Your apartment was on the way outside of town, making you ride several trains to get there. You were technically still a student at Gotham University, but you had managed to snag a really cheap apartment with a friend of yours and were now living outside of campus. This suited you well considering you had to go to and from the school to get to work. You got home about 7pm and walked in on your roommate eating popcorn and watching a Bourne movie. She waved at you, and you walked through the living room and into your bedroom. Turning the switch on, you closed the door and fell onto your bed in exhaustion, questions reeling through your mind. Tomorrow you'd have to get up for two classes in the morning and then rush through traffic to Wayne Enterprises at 2pm. You took off your coat, changed into your pajamas of an extra-large shirt and panties and then climbed into bed before turning on your computer and doing some more research. That was the thing about being a journalist: you have a lot of homework. You fell asleep around 1am, and got up to the annoying sound of your alarm clock around 8am. Groaning, you threw off your covers and slowly got out of bed. Next door you could hear your roommate's snores echoing off the walls. Janette was never a morning person, all of her classes were later in the day.
Deciding that you should probably wear something nice to the Wayne interview, you changed into a more formal blue dress and heels. You smeared on some eyeliner and mascara before grabbing a piece of toast and making your way out the door. At this time of the day people were already moving about on their way to work or school. You dutifully rode the train for a few stops before getting off near the University. Students piled around you, forcing you to join the herd towards the main doors. The weather was turning out to be a pretty perfect day as the sun was creeping up into the sky.
For the first two hours of your day you had Psychology 302 and Economics 422 to get through. You sat in class, listened to the teachers lecture, and took some notes. While you listened your mind couldn't stop but wander to the conversation you had with the Greyson boy. It sounded so…rehearsed. And he had been very surprised when you made the observation . You tapped your pen on your notebook deep in thought. The rest of the morning passed as such. Your mind going a hundred miles an hour. Of course you didn't want to go snooping around in a private man's life, however, your curiousity bone was tingling and you couldn't help but scratch it. The morning finally rolled along and you found yourself back on the train and heading for the large WAYNE Enterprise building in the center of Gotham. You had to give the man credit…he sure knew how to make a presence. People milled around the area, doing what they did with their day. Business men practically jogged past you with wire-rimmed glasses and cell phones out. You walked past them and straight into the building.
Stratigically placed windows let in as much light as possible. Everything was made of black brick and glass. A reception desk sat in the middle of the first floor. A blonde, skinny woman sat in the desk paging people and typing away on a computer. You shuffled over and gave her your best to-do smile. She didn't even look up at you. So, you cleared your throat forcing her to look up at you. She rolled her eyes as if you were just some pesky kid, and clicked off her headset. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice a little nasally. You forced yourself to keep a hold of the smile, better to be nice and make a good impression.
"Yes, hello, I'm Juliet Matthews I called to make an appointment with Mr. Wayne for a news interview," you stated, pulling out your press pass. The woman glanced at the pass and then back at you, her eyes squinting maliciously. Finally, she picked up the phone and paged Wayne. There was some quiet talking between them before she put the phone back down, sighed, and gestured for a guard to escort you to his office upstairs. You followed the muscular guard up the stairs and passed several important looking people before arriving in a small living room-like space. Another receptionist was waiting, and she bade you into the next room. The guard stayed in the livingroom as you walked into Wayne's office.
It was a large round room with a large oak desk at the end. A couch and an end table sat in the corner with a few old magazines. A double paned window sat behind the desk letting in a lot of open air and sunshine. You walked forward and caught your first look of Bruce Wayne. You could immediately see what girls liked about him. His pictures did not give him justice.
The infamous Bruce Wayne was very broad and muscular. You could see this clearly even though he was wearing a black suit. His hair was gelled back slick, showing his fashion and modern tastes. You felt a tingle down your spine as you suddenly felt too young and too stupid to talk to this man. Every confidence fled from your skin, however, you took a deep breath and pushed yourself forward. You would not let this prissy billionaire intimidate you! As soon as you stepped forward Bruce Wayne looked up at you with analytical blue eyes. At first his gaze was as VERY intimidating. His first glance you wanted to run from the room and pee yourself. However, his gaze softened, and his gestures were warm and inviting. He stood up professionally and shook your hand. Gesturing for you to take a seat, he sat back down and folded his hands together.
"Hello, Mr. Wayne…I'm Juliet Matthews. Thank you for seeing me so soon," you said politely. He smiled and waved his hand as if it was nothing. You pulled out your recorder and notebook and got ready for the interview. "I'm doing a personality piece of you for the Gotham Chronicle, and I needed to ask you a few questions for the story." Wayne nodded his head in understanding but then he frowned and examined you closer.
"Aren't you a little young to be a journalist?" he asked curiously. You smiled knowingly. You got this question a lot. You pushed back a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
"Technically I'm just an intern…but for all intents and purposes, I'm a journalist for this story," you informed him. Bruce nodded his head slowly. You cleared your throat and got down to business.
"So, Mr. Wayne, tell me a little about your company."
For the next 15 minutes you were treated to a slight overview of the whole company. Apparently they dealt mainly in technology but dabbled in pharmaceuticals and medicine. Wayne boasted of having control of several scientific research centers in the Amazon and other forests, along with one in the North Pole. You listened and wrote down a note here or there. For some reason, this kind of information didn't make you happy. You were still yearning for the inside scoop about who this man really is. Finally, he stopped his rant and looked at you expectantly. Clearing your throat, you nodded your head in a mock understanding.
"That sounds…very fascinating…you definitely rule a pretty large empire…but, I want to hear about the REAL Bruce Wayne. Tell me, what do you like to do for fun?" you asked, trying to get to the heart of why you were there. Wayne looked at you for a moment before leaning back and smiling.
"Well, I like to go hiking…mountain climbing…cave diving…," he said off-handedly. You nodded to yourself, only jotting these things down. You already knew that.
"So, what caves have you been down?" you asked mainly out of curiousity. There was a pause on Bruce's end that made you look up at him. He cleared his throat, and tried to put on a charming smile. For some reason he seemed stumped by this seemingly innocent question. You conspicuously wrote another note down and smirked slightly.
"It doesn't seem like you know a lot about your own hobbies Mr. Wayne," you said slyly. However, before he could respond you waved your hand in a nonchalant manner and proceeded on with the next question. No reason to make him nervous or upset…you didn't want to be kicked out.
"So, on a more personal note…I saw that you once adopted a boy by the name of Richard Greyson. I'm sorry to hear about his parents. How long have you known Mr. Greyson?" you asked, switching the topic to his ward. Wayne raised an eyebrow at this question. He did not come prepared for this. He suddenly smirked and gave a soft chuckle.
"Wow, you really do your homework…," he stated. He sighed and smoothed back his already slick hair. "Dick and I had met a few years before his parents tragedy back when he was a young acrobat. At the time he had been just an innocent boy…but after the incident…he became lonely and afraid. I decided to take him under my wing. And well….here we are today." He smiled grandly, however, you noticed how his form had gone rigid and how his teeth and jaw were set. He didn't want to talk about this….there was more to it…but you just couldn't tell…
"This incident…what happened exactly?" you asked softly. Bruce's jaw set even further, and he sat up straighter.
"It was a charity organization for the well-to-dos around Gotham. The circus was here, including the famous Flying Greyson family. During the show, a supervillian by the name of Penguin interrupted the show and began firing blasts into the audience. The Greyson family tried to help, but they ended up falling from the high wire…all except Richard. When the Penguin madman had been detained, I quickly went to Dick's aid, and we've been together ever since," he stated this quickly and stoically, as if he wanted to change topics. However, you didn't let him off the hook so easily.
"I heard that Batman showed up and saved the day," you said quietly. There was a pause on his end in which he stared you down. You shivered slightly, but you held his gaze. Finally, he nodded his head slowly.
"Yes, he was. He helped detain Penguin….if you already know the answer to the questions you're asking me Miss Matthews then what is the point in asking them?" he asked, his voice growing cold and hard. You smirked a little and shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly and turned the page in your notebook. You got back on the subject and began asking him easier questions like: What was it like being a father and a mentor? What does he expect for the future of Wayne Enterprises? What are his plans for the summer? Where does he like to vacation? Finally, an hour and a half later you spent all of your questions and you recorder battery. You flipped the notebook closed and smiled at Mr. Wayne. He sat back in his chair, seeming to be glad that you were finished. You stood up, showing that you were done with the interview. Wayne followed suit and shook your hand once again. This time there was a slight spark to his eye when he analyzed you.
"Thank you so much for the interview, Mr. Wayne," you said, invoking the mandatory politeness. He nodded his head.
"It has been a pleasure Miss Matthews…I look forward to reading this story in the Chronicle," he stated. He pushed a button for the guard, and the big lumbering muscleman walked in. He gestured to you. "Please make sure that Miss Matthews gets to the lobby safely." You smiled at this. In reality he was saying "make sure Miss Matthews leaves". The guard gestured for you to lead, and you walked out of the room. You were lead down the hallway when you spotted a door at the end marked RESTRICTED ACCESS. Every curious bone in your body screamed for you to go and check it out. You glanced at your guard, his jaw was set and he would obviously not let you pass through there. Clearing your throat, you gave him a genuine smile.
"Uh, is there a bathroom around here?" you asked quickly. The guard looked at you and then lead you down the hallway and to the right. You thanked him then quickly snuck in. In reality, you didn't need to go to the bathroom. What you needed was to get some information on this restricted door. Nobody was in the bathroom with you, so you cracked open the bathroom door to see that the guard was standing with his back to the door at the end of the hallway. Regulating your breathing, you made your toes silent, and you crouched down on your heels and slowly crept down the adjacent hallway. The door sat at the end, and you stood up straight and attempted to jiggle it open. However, it was stuck tight. Frowning, you blinked once and did a swift, solid kick on it. It didn't even budge. You squinted your eyes and glanced down at the keypad attached to the handle. You groaned inwardly. It would take forever to get the combination! Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. You picked out your blush pad and brushed some of it on the keypad. A few prints began appearing, and you did a mental high-five to yourself. It looked like the password had the numbers 2,4,6, and 8 in it. The make-up appeared darker on the 8 so you assumed it was the last one used. You typed in 4628 and got a beeping sound. Scratching your neck, you typed in 2648 and the light popped up as green. Feeling the excitement course through your veins, you pushed through the door.
Everything was dark in the room. You flipped on the light and to your surprise saw a massive amount of computers and file drawers. You carefully stepped in and slowly walked around, taking stalk of everything that was available to you. The computers were password protected, but the files looked pretty open. You made your way over and slid the first one open. You picked through them, reading up about statistics and the cost of everything. You shifted through the first drawer, then went to the second. This one was in red. You pulled out the first folder and glanced through it. It looked like Wayne Tech had began building defense equipment like some kind of x-ray gun, an electric shock ray…machines that weren't seen on even the most modern of soldiers. You raised an eyebrow at this and took a picture with your phone. Before you could continue snooping, the door opened and in walked the guard. The guard looked surprised to see you there, and very angry. He walked over and grabbed you by the arm, roughly towing you out the door. You struggled against his hold. "Let me go!" you hissed, pulling back. He just marched you forward shaking his head in disbelief.
"Kids these days…," he whispered more to himself. He was continuing to pull you down the hallway when a voice from behind caused him to stop.
"Let her go, Harry." The guard, apparently named Harry, stopped in his tracks and turned around. You looked and saw a muscular boy with dark hair standing there with his arms folded across his chest. He walked forward and you could see that he had extremely blue eyes and the hint of a smirk on his face. He looked to be about your age. The guard's eyes got wide when he saw the boy and he immediately let go of your arm.
"But Mr. Drake, she was snooping around in the file room…," he said. The 'Mr. Drake' waved his hand away, like it was no big deal. "It's fine. I'll make sure she gets out of the building without any more snooping," he said, reassuring the guard. The man sighed and rolled his eyes. He walked away muttering under his breath about 'hooligans'. You turned and smiled at the boy. You also carefully analyzed him.
"Thanks for that," you said suspiciously. The Drake shrugged his shoulders and stepped closer. Like any other guy he gave you the up-and-down before holding out his hand.
"I'm Tim Drake," he said, introducing himself. You shook his hand, surprised at how strong he seemed.
"I'm Juliet Matthews," you responded. He smiled and smoothed his spikey hair back. You raised an eyebrow expecting more. "So…do you want to tell me why that guard does whatever you tell him to do?" you asked, your curious bone tingling. Tim raised an eyebrow, looking at you as if you should already know the answer to that question.
"Bruce Wayne is my legal guardian…," he said. Your mouth opened a little in surprise, and you almost smacked yourself in the face. Of course! You smiled and pulled on the ends of your hair nervously.
"Of course…oh my gosh this couldn't be more perfect!" you said in an excited tone. Tim's smile grew bigger as he heard you say this.
"Perfect?" he asked with a glint in his eye. You pulled out your recorder and notebook.
"Yes. I'm doing a personality piece on Bruce Wayne for the Gotham Chronicle….care to give an interview?" you asked pleadingly. Tim shrugged his shoulders, and you sat down in the corner and began asking a few questions.
"I hope you don't mind me asking but…how did you come to be under Bruce's care?" you asked gently. Tim sighed and pushed his hair back.
"When I was young, my parents were killed by a madman…at the time my family was pretty close to the Wayne family…so, Bruce felt bad for me and took me, gave me a home, a place to stay, food to eat, a pretty good education…," he trailed off. You narrowed your eyes. A madman had killed his parents too…and Richard Greyson's…that was just too coincidental. You raised your eyebrows and leaned against the wall.
"Wow…looks like Bruce really has a thing for kids whose parents have been killed by madmen…," you said, more to yourself. Tim gazed at you, his eyes analytical and cold. They were questioning, so you shrugged your shoulders.
"I interviewed Richard Greyson too," you answered. He slowly nodded his head and gave you an impressed look.
"Wow, most people who write about Bruce don't go that far…," he said. You smiled and shrugged your shoulders like it was no big deal. You then asked him the simple questions like: What was Bruce like as a mentor? What was it like being under his care? All of those on the surface questions that you kind of hated. Half an hour later, you found yourself standing up and ready to leave. It was already 5pm and you had told your roommate you would be back by then. Tim followed suit and shook your hand once again. He paused and then looked back at the file room you had broken in to.
"So, what exactly were you looking for in there?" he asked curiously. You smirked and shrugged your shoulders.
"I guess I just wanted to see what kind of skeletons Mr. Wayne hides in his closets."