"How's the homework, Kris?"
The teen in question looked up from her math textbook as her father walked into the room, reaching for the coffee. She was perched at the kitchen counter as she finished her math homework rather begrudgingly. Her friends were all currently celebrating the end of the volleyball season, but due to her grounding, she wouldn't be attending any social gatherings for at least another month.
"Fine." She answered shortly, then looked up at him again as she scribbled down another answer. "I'll probably be done by around six," She noted, tone a little lighter, "Which would leave me plenty of time to-"
"To get some reading in before you spend time with your dad; yep, that sounds wonderful." Bruce cut her off brightly, immediately shutting down her attempt to persuade him into letting her leave. He turned, Worlds Best Dad mug in his hand. "Which is great, because I made some dinner reservations for us."
Kris scowled, fighting the eyeroll that was coming up. She knew this was coming; she should've gotten him Worlds Strictest Parent on a mug for Father's Day last year instead.
Ever since her little escapade at the bank, and upon finding out Jonathan had been contacting her, she'd been grounded. And not just come-straight-home-on-weekdays kind of grounding, either. He took her phone, telling her he already had a new one with a new number on the way, and her laptop. She was forbidden from any social outings for a month, dependent upon her behavior, and she couldn't leave the penthouse without some kind of adult supervision. Which meant he dropped her off at school every morning and picked her up, as well. What's worse was that he seemed to take pleasure in hugging her good-bye and loudly calling her 'Krissy' in front of all the other students since he knew how much she hated that nickname.
Her dad was evil when it came to punishments.
"Where?" She finally muttered in defeat, and he smiled triumphantly.
"Just that new place I bought out, Republique."
Kris stopped writing, raising her hazel eyes to her fathers. "That's one of the most expensive restaurants in town. Kind of weird to take your kid there."
"Well, it's been a while since you and I have had a night out, and I've invited a date."
Now she groaned. If there was one aspect she could not stand about her father's cover lifestyle, it was the women. Rachel was about the only one she could stand, every other female that came in was either threatened by her or never took her seriously. They all seemed to think they were there for the long run, so it was funny when Bruce never called them again.
Was that mean? Probably.
"Oh, come on, you'll like her." Bruce tried to defend, but they both knew he was kidding himself. She hated all of his dates.
"Which model or heiress is it this time?" She muttered, erasing a mistake and aggressively swiping the shavings off her papers. "Or did you finally break down and ask out a stripper?"
"Kristina." He admonished sharply, his tone advising her to shut up. She did but refused to knock the glare off her face before he spoke again.
"Her name is Natasha, she's the Prima Ballerina for the Russian ballet. Since they're in town, I thought I'd show her around, and she's eager to meet you." He explained, and it was then that Kris looked up again, an eyebrow raising.
"Wait, wasn't Rachel just telling me that Harvey would be taking her out to this super exclusive restaurant tonight?" She wondered aloud. "It would be awfully weird if that just so happened to be Republique."
Bruce's face dropped to an innocent, neutral expression, and he shrugged. "I don't know, whoever Rachel chooses to date is her business."
But Kris saw right through him, and grinned, laughter bubbling up. "So, we're crashing Rachel's date with 'Mr. White Knight', yes!" She cheered.
"No," Bruce started, trying to redeem himself, "I'm simply taking my daughter and my date to a nice restaurant for some bonding time, that's it."
She snorted, twirling a long strand of hair around her finger. "Yeah, right." But she dropped it, mischievous smirk still planted on her face as the pair sat in silence for a few moments.
"Would I get in trouble if I knocked a drink onto his lap?"
"Kristina!"
A sleek black car rolled up to the curb of a restaurant, and two valets stepped forward to open them. Bruce Wayne and a gorgeous blonde in a tight-fitting black dress stepped out, the billionaire walking around to hold out his arm to the woman. Out of the backseat came a beautiful teenage girl, dressed in a forest green dress that reached her knees in a flowing, tulle fabric. She smiled and thanked the valet, stepping forward and taking her father's other arm.
The car ride hadn't been fun for Kris, but it also hadn't been nearly as bad as she'd been expecting. Despite being a ballerina, Natasha was pretty cool, and she was asking genuine questions to Kris about her hobbies and school. Learning about the rigorous training that the dancer went through also gave them something to talk about, much to her father's delight.
Once they were inside, though, the teens eyes were roaming over the heads, looking for a particular brunette. As they walked in, she caught the person in question, and bounded over as her father went to call her back.
"Rachel!" She greeted eagerly, running up to hug the woman. Rachel turned to see the teen and smiled back, standing to wrap her in a warm hug. She'd missed the younger girl, having not been over to see her in a few weeks. She'd been so busy with their current case she'd only ever had time to call her.
"Oh, look at you, Kris!" Rachel complimented, pulling back to brush a strand of brown hair over the girl's shoulder. "You look gorgeous tonight, sweetheart."
And she meant it. Kristina had already grown up so much since Rachel had first met her just over three years ago. The girl was now quickly approaching womanhood, and Rachel knew without a doubt that it was giving her father anxiety. Kris was beautiful, and only getting more so as the days went on. Poor Bruce would be chasing boys away with a stick.
"Thanks." The girl accepted brightly, straightening out her dress. Rachel put a hand on her shoulder and gestured to the blonde man sitting across from her, who was watching the interaction with some shock.
"Kris, this is my boyfriend, Harvey Dent. Harvey, this is Kristina Wayne."
Harvey stood, sticking out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Kristina." He smiled charmingly, but Kris only smiled tightly back.
"Just Kris." She answered in a fake-polite tone, moving to shake his hand.
"Rachel!" Bruce's voice made Kris smirk rather deviously, and she stepped out of the way as her father approached, watching him greet Rachel. "Fancy that."
"Yeah, Bruce." Rachel returned, smiling tightly at her old friend. "Fancy that."
Bruce and Natasha stopped at the table, Rachel and Harvey had both sat back down at that point, and Bruce placed his hand on his daughters shoulder. "Natasha, Rachel," He introduced his friend and date to each other, "Rachel, Natasha."
"Natasha," Rachel repeated, eyes narrowing in realization, "Are you the…"
"The Prima Ballerina of the Moscow ballet." Bruce confirmed proudly, "Yes, she is."
"Harvey's taking me next week." The brunette told them, and Bruce turned to the blonde man.
"So you're into ballet?"
Kris couldn't stop the snicker that escaped her but swallowed another upon Rachel's stern glance in her direction.
"Bruce," Rachel seemed to announce in a rather warning tone, "This is Harvey Dent."
"The famous Bruce Wayne." Harvey greeted as the men shook hands, "Rachel's told me everything about you."
"Well, hopefully not everything."
Kris and Rachel made eye contact at that, both seeming to mentally agree that comment was a little too cocky.
"So, lets push a couple of tables together." Bruce suggested, and Kris nodded eagerly. Harvey frowned, looking around.
"I'm not sure they'll let us-"
"Well, they should." Bruce cut him off. "I own the place."
Once the group was seated together and talking, Kris couldn't help but tense when Natasha brought up the kind of childhood Gotham brought.
"Who would want to raise children in a city like this?" The Russian asked, and Bruce shrugged, placing a hand on his daughters shoulder.
"Kris and I were raised here, and she's one of the best kids I know."
The teen raised an eyebrow at her dad, being mentally reminded of how she was currently grounded for skipping school and then getting caught up in a bank robbery as Harvey spoke up.
"Is Wayne Manor even in the city limits?" He asked, the question clearly a dig at the pair, but Bruce came back on him before Kris could.
"The Palasades? Yeah, they are. You know, as our new DA, you should really learn where your jurisdiction ends."
Kris smirked into her water as Bruce winked at her, both attempting not to laugh at Harvey's annoyed expression as Natasha continued.
"I mean a city that idolizes a masked vigilante."
"Gotham is proud of one of its citizens for standing up for what's right." Harvey argued, and Kris couldn't help but blink in surprise. Of all the things Harvey seemed to be, supporter of the Batman hadn't originally been on that list.
"No, Gotham needs more hero's like you." Natasha admonished, "Elected officials. Not a man who thinks he is above the law."
"Well, if the law makers and enforcers did their jobs, maybe he wouldn't be needed." Kris argued, unable to hold her tongue as she remembered her childhood. The amount of times cops and politicians had turned a blind eye to her suffering and the suffering of so many others came to the forefront of her mind, and she felt Bruce put his hand on her back comfortingly.
"I mean, she has a point." Bruce nodded at Natasha and Kris was reminded that he had to look like a doubting man. "Who appointed the Batman?"
"We did." Harvey disagreed, looking somber. "When we let scum take over our city."
"This a democracy, Harvey-"
"When an enemy was at the gates, the Romans would suspend democracy and appoint one man to protect the city." Harvey interrupted, "And it wasn't considered an honor, it was considered a public service."
"Harvey, the last man they appointed was named Cesar and he never gave up his power." Rachel reminded him playfully, and Harvey shrugged.
"Ok, fine. You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain." The DA admitted, but there was still a fire in his brown eyes. "Look, whoever the Batman is, he doesn't want to do this forever. Why would he? He's looking for someone to take up his mantle."
Kris's eyes went downcast to the table at those words, almost unable to look at her father. She knew what the statement did to him, how it made him feel. And the thought of her father not being Gotham's hero anymore gave her mixed feelings. A part of her looked forward to the day that she didn't have to worry about him being shot or beheaded or mangled or any number of things. But another part, a smaller, more childish part, didn't want anyone but her father defending her. It didn't trust anyone that wasn't her father to defend her.
"Someone like you?" Natasha asked doubtfully, but the man only shrugged.
"Maybe, if I'm up to it."
Natasha chuckled, holding a menu up over Harvey's eyes. "What if Harvey Dent is the caped crusader?"
Harvey only shook his head, looking over at Rachel. "I think if I was sneaking out every night, someone would have noticed by now."
A scowl grew over Kris's face as the couple took each other's hands, looking into the other's eyes. The PDA was enough to make her nauseous, but her father's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Well, I'm sold, Dent. I'm going to throw you a fundraiser."
"You are?" The teen muttered in surprise, but winced Bruce lightly kicked her under the table.
"That's nice, Bruce, but I'm not up for re-election for three more years." Harvey started to decline, but Bruce only shook his head.
"No, you don't understand. One fundraiser with my pals, and you'll never need another cent."
The rest of the dinner seemed to go without incident, but the entire time, Kris was distracted. As they were finishing their dessert, she looked up from her piece of devils food cake to her father, frowning.
What if Dent's right?
What if he doesn't have that much longer left?
Just over a week later, Kris had just finished changing out of her school uniform and was heading back into the main area of the penthouse, now clad in a more comfortable jeans and t-shirt. She ran a hand through her hair, happy that she had finished all her homework in study hall that day and was free to spend some time with her father before he went out that night.
But as she descended the stairs, she saw Bruce and Alfred were facing the TV, their backs turned towards her. Neither appeared to notice her arrival as Bruce turned up the TV, the anchor man's face somber.
"Please be warned," He was saying, "The images are disturbing."
It cut to a new video; this had been taken with some kind of low-end camcorder. The video was shaky and disorganized, and she could hear the camera man panting slightly, as if he was trembling and over-excited.
Finally, the lens pointed to a man tied to a chair. Kris swallowed when she realized it was another copycat; citizens who tried to impersonate her father. The man was sweating and trembling, but clearly attempting to be brave.
"Tell them your name."
The voice was high-pitched, and sent chills down Kris's spine. The voice itself sounded…unhinged, like the person possessing it was barely clinging to reality. The hairs on the back of her neck seemed to stand up as the copycat responded, voice trembling.
"Brian…Douglas."
"And are you the real Batman?" The voice asked, giggling slightly at the end. The copycat shook his head.
"No?" The voice asked mockingly, then suddenly deepened violently, almost to a guttural growl. "Then why do you dress up like him?!"
The man behind the camera reached forward, yanking off the faux mask. It was then Kris saw the hand was clad in a glove, dark purple and leather. She tilted her head to the side, familiarity niggling the back of her brain. Where had she seen those gloves before?
The cameraman giggled hysterically again, dangling the mask in front of the camera before throwing it off to the side. The copycat, Brian, spoke again, voice still trembling as he fought to sound braver.
"He's a symbol; a symbol that we don't have to be afraid of someone like you!"
The camera shook again as the man behind it loomed closer, his voice growing deeper and more threatening. Kris was reminded of the street dogs she was always avoiding when she still lived in the group home, his voice like the yipping barks that suddenly dropped to a threatening snarls and growls.
"Yeah? But you do, Brian, you really do." He grabbed Brian's hair, yanking his head around painfully. Kristina's chest tightened as Brian whimpered, and the camera man shushed him mockingly, stroking his face with the back of his glove.
"Look at me." He requested quietly, the lens zooming out again as the man backed up. Brian's eyes stayed stubbornly on the floor, and the camera lens shook. "LOOK AT ME!" The man suddenly roared, and Kris jumped inadvertently.
When Brian's eyes raised back to the camera, it swung, the scene blurring, before it landed on a face.
The face was awful, gruesome; covered in white paint and with greasy, shoulder length hair that had been tinted green. The teens eyes went straight to the red lines on either side of his mouth, painting a gruesome looking smile.
No, not lines. Scars.
"You see, this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham!" The killer-clown admonished in his high-pitched voice, the camera still shaking and moving around. "You want order in Gotham? Then Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in. Oh, and ever day that he doesn't, people will die. Starting tonight." He brought the camera closer, "I'm a man of my word." He began laughing maniacally, baring yellow teeth at the camera in something akin to a snarl, and Brian's screams of horror joined the laughter, the two sounds making Kris's stomach roll.
Who the hell was that?
Miles and miles away, in an indistinguishable warehouse down by the water, a giggling figure sat watching the news coverage on a small, decrepit TV.
Everything in the room was decrepit, actually. An old, squeaky cot was pushed into the corner, and a door that was ajar showed a moldy, dirty bathroom. The room itself was pure chaos, covered in newspaper clippings, pictures, dollar bills, and random pieces of paper. The pictures had been drawn on and scribbled on with bright red Sharpie, depicting gruesome smiles that matched his own.
Once the coverage ended, the Glasgow-scarred man stood, still giggling, as he walked over to a table in the corner. This table was also covered in chaos, but unlike the rest of the room, it only held pictures of one person. One girl, actually.
She was young; no more than fourteen or fifteen maybe. If his mind was still sane enough to remember the timeline, she had to be fifteen on the dot. With a birthday in April, most likely. She had long, dark brown hair that nearly hit her waist, and thought most of the pictures were black and white, some were colored. And those were the ones he found himself looking at the most, because in them, he could see a familiar set of hazel eyes staring back at him, right into his own.
They were all sorts of pictures; some he'd had a henchman take, others were from paparazzi, and some from security cameras. In most, she didn't appear to notice the camera or was pointedly ignoring it and was busy doing other tasks. He found these the most intriguing, the things she was doing. She always had something in her hands; books, messing with jewelry she had on, phone, etc. In several she was fiddling with a Rubix cube, and in a colored one, he saw she had finished it. She was wearing the same outfit, which meant it had only taken her a maximum span of a few hours.
She looked exactly like her mother. He hadn't seen or heard from Elizabeth in years, and he knew now that she was most likely dead. It didn't sadden or disappoint him, not like it should have. She'd been a good lay and a fun project to have on him when he was younger, but she'd been too clingy. He just got bored eventually.
He wasn't sure if knowing about Kristina before he left would have changed anything, but it certainly did now. He wasn't sure how she changed anything, exactly, but he just knew she did. It was fine, though, because he'd meet her soon enough.
It looked like he'd be adding family reunion onto his current list of objectives.