singular website, looking at the family crests full of symbols of the old gods and the vampiric and demonic imagery in their tabloid photos.
Somewhere around the time the author claimed that the Wayne children never ate in public, and had been conveniently absent from school on days corresponding to local murders, he snapped out of his downward spiral and realized how insane it sounded.
Instead he navigated to the next website on Maps' list. It was way more fun and far less stalkery. The website was an encyclopedia of vampires. It listed thousands of entries. Different types of vampires, different events involving vampires. Everything from Vlad the Impaler, to Dracula, to a very interesting incident called the Hope Brown Vampire Incident of Gotham. Apparently in the 1600s the Brown family suffered multiple deaths, and blamed it on their eldest daughter, claiming she was a vampire. They wound up driving a stake through her heart. Conner found the site more entertaining than frightening, and even took a short "Which Vampire Are You Quiz?" (he got Eric Northman and then wound up reading the summary of True Blood on Wikipedia for thirty minutes).
Finally he turned over to the last few websites, all of which were news articles about a string of recent murders. The bodies suffered severe, almost animalistic wounds, and appeared to have bled out somewhere separate from where they were dumped. Conner recognized the Robinson Park murder at the top of the list. A homeless man, killed on a Wednesday. Cops were chalking it up to maybe a stray wolf or bear having wandered into the parks and gotten the guy while he was passed out in the park for the night. But Maps had sent him several other, remarkably similar murders. One in an alley not far from his and Clark's apartment. Another further away in Crime Alley. Another in the Narrows. Maps also linked him to a few sightings of the Bat in the gossip column of the Gotham Gazette.
When Conner looked up from his computer he realized that light had already started spilling into his room, blue and gloomy. He checked the time only to realize he'd been up since dark and now 9AM had rolled around.
He sighed, and closed his computer.
Thoughts about the Waynes being Vampires didn't leave Conner all morning. He went to breakfast with Clark at a small diner down the street. It was a waffle place, with low ceilings and wood floors and smelled despicably sugary. A hostess seated them and they ordered while Conner played the idea of Tim being a creature of the night over in his head.
Had he ever seen any of them in a mirror? Or sunlight? He tried to remember if it had been sunny that day with Jason on the roof. Also Tim had taken a bullet, so were vampires bullet proof? And Tim had been absent the day Ms. Isley took them to the blood drive he was pretty sure.
"Conner, are you ok?" Clark asked over eggs.
"Yeah, yeah. Just thinking." Conner said. He picked at his waffles. A waitress in a blue button up dress eyed them from across the small diner. Or really eyed Clark. She had dark curls and too dark lipstick. Something about Clark seemed to simply attract the ladies, though Conner had never pinned down why.
"Well, do enlighten me," Clark said in good humor.
Conner tried to think of a way to voice his concerns without sounding crazy. At last he settled on, "What do you know about the recent string of, like, wild bear attacks happening in Gotham?"
To Conner's surprise Clark seemed to know what he was talking about, and considered it very seriously. He chewed his egg slowly, swallowed, and said, "I think it's odd. Not too many bears in this area, if I'm being totally honest."
"Or wolves," Conner said.
Clark nodded in agreement. "And coyotes don't maul people to death. Pets sure, but not six separate grown people."
"So what do you think?" Conner asked, excited for once at the prospect of dragging a conversation with Clark out as long as possible.
Clark removed his glasses, cleaning them on his shirt, before answering, a habit Conner recognized as stalling for time. "About four years ago Gotham police found a fifteen foot monster croc in the sewers. It's suspected it escaped from the zoo some twenty odd years ago."
"So you think a freak croc is eating people in Crime Alley?" Conner asked incredulously.
"I didn't say that. What I'm saying it...Gotham is...a strange city. It's big, with secrets a mile deep. We have entire underground homeless cities built in disused subway tunnels, drugs that don't even exist in half the country. We're the worst combination of too much technology and too much decadence. And we've been hit be enough natural disasters in our history to warrant caution. If any city could have a rampaging animal killing people throughout the city, it would be us. But no, I don't think it's a bear. Or a croc."
"What do you think it is?"
Clark frowned. "As a reporter, I hesitate to try and give an answer where I genuinely don't have the facts. But I've been working for the past couple months on a rather thorough exposé on the Gotham PD. It's hush hush because there's a lot of people tied up in this. It's actually how I met Bruce Wayne."
Conner didn't even notice his mouth was hanging open. "Excuse me?"
"Bruce and Commissioner Gordon have a long, historied friendship. At first I was investigating Bruce because Wayne Industries famously has been the weapons supplier to the Gotham Police force since forever. Militarization of the police being what it is. My current article started as a piece on that, but Mr. Wayne and Gordon both were happy to help set me up with some more connections. Apparently Gordon was brought in to help clean up the force. And Wayne Industry's weapons dealing has been a long standing problem that's already on an incremental changeover. Bruce plans to have that entire sector of the business retrofitted for security and surveillance. He has to finish up the last of the contracts that the company is tied up in, for legal reasons, but eventually it'll be less guns, more planes, cameras, and computers. Of course, I think that's still too slippery of a slope, but Bruce and I have had many a long conversation on that particular difference in ideologies."
Never in his life had Conner felt that Clark could ever be cool. But this was pretty damn close. "So you think the animal attack thing is what, police corruption? Coverup? Do the Waynes know?"
"Oh it's entirely possible," Clark said. "I mean, no one cares because the victims are all homeless. That's the only reason it's not all over the news. It's like this everywhere. I will say this, the Waynes, for all my problems with them, do mean well. Bruce outright wants to stop the manufacture and sale of guns within Gotham. First with his own company, then with everyone else. He has a very anti-gun policy. Which is understandable given his history."
"Parents were shot, right?" Conner said, relying on tabloid knowledge and Stephanie's gossip to not sound completely ignorant.
"Yep. Some low life thug. He's up for parole in a year."
"Really? How?"
"That's just how the system works. Hey, if you want to know more about this, I can send you what I've got so far. Just be sure not to share with anyone else. I'm not exactly the most popular reporter in town."
"I can read it on the train ride to Metropolis," Conner said.
At the mention of Metropolis Clark's face fell. "Are you sure you don't want me to go with you? I can get a hotel nearby and-"
"Clark, really, it's fine. I'll just tell him what he wants to hear, and I'll be back before you know it. I'll visit Roxy."
Clark didn't look happy, but Conner decided to dig into his waffles instead of trying to reason with him. It would only be one weekend after all. The fact the other man was so worried without having heard Lex's threats made Conner double down on his decision not to tell him anything.
"You never told me much about the people you were with in Hawaii. Is Roxy…?"
"Like a sister, Clark," Conner said, then thought about it a bit, "actually, you'd like her a whole lot. She used to keep me in line."
"I'm glad," Clark said softly.
They finished breakfast without much fanfare. Clark tipped the waitress too much for the amount of money he made, and they went home. Conner was sure to shoot Maps a quick thank you text, to which he got a thumbs up and an invite to Gotham Academy's D&D club, which he kindly declined.
Conner's last week of school leading up to his big Metropolis trip was bound to be unbearable. He already had bought a ticket for the train, one of Wayne Industries' pet projects, Clark told him. Apparently Bruce Wayne liked being rocketed to Metropolis at 150 miles per hour in a silver bullet. It was better than flying though, and cost less for everyone involved. He'd be picked up at the station by one of Lex's goons.
None of this planning did anything to alleviate the stress induced headache the upcoming trip caused. He decided to stay out of the house as much as possible because Clark had become unbearably worried about him and the trip, and of course, he walked into school Monday wearing Jason's coat which became another problem unto itself.
He got to school early, keeping to himself, and finding a nice picnic table with a view of the parking lot near the school entrance. It drizzled on and off, and everything sat dewy and cold. Fall was definitely in full swing, but the wet gloomy fall as opposed to the crunchy leaves he had imagined. He waited for Stephanie to arrive, and pulled out the newest book they were covering in English class. Heart of Darkness. Like Wuthering Heightsbefore it, the text loomed impenetrably before him.
He had only struggled through a couple paragraphs when someone cleared their throat.
He looked up. Jason grinned at him, Tim and Duke in tow. Jason held out Conner's jacket, and he tried not to look as relieved as he felt at seeing the old worn out thing.
"Uh…" Conner struggled not to sound like an idiot. He put his book down on the damp table and started to take off Jason's jacket.
"Keep it," Jason said, handing him back his own, "It looks better on you, right Tim?"
Tim just glared.
"Can we sit here?" Jason asked, "Tim doesn't get out much and I'm trying to teach him to socialize."
When Conner didn't respond, Jason took it as a yes and grabbed the seat next to him. And despite looking like he hated them both, Tim sat down across from them with Duke.
"I'm Conner," Conner said to Duke, figuring they'd never spoken to each other. Duke smiled.
"Yeah, I've heard. I'm Wayne six."
This was clearly an old joke because Tim hissed in displeasure and Jason rolled his eyes.
"What? It's true. You know he calls me by the wrong name when he's stressed."
"He does that to all of us," Tim said, reaching into his bag and pulling out some homework.
"I'm just saying, anymore kids and this is going to be less a family, more an orphan collection."
"So an orphanage, then?" Conner asked.
"Oh, he already owns three of those," Duke said dryly.
Though the words were a bit harsh, everything in Duke's demeanor spoke of absolute warmth. He grinned, even as he mocked his adopted family. It was a lack of weight, Conner decided. Though Duke teased about being an orphan, he didn't talk or act like somehow the weight of the world had been placed upon him. In contrast his brothers both had the air of being guarded, and perhaps a little bit angry at the world in Jason's case.
Conner decided Duke was the most normal of the Waynes he'd met so far, and thus his favorite.
"So how was your weekend?" Jason asked. "Besides the part involving me, of course."
Conner tried to play nonchalant. "Boring." Definitely not full of google searches for the Waynes. "Tried to read." About Vampires. "Bought a ticket for next weekend."
"You're going to Metropolis," Tim said.
"What's in Metropolis that Gotham doesn't have?" Jason asked incredulously, "You're not going to homecoming? Man and I had all these plans."
Conner shrugged. "Dances are lame." Jason didn't look like he believed him for a minute so Conner quickly added, "I have to visit family."
"Grandparents?" Duke asked, good naturedly.
"Ah, not. Um. Legal guardian. Stuff."
Tim's face scrunched up, and Conner wondered if maybe that was his thinking face. The other boy tapped his hand against the table with a nervous energy, even as he asked, "Legal guardian? So who are you living with now?"
Conner tried to think of the best way to explain the situation without using names or outright lying. "I'm uh, living with my Bio Dad."
"You were adopted?" Tim suddenly seemed far more interested in him than previously. The other two watched them with equal fascination.
"Yeah. Kind of. It's complicated. But I decided I wanted to go to school in Gotham this year and so. Here I am."
"Here you are," Jason said solemnly.
"But you're from Hawaii," Tim said, annoyed. "You said you were in foster care in Hawaii."
"Did I?" Conner said. Boy these Waynes liked to pry.
"What are you reading?" Duke said, obviously containing the most social grace between the three of them.
"English torture book," Conner said.
Tim rolled his eyes. "If you can't get through that, you're going to hate next quarter."
Conner flushed. He knew he wasn't the sharpest tack in the English Lit box. Hell, his last three reading quizzes had ended with him hiding his grades from Cassie. If he had been at his tiny school back in Hawaii someone would have called for a parent teacher conference already. And he certainly didn't appreciate Tim's tone about the whole thing.
"It's boring and stupid, ok?" Conner pouted and reached to put the book away. Jason snatched it up.
"Aw, it's not that bad Kent. And if you're so good at English, Tim, why don't you help our friend out. You used to tutor that Lonnie kid, didn't you?"
Tim refused to look up from his homework, but his mouth moved and almost imperceptibly, Conner heard an "I could…"
"Did you want something?" Conner asked, a little too aggressively. He was quite done being teased for the day.
Tim scowled.
"We were just checking in," Jason said, not at all perturbed by Tim or Conner's mood swings. "If you change your mind about the dance let us know, we can get you a suit and ride in a heartbeat."
Conner rolled his eyes. He turned to Jason. "Thanks for my jacket back."
"No problem," Jason said, even as Tim stood to gather his stuff and marched away in a huff.
"Don't worry about him," Duke said, as they prepared to follow. "He's been in a weird mood lately."
Conner opened the conspiracy site full of blurry Wayne photos far, far more than he probably should have. His head hurt, and focusing on school felt impossible. He entertained himself instead with texting Maps some articles Clark had written on past crime waves, hoping she would like it. He then composed his own "the Waynes are vampires" theories. He even went to far as to propose the theory to Stephanie who laughed in his face.
"Now I know you're crazy."
They were in the back of English, and Cassie sat in front of them clearly itching to join the conversation but too beholden by her good grades to give in.
"But, I mean, come on. You have to admit it's more fun than thinking they're just rich jerks."
"Cass isn't a jerk," Stephanie challenged.
"Rich jerks, plus Cass then," Conner said, "But you have to admit they're absent a lot."
"And you think they're what, exactly, sucking the blood of homeless people on their skip days?"
"Well they sure aren't camping."
"Touché."
After English, Conner struggled through Spanish and Math. His mind wanted to keep constructing scenarios where he and Stephanie teamed up old noir film style, and tracked Tim down to an alley to discover his latest victim. This all consuming fantasy ate up so much of his time, he didn't even realize the bell to lunch had rung and scrambled to grab his stuff.
Stephanie would hear no more of his theories at lunch, and instead talk turned to the upcoming dance. Who was going with who, who had a car, who needed a ride.
Stephanie said Cassandra would pick her up, and so needed no rides, but also couldn't offer any. Jaime had gotten permission to use the car from his parents, and would be picking up Bart and Cass, both of whom had agreed they would all go together as friends. Conner said Clark would be willing to give a ride to any who needed it, and Greta shyly said that her date would be picking her up as well.
Stress hit Conner by surprise in chemistry. He had known going to Lex would freak him out, but in chem he found his head pounding, and gripped the table with a ferocity that whitened his knuckles. He couldn't exactly afford the drop in grades a missing lab would cause and reasoned he could tough it out.
Tim predictably let him touch nothing, but with more force than usual. They were mixing shit and it was turning blue. Conner didn't really understand.
"You should go to the nurse," Tim said tersely, as he balanced a drop of clear liquid on the end of a dropper.
"Yeah, well," Conner shrugged, wit leaving him.
Tim scowled, finished mixing whatever it was, grabbed Conner roughly by the arm and dragged him to Ms. Isley. Conner stuttered a little bit, taken aback by both the strength and the contact.
Tim could take a bullet, he reminded himself.
"Ms. Isley, Conner's being stupid, can I take him to the nurse?"
"Does he need a babysitter?" Isley asked. She peered over her glasses at Conner and whatever she saw, it made her wave Tim off. "If you've finished your lab, go."
Tim didn't actually let go of Conner the whole way to the Nurse. Which was cute if a bit demeaning.
"I can walk myself you know."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because you grabbed me."
Tim rolled his eyes.
"Nurse won't help."
"Well maybe she'll send you home."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Conner said, getting too closer for his own delirious good. They were almost to the office.
"No, I just don't want you dead."
"That why you drop kicked the mugger."
"I thought we'd moved past that," and Tim pouted, and stopped right before the admin office to look at Conner. He looked genuinely sad that Conner had brought up the mugging and Conner laughed.
"We will never get past that. You got shot."
"I told you-"
"I know, I know!" Conner stepped back, both hands up, "I'm crazy, I know. But I'm onto you Tim Wayne I swear."
Tim struggled to settle on a facial expression, and finally picked amused. "On to what?"
"Your secret."
"And that is…?"
Conner looked around to make sure the hallway was absolutely deserted. Maybe it was the pounding ache in his head, or his desperate need to annoy Tim Drake Wayne as payback for being rude, but he leaned in conspiratorially to Tim.
Tim leaned in as well, gaze intent on Conner's face.
"I know what you are," Conner whispered.
He had just long enough to register the abrupt confusion that colored Tim's face before the door behind them swung open.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you need to see the nurse?" Dr. Langstrom adjusted his glasses. "You can come in, I was just wrapping up some business with the blood drive."
Conner turned, for only a split second, and when he looked back Tim was gone. He sighed.
The headache would persist on and off all week, much to Conner's displeasure. There was a part of his soul, a very strong very real part, that yearned to find the nearest person, consequences be damned, and scream about the unfairness of it all. The absolute fuckery that his life had become. When he had had Roxy they would do just that while standing outside their cabin smoking, and knowing he would see her again was the only thing that kept Conner sane.
Friday afternoon Clark drove him to the station. He parked, walked Conner to the platform, and waited the twenty minutes it took for his train to arrive.
"Call me when you get there," Clark said.
On the train he settled into a stiff seat, unable to sleep. He watched Clark out the window as the older man waved and the train started picking up speed. And then Gotham disappeared into a blur of silver and grey.
