AN: Hey guys, thank you so much for the support! I want to apologize for the late update. I'm just trying to piece the story together the way I want and that is causing a lot of rewrites. Please leave your inputs in the comments, I love to hearing what you guys think!

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, or however that saying goes. The thing is no matter whose eye you're looking through Gotham will never be beautiful. Now, I guess since technically I'd be classified as a tourist I can't say that, but I'm going to because I've been here for a total of two weeks. Two weeks and all that's covered the Gotham sky are grey clouds and smoke billowing out of every factory in the entire city. Hell, even Gotham's natives have constantly complained about how murky the air is and how gloomy the atmosphere surrounding them is.

Even now as I'm listening to the weather forecast on the radio the meteorologist sounds absolutely sick of it. "Today's forecast, just like the previous two weeks call for heavy storm clouds hovering over the central Gotham metro with a few scattered showers." He lets out a dry cackle before continuing. "Man, I've been saying the exact same forecast for twenty years."

A local advertisement for a pet grooming service cuts in quickly and I shake my head in amusement. I guess Devin Roscoe had finally cracked from the pressure of nothing ever changing. It was odd how only doing the same thing over and over can drive someone slowly out of their mind. Like what's your excuse for snapping? 'Oh, just on one of those many days I was walking my dog I realized I just couldn't do it anymore.

"In other news, crime alley is under strict police enforcement after a known contract killer has been announced as going rogue. In the words of what supposedly is an ex-aid of the notorious Falcon family, 'Victor Zsazz has grown fed up of his mistreatment at the hands of Carmine Falcon and has decided much like a rebellious child to do everything in his power to bring discord and shame to the Falcon name."

"A rebellious child," I scoff while heading to the kitchen. The acts of a killer who's been let off his leash is being described as a child sticking it to the man. It was hilariously inappropriate and no one at the radio station had understood that.

The kitchen of my apartment isn't very spacious, only taking up about seventy square feet. Only the necessities were provided, a dinky kitchen sink, a fridge from the sixties, and a gas stove that let out more gas than it actually used to heat my food up with. Was it the best setup for a newly independent living young adult? No, but it wasn't like I was going to be throwing dinner parties. This apartment just served as a roof over my head until I was done with this mission.

Grabbing a pot from the cabinet I fill it with water before turning the stove on and placing it on the back eye. A manila folder sits on the counter beside the stove and I bite my lip at how that was a fire hazard waiting to happen. I did that a lot, just leave my papers lying around for anyone to get a hold of. I can practically see the narrowed eyes and thin pressed lips of Ra's as he begins to chastise me.

'Jade, you are being careless. I have not taught you to do such things.'

Shaking him out of my head I pick up the folder and turn to the page I had earmarked.

Last night's battle with Mr. Freeze was exceptionally boring, to the point I was convinced I was actually watch a reenactment of some child's fantasy. It was like a never ending circle of him and the Gotham bat fighting for the upper hand without even really fighting. An ice ray blast here, a throwing star there, a whoosh of a cape over there and the frost form Freeze's suit completely covering the arena. Three hours I will never get back.

L: The bat is surprisingly quick on his feet, yes he hesitates but you can hardly spot that with a trained eye, let alone an untrained one. He didn't speak, the entirety of the fight he never spoke, only a grunt and a growl here and there (I'm starting to wonder if he's even human). He seems young, I mean when the police showed up they commented how they could only do what he does if they were in their younger year, therefore I'm assuming he's only a couple of years older than me. Which makes sense because of the arrogance he exhausts, tell me who actually revs the engine when fleeing from the scene.

N: He took a heavy blast from freeze's gun to his left side, it took him a good ten minutes to get back up, and even then he went on the defense until he was able to stun Freeze with one of his toys. He should be out of commission for a few days.

The bubbling of my water is what brings me back to the present. My tea bag lays in my mug awaiting the steeping process for it to transform in it's liquid gold form. Lifting the pot I carefully pour the water into the mug, not wanting another burn stretching across my hand. I actually need to look a little presentable today and not just by my own standards, but by society's.

Today I was job hunting, because even though the league supplied me with money it was only until I got onto my feet. Soon the bills, money for necessities and luxuries would be adding up. Therefore I needed a job, that way I could prove my grandparents wrong and prove to the league that Ra's does not bottle feed me like everyone assumes.

My job search starts at ten, which is about two hours away. I highlighted three places in the newspaper that advertised for help wanted. A small café as a waitress, a dojo for obvious reasons, and the last one was a complete long shot but I thought why not. The business that created Gotham as I have learned, Wayne Enterprises, was hiring for multiple positions. The one I was hoping to apply for was just an office aid, nothing too complicated.

Finishing my tea rather quickly than I would have liked I place the mug in the sink and go start getting ready. A simple pair of jeans and a long sleeved tee is what makes the list today. There was absolutely nothing wrong with being comfortable. My hair is slicked back into a low puff with two pieces falling in front of my ears. No makeup, with how rainy it gets here I didn't want to risk the possibility of it running.

Once I'm all ready I rush out the door to hail a cab so I'm not late. That's another thing, my time management skills, absolute trash. Like I'm ninety-nine percent sure I will be late to my own funeral.

The cab ride to Wayne Enterprises isn't that long at all, maybe twenty minutes top. The main building itself towers over the metropolitan area with its different branches all scattered around it, kind of like how an amusement park usually has a food court in the center.

When I enter the building I instantly shiver at the cold air that blasts me. The lobby is quite sparse, the only sound present is the clacking of heels against linoleum, fingers smashing keys haphazardly, and the faint sound of classical music playing overhead. A few people dressed in business attire are at what looks to be a little coffee shop tucked into the corner.

The receptionist desk is obnoxiously large, a circle that takes up the center of the lobby. Only a woman sits behind the desk and she's currently filing her nails as she talks on a headset.

Taking a calming breath I approach the desk with a smile on my face. "Excuse me, I was wondering if I could apply for the office aid position?"

Her grey eyes cut up to mine and she holds a steely gaze before taping a button on her headset. "Name," she asks curtly.

"Asia Queen."

Her fingers fly over the keys rapidly as she searches the database. "You aren't in here, did you have an appointment?" Her eyes are still on her computer but the question is clearly directed towards me.

"No, I didn't know that I needed one." Fishing through my purse I pull out the folded up newspaper and point to the words I had circled in purple ink. "The ad didn't say anything about an appointment, it just reads help wanted."

She does look up this time but with a snarled top lip. "That's common sense to call and get an appointment. You need an appointment otherwise I can't let you up and you'll be escorted out." She flashes a smile to accompany her words. "Good bye."

I blink rapidly trying to control the anger that I knew was rising. Shoving the newspaper back into my bag I get closer to the receptionist desk much to her annoyance. "Look," I glance at the silver name tag pinned to her blouse. "Angie, I didn't know I needed to call. Can't you just see who's free and ask if they could take an interview. I was really hoping to go home today with a job that supplies a steady paycheck."

Boredom has to be the only expression this woman had ever learned because that's all that covers her face. With one final glance she presses the button on her headset and returns to whatever conversation she was having prior to my arrival.

"Queen, was it?" The elegant voice rings out just as the elevator doors open. The woman is an older woman dressed in a maroon pantsuit that emphasizes her elongated structure. Brown lips are pressed into a thin line as she stands in the middle of the elevator doors, assessing me with blank eyes.

I had noticed her when I first came in. She was the only black woman in the entire lobby and she was more glamorously made up than anyone else her. She had been standing by the elevators with a leather folder in one hand, opened and silently going over its contents.

"I am, Asia." I leave the circulation desk and approach her with my hand stretched out. Her gaze darts down to my hand, lingering on the smudged nail polish that covers my nail beds.

"Yes," she grabs my hand and gives it a firm shake. "I am Molly Mathis and I will be interviewing you today."

"She doesn't have an appointment Mrs. Mathis," the receptionist is quick to step in. She's now standing behind the desk and leaning over the counter. "She needs an appointment, policy standards."

Mrs. Mathis doesn't glance back at the receptionist, she only hums in agreement before looking down at her watch. "Well, I've just had the board clear my schedule for the morning so I'm going to go ahead and fill it myself. Angie, why don't you put an interview for ten-fifteen on my appointment book." She nods and lifts her round eyes to connect with mine. "Yes, I do believe that will take care of our policy problem." She steps inside the elevator and I follow her, silently taking note of the way the people at the circulation desk were staring at us.

Her nails differ greatly from mine, where mine are a smudged purple hers are a ruby red polish that shines smoothly on her nails. They reach out almost in slow motion as she presses the letter C then the number 12 on the elevator pad. The doors close and the faint drum of the pulleys start up. Unlike most elevators there is no music playing and unlike most people Mrs. Mathis does not try to make small talk.

"I am going to take you up to the marketing side of the company, that is where we need the most hands on deck." The doors part open and she wastes no time in leading me down the hallway. "As you know Wayne Enterprises is a monopoly. We have our hand in many pools of industry and we're ever growing."

The halls are packed with people running to and fro, most of them with their arms filled with rolled up poster boards. There's a sense of calm chaos going around as co-workers yell at each of their for business plans and paperwork. Those who aren't yelling are busy working in their own offices or cubicles.

The atmosphere reminds me entirely too much of my childhood. Little me running around barefooted playing hide and seek with Oliver. The frantic calls for my dad when I wandered too far down the hallway and didn't know the way back. The early morning board meetings curled up in my father's lap listening to his heart beat and the muffled voices of the board of directors lull me to sleep.

"Right now we're looking for a administrative assistant. What kind of experience do you have?"

I curse the decision I had made to not let Ra's create me a whole new identity when I realized I had no experience. I was a seventeen year old kid who was homeschooled from eight grade until graduation. I had the bare minimum of social skills, no references, no technical skills, and the only job I have had prior was in the circus.

"Um, well I can type and work a fax machine. My grandfather runs a mill and I used to help in the office part when I was younger." It's not the complete truth but it also isn't a complete lie.

She gives a stiff unconvincing nod before leading me down another hallway. This one is composed entirely of meeting rooms with glass walls. In fact four of the eight rooms were in use right now, a projection going on in one and a presenter in the other two. The last meeting room doesn't clearly show who's talking because of the way people are sitting.

"That's reassuring, the last admin we had knew absolutely nothing." Her voice is flat but I can tell the distaste she had for the last aid by the way the corner of her lip lifts into a slight snarl. "We obviously had to let her go when she lost the paperwork for a contract that could have put us decades ahead of the rest."

Schooling myself so I don't infuriate this woman's already vulnerable prior dealings I focus on the meeting room to the right. It's more empty than the others surrounding it, only composed of five people sitting around a circular table. When I look a little harder I pinpoint the person talking to be a man about the age of my grandparents, grey hair receding and the tell tell signs of age maring his face. Even through the glass I can hear his raspy voice as he yells about something being completely unacceptable.

No one seems to be offended at his tone, each of them all somewhat paying attention to the clearly frustrated man. The only one who seems to be genuinely intrigued by his statement is a young man who sits directly across from the screamer. His hands are clasped on top of the table as he leans forward, clearly showcasing that he was indeed listening. With every other accusation the elder throws the young man's eyebrows jump slightly before he looks to another man to gauge his reaction.

"That seems like a pretty heated meeting, promise you won't put me in that department," I joke while gesturing to the meeting room.

Mrs. Mathis follows my hand and stiffens as she observes through the glass. "That, that is only for senior board members of the Company." She turns to me with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "And you assume you have already been offered the job."

"I was taught if you want something you take it, apologize later, or don't."

Her eyes sparkle with surprise before she nods slowly and begins walking again. I follow her down two more hallways until she leads me into a spacious office. It's not over decorated but it differs from what the offices advertised in magazines look like.

A bulky oak desk sits close to the back of the room in front of a window that gives a mediocre view of the land surrounding the building, also known as the parking lot. Bookcases line the wall to the left of her desk and a few knick knack awards are scattered throughout the shelves. Two chairs are positioned in front of her desk for whoever comes in to meet with her. To the right of the room is a small sitting area composed of a leather loveseat, coffee table and a matching love seat is across from it. Plants are positioned on both sides of the door and are almost taller than me.

"Please, come sit down," Mrs. Mathis instructs while sitting herself down behind the desk.

I oblige and sit across from her, letting my eyes scour through the sparse photos she has around her desk. One is her and two other men in what looks to be a courtroom. Each of them are dressed as professional as they can, her hair is in an Afro along with the other black man who's there. The last man is a white man who I instantly recognize as Thomas Wayne.

"You worked closely with Thomas Wayne, you and Luscious Fox?" My question brings a heavy amount of tension into the room and I almost regret asking it, almost.

Mrs. Mathis's gaze drifts to the picture of her, Lucious, and Thomas. There's no emotion on her face but her hand does try to reach out and touch the frame. I say try because before it can complete its action her other hand grasps around her wrist and gives it two squeezes.

"This is an interview on you, not me," she clears her throat and holds her hand out for the folder in my lap. "Your resume, please."

I fork it over without comment and watch silently as she looks it over. It gives me time to study her without any restraint. There is no ring on her finger, and no evidence of a tan line, deducing she'd most likely never been married. The pictures on her desk are of purely work related moments. There are no pictures of any type of family members, therefore she was probably a workaholic. There is no complementary fruit or water, and there is no coffee station, so I wouldn't put money on her often having visitors or meetings.

"You're only seventeen," she questions while still reading over my resume.

"Yes." I respond back shortly.

"And your parents are okay with you working," she raises her eyes to me, "in Gotham."

I snicker. "Well my parents are dead, but my grandparents will be fine with it."

She gives one more quick glance to my resume before shutting it and setting it down on her desk. Her nails tap dully against the wood as she leans back in her chair. She's thinking about how to approach this. She wants to know if I'm worth the trouble of hiring, and in all honesty I'm not. This job wasn't necessarily a must have, every fast food chain would hire a teen who needs a job off the bar. I had only decided to apply because why not, you never know, and because the hours give me the perfect opportunity to study my target.

"I'm going to be frank with you, Ms. Queen." Her chair squeaks as leans forwards. "You're a mess."

An understatement I think but don't say.

"You're a teenager with a resume as long as your index finger. You seem very snarky and while that might work for some people it won't for you, because you're a black little girl pushing her way into an industry that's been taken over by old white men." Her words are sharp as she speaks quietly and quickly, making sure I understand what she's saying. "I want to give you a chance because god knows anyone else won't, but you need to understand who you represent. Another black woman who's clawed her way up and isn't going to let anyone pull her down, let alone an administrative assistant."

Her hand reaches underneath the desk and when it reappears it has a set of keys, and a guest name badge in it. She hands it over before standing and walking to the plants beside the door to start watering them.

"You start tomorrow morning, be here at eight a.m., and do find you some professional work attire for tomorrow."