DISCLAIMER: I do not own Batman or it's characters. I only own Athena and whoever else I write into this narrative.

Seven:

With Great Knowledge, Comes Great Misery

Tick. Tick. Tick.

A few seconds to spare, before it all crumbled down with everyone inside, incinerated and reduced to nothing but ash, to drift away in the wind with the rest of the debris.

Tick. Three seconds.

Tick. Two.

Tick. One.

An explosion the size of a mushroom cloud, engulfed several blocks of buildings, wiping out the the tenants along with it. Booming over until it reached the next blocks untouched by the destruction, an ear splitting echo of past devastation. The city would grieve that day.

Athena shot up from the sofa, turning the television off. Ace, the german shepherd lifted his head off the sofa, cocking it to the side.

Seemingly, missing the best part of her movie, after the villain destroys most of the city and the heroes have to answer for it.

The last couple of days had been similar, she would hang with Damian if he wanted, until he had to go out there and be Robin. She would get the best sleep she could and, she would read and ignore more messages. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Her hearing still trumped the other senses, to her annoyance.

The study, his study which was right next door to the living room, bothered her to say the least. It contained the loudest clock in the house.

Stomping down the hall, she was greeted by a dead end window and the double doors of the study, with gold, slender knobs which slithered out like fancy snakes.

When she was younger, the study had been her forbidden fruit, one where she couldn't wait to snatch off the tree and sink her teeth into. One day, she did, she snuck inside. Dad caught her, of course, he caught her sitting right in front of that clock.

And, in front of that grandfather clock is where she stood now. The room itself was an heirloom, like that chair, that much was apparent with the lamps that had similar green shades once found in libraries.

The clock was the oldest relic, scratches on the wood, while the gold maintained its youth. Tick, tick, tick, went the clock, like a bomb waiting to go off, except it was never ending, stalling, for the right moment to have the batcave blow up in his face.

She never knew why she sat in front of it, to this day. The sound was alluring, the piece of wood towered over her, just like her father. Maybe, deep down in her child brain, she knew: My father is The Batman.

Athena reached forward, fingers taking hold of the hour hand, twisting it clockwise to 12, and then taking the minute hand, this time she twisted counterclockwise to the same number.

It had been awhile.

She stepped back, abruptly, as the clock stopped the incessant ticking, within the next instant, it slid over, a movement that seemed almost natural to it, revealing a dark passageway, one that looked to required torch light instead of a ceiling lamp.

Hesitation prevented her from taking a step forward. "Man, would that night vision come in handy now." But, the words fell on deaf ears, because once she took a step into the darkness, darkness it stayed. Feeling her way down the passage, the stairs were made of stone, unlike the classic approach the manor seemed to have. The deeper she moved into the tunnel, the damper it became.

At the end of the stairs, she stood. As if they had sensed her presence, welcoming her into their domain, bats flapped their wings overhead, screeching at the light which brightened her surroundings enough to reveal an open clearing. The stalagmites overhung the roof of the cave, while water seemingly rushed into a nearby pool, as if this place was big enough to hold a waterfall. If she had been wearing high heels, the echo would have been atrocious on the rocky ground, as she took steps toward the center, thankfully she was only wearing socks.

Stopping in front of a computer, that was as wide as she was with her arms outstretched, the screens as large as those in Times Square. Athena took a seat in the tall, leather computer chair, tempted to wheel around before getting down to business. Instead, at her motion, the screens brightened.

She cracked her fingers, a thought occurring to her.

Athena was not a hacker. Tech savvy? Maybe, thanks to watching her dad and her shit of an ex-boyfriend. Did she know know coding? Thanks to her college classes, yes. But, she doubted that would do her any good on this magnificent machine.

Her eyes darted back and forth. Not knowing the password, but attempting a coding trick, nonetheless. Hoping it would bring up the history.

Shaky fingers typed away on the spacious keyboard, the keys were unfamiliar to her touch, but the layout was not unknown to her, at all. A smile twitched at her lips, as her heart pounded in her chest, never had this feeling overtaken her, not since her first coding class. This was like a breath of fresh air, the first step to becoming more than just savvy.

A black window popped on the screen, her eyes went over the password last used, briefly, she scrolled down. The password was different each week, seemed to change every Monday, and today was Sunday.

Once she gained access, a list was revealed. All the crimes committed within the last few days were at her disposal. This was not her original goal, but curiosity had gotten the best of her and she couldn't help but skim.

She stopped. Lips parting as she clicked the link. The news report began.

"It's a sad day for Gotham City, after twelve gruesome murders were investigated this morning by GCPD at The Shoppe, a local coffee spot for college students."

"Oh, my god."

Athena's eyes widened, as she covered her mouth. At a lost for words, she listened on.

Her whitish blonde hair, blew in the wind, as she continued to speak, a wind howling at the top of its lungs, one that didn't belong to summer, but the frigid winter. "I am standing here today with a student who currently attends Eruditus College, she is one of the only students willing to speak out against this atrocity, today."

She tilted the microphone to the girl standing next to her. "Miss Poliski, is there anything you would like to say?"

Athena knew her. Sandra Poliski. An exchange student from Iceland.

The girl was stark pale, even with Gotham's sun. As she spoke, her complexion began to change to a bright pink. "I-I just can't believe something like this could happen in The Shoppe," her accent thicker as she struggled to speak, her eyes noticeably becoming glassy with every word, "I know Gotham is not the safest, but ever since I arrived here, people have told me that The Shoppe is like… a neutral ground-" She cut herself off, turning away from the camera, before she managed to do so, tears had began to fall down her cheeks. "I am sorry, I-I cannot continue."

"That's alright, Miss Polski, I thank you for making any statement at all," the reporter said, turning to face the camera again, shaking her head as she closed her eyes. "This… is a very sad day, indeed."

There was a pause, as she stared at something off camera for a split second, before looking back. "My name is Vicki Vale at the Gotham Gazette, back to you Douglass."

The clip ended. There were others. As she was about to click on the second, the hair on her arms stood, a chill creeping up, leaving goosebumps in its wake. A name rested on her tongue, just waiting to be said, instead she bit down on her cheek. It wasn't her, not everything was her. Still, there was a thump inside her gut, and it screamed.

Her mind started to work, as she minimized the tab, she didn't have all the time in the world. It would have to wait.

Now, in the computer's files. She did what any sane person would do if they had unauthorized access to the Batcomputer, she typed in her name. There was a single file, which upon pressing she was greeted with…

"Damn, its encrypted."

Athena rolled her eyes, trying everything she knew of, all of it coming to null. Her shoulders then tensed, her fingers stopped.

Footsteps.

It was only her brother. "What exactly are you doing?" The question was said in a way that dad would, like this was an interrogation and he wasn't talking to a family member, although this wasn't a surprise from Damian.

"Research."

What would he do? Grab her up from the seat and tell her she wasn't allowed in here? He would do that, but that was just too bad. Athena kept typing, her luck not getting any better, what a surprise.

A hand wrapped around her wrist, preventing her from using her right hand to type, fast for that matter. Not taking her eyes off the flashing red, Damian would get bored and leave eventually. Hopefully.

"You're not allowed in here and you are definitely not supposed to be on the computer."

Athena's fingers stopped, turning her head from the screen, to Damian, she met his stare. He looked at her as if she were a goddess in reality, one that slaughtered his whole family, for fun no less.

"I'm just as authorized to be down here as you are, any of you."

She looked to his grip on her wrist, biting back the instinct to lash at him. The tone of her voice took a certain seriousness and she wished the words hadn't come out as harsh, but it was the truth. She was still a Wayne.

He scoffed, "now you want to stroll in here, after you called us all criminals? I don't believe that's how it works."

"Not what I said," she snatched her wrist away from him, refraining from speaking through gritted teeth, "I said, vigilantism is against the law and I wouldn't have any part of it."

Damian stepped closed, folding his arms. "Even so, did you really think you would be capable of getting into whichever file this is?" The audacity to snicker, "how you even logged in, I'm astonished, with the genes you have from your whore of a mother."

Athena stared at him, the silence after his statement, bitter and angry. A blank stare, that didn't contain a quarter of the emotion she wanted to show, her fists clenched, anger seething within her, most of it stuck at the back of her throat, bile refusing to be released. Her eyes burned, a similar sensation to chlorine sneaking into them while swimming. She blinked it away.

A retort slithered from anger boiling away at her core, lashing out like a cobra stalking its prey. She kept her mouth closed, while thoughts spoke for her.

Are you upset your mother was a monster who never had a chance with dad? I bet it fucking stings knowing that you'll never have what I do-knowing that you'll always be a living reminder. His own flesh and blood, a mass murderer.

Boo-hoo, Damian. Boo-hoo.

There was a saying, she kept close to her, some words were better left unsaid, especially when she needed something.

Athena cleared her throat, standing up from the chair, real slow, her muscles seeming to work on their own. Don't any anything you'll regret. Don't. Don't. Don't.

"Don't you dare talk about my mother like that," she pointed a finger at him, eyes narrowed, steadying her breathing to pretend she wasn't as angry as she was, to pretend she didn't want to punch him square in the face, her thirteen year old brother.

Sadly.

"Or what?"

Another provocation, that she would ignore. Instead, she took a breath, the air in the Batcave was cold enough to cool down her temper.

"Look," she started, any source of blithe she usually contained was absent in her features, "I'm not trained for this, but i'm not clueless, either." Gesturing at the computer, before turning back to him, who was now raising an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued. "You're right about one thing, I can't get into the file, but I bet you know how."

He shook his head, "absolutely not."

"I'll take you to the arcade everyday for a week."

Not even taking time to consider the offer, "I already have Grayson for that."

Quite frankly, she was unbothered by this. Damian was her brother, she didn't have to love him, but chose to. That still didn't mean he wasn't an apple disguised as a prick on their family tree. Letting some of her previous anger seep outwards, she let him smile, as if he had gotten over on her, as if he had some effect. She turned several other bribes over in her head.

Damian's voice interrupted her, a wide smile plastered on his lips, like a some old disney villain.

"What about this, if I get into the systems for you, and I will, you have to spar with me."

Athena upturned the corners of her mouth. "Um, why?"

"Because," the smile then became a wolfish grin, "I've wanted to embarrass you since the day we first met, sister. Then, I can truly claim my title as the superior Wayne."

She stared blankly, letting his words register over and over, still, she couldn't wrap her head around the reasoning.

Rolling her eyes, she gestured toward the computer. "Whatever, twerp. On two conditions, you can't tell dad and you have to leave once its open."

"Deal. It's probable that it's about you anyway and, who in their right mind would care about you?"

Ten minutes after bickering and animosity thrown around in the cave, which now seemed much smaller than it had before, Damian grumbled off toward the training room, without so much as a see you later.

She considered that perhaps, he didn't want to see her later. It was clear that her being down here opened up a can of man eating worms, after what happened years ago.

"He sure can hold a grudge," Athena muttered, scrolling through the file.

Not to be self-important, but there had to be something here. If there was anything she knew about her dad, it was that he had his secrets and he had the secret's of others as well, some that they had no idea they even had. Maybe her secrets would connect to Malice and the nightmares? Something detrimental that he had chosen to keep from her in fear of her safety, or something stupid like that. Her safety was already being threatened, so what she knew now, couldn't hurt her.

In the file was nothing new. Her name, physical features, where she went to school, who she spoke to. Basic information.

Just about to scroll down further, the mouse accidentally moving over the number 19, her age. There was a link, bringing her to another file entirely. The Prosperis.

Now, why was this hidden? Her heart jumped in her chest, tasting the new found discovery.

There was text.

Entry 10[Final]: A month prior to the procedure, the conclusion is much different than anticipated, with the metagene altering itself as well as neutralizing the uncontrollable bursts of energy. There have not been any side effects, although, Athena has grown a considerable amount since the procedure. This could simply be her body reacting to the prosperis.

September 16th, 2011

Entry 11: Certain changes have prompted me to continue entries.

It has now been two months since the procedure and Athena now produces brain waves comparable to that of a one year old and appears to look as such. All growth happens between the dates 1st-16th. The only side effect the prosperis has taken, seems to link back to this.

October 16th, 2011

Entry 12: There is a clear pattern for Athena's growth spurts. According to tests, they seem to occur on the 8th of the month and end before the 9th. the day she was born, enabling a day of rest, and beginning the next 8th of the month, counting a continuous thirty days.

The growth seems to end before her day of birth, signifying some correlation to a birthday. A full cycle. 1 month=1 year

If my deduction is correct, Athena should be four years old by the fourth month she has been alive.

November 23rd, 2011

Now, her heart stopped dead in her chest, all her vital functions failing. She thought of nothing, reading through the entries. She could think of nothing. As her eyes widened, she closed her mouth, biting on her lower lip.

Entry 13: As suspected, time for us remains the same, while for Athena two months allows her enough time to theoretically develop into her second year of living. As of December 9th, Athena is currently four years old, her mind is in its fifth year, while her body has developed without any deformities, into that of a toddler.

Conferences with my colleagues on the more mystical path, deter my suspicions of magic. Athena's waves of 'bad luck' are continuously kept at bay.

She cries at night and the majority of the day, her growing pains are more severe than any child.

December 10th, 2011

With her eyebrows pulled together, she shook her head in complete and utter disbelief. The next entry was made most recently, she read aloud. "I stopped aging rapidly in… 2012, when I was technically thirteen," she muttered under her breath, eyes stinging from the lack of blinking and her refusal to cry. The last line, made her stomach sink to her feet. "With the rapid changes to her DNA, her internal structure is beginning to appear feline in nature. After thirteen months, this has not harmed any of her systems… all I fear is the day that will soon come when I have to take full responsibility for what I've done," she grit her teeth, "by proposing to Athena something I should have done in her youth, even if she disagrees. These next steps are crucial."

She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to turn off the computer, she bit down onto her lower lip, once again, beginning to type.

Almost wanting to slap herself awake from this dream, her typing grew aggressive, hard. Not only did he damn her to an unfortunate life, he also left her defenseless against whatever the fuck this is.

Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he say a single thing? He didn't know the outcome, no, but he suspected something, he took the chance, and for what? Now, here she sat, knowing everything she needed to, and still, she could do nothing about it. Not a damn thing.

It was him, that made her push what she was born with aside, like abandoning an arm, or a leg, or the mouth. A vital piece of herself, much like the heart. Misfortune pumped through her veins, and it always did, always will. And, maybe it was for a reason. Just as she used her lungs to breathe, she could have used the powers that be against that thing, instead, she stood there, useless and afraid. Athena, always afraid to act. Athena, always thinking.

So, maybe, just maybe, if he hadn't raised her the way he did. If he hadn't made those choices, then maybe, this wouldn't be happening. She could have had a fighting chance.

Athena's fingers stopped moving.

Never, never will she understand. She always thought, he was more of a man back then, because that was how mom painted him, but mom was clearly wrong. It pained her to see it this way now.

The only thing left, was the vigilante that had consumed him. And, apparently, not even she could change that.

As she stood, an unmistakable feeling spiraled in the center of her being, a dead thing crawling from the pits of Hell, reaching for life and vitality, reaching for her after these long five years.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

There was no television bomb. There was no clock. Only her.

The world drowned in crimson.

R&R, at your leisure!