Cynthia sighed as she stood across from the GCPD, waiting for a victim.

Finally, a cop exited the building; late thirties, a little dumpy, greasy looking, and balding.

Perfect.

"Excuse me, sir?" Cynthia said, well aware of how her breasts bounced as she ran across the street and how her private school uniform skirt was hiked almost obscenely high.

"Um, yes, miss?"

"Hi, I work for the school paper and the editor said he'd cut me if I didn't have a really interesting story for this week's edition, and the deadline is tomorrow, and the paper is my favorite, so if there is anything interesting you could tell me, I would be sooo grateful."

Cynthia chewed on her lip and looked up at him with wide doe eyes, not breaking even as his eyes raked over her and he began to leer.

"Well, hun, I don't know, I'm not supposed to tell anyone about this…"

"Please?"

"What the hell, you're cute. You know that snake dancer that got gutted?"

"Uh huh," Cynthia said, beginning to scribble on her notepad.

"Caught her killer just now," He said, Cynthia's eyes widening, not even acting.

"Yeah?"

"It was her son."

Cynthia gasped slightly; only partially acting.

"Her son?"

"Uh huh, once we caught him, apparently he broke down or something. Started smiling and cackling like a loon; said he did it because she kept nagging him."

"That's horrible," Cynthia said.

"Ain't it? Anyway, I gotta patrol. See ya around."

"Thank you again, Sir."

As he entered his squad car, Cynthia turned the other way.

"Shit."

This presented so many problems.

What if he told?

Of course, people would write him off as crazy, but she already had one ex-boyfriend in Arkham; she couldn't afford people to know she had another.

She needed a drink.

Cynthia started off towards Lexi's bar; maybe she'd serve her, when a hand grabbed her arm.

"Waiting for your boyfriend?"

Cynthia nearly squealed as she got pulled into an alley.

"Matthew!"

He pushed her up against a wall.

"You know, when I saw you trading spit with that ginger nightmare, I just got pissed. But, now."

"Now what, asshole?"

"I don't think you'd appreciate it if I told your butler about how I saw you and a sociopath making out."

Cynthia sighed.

"Let me guess; in return for your silence, you get to fuck me."

"And date you; I like the idea of the Wayne fortune."

"No one will believe you."

"You already have one in Arkham; why wouldn't you have another?"

Cynthia realized what she had to do.

"Yeah, I have two ex-boyfriends in Arkham. That really begs the question; do I pick them because they're crazy, or are they crazy because I pick them."

"What?" Matthew said, frowning.

"Think about it, I broke up with Marco and he went off the deep end; shot up the school. Who's to say Jerome didn't off his mommy so he could stay in Gotham? Hell, maybe I told him to." Cynthia cocked her head, her voice becoming higher pitched and mocking "Would you like that Matthew? Wanna have your blood on your hands? Your little sister's?"

"You bitch."

Matthew raised his hand to hit her when…

"Hey!" A blonde woman stalked towards them "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Matthew backed away, but he remained mad.

"Stay away from her," Matthew said "She's crazy. She's goddamn poison."

"Screw off," The blonde woman said, grabbing Cynthia's shoulders and pulling her close.

Matthew stumbled off and the blonde woman put her hands on Cynthia's shoulders.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you," She said.

"Can I give you a ride somewhere?" She asked.

"Um, yeah, actually."

.

"Wayne Manor, right?"

Cynthia looked over from the passenger seat, slightly surprised as the blonde smiled.

"I've seen you around; I'm Barbara Kean."

"Nice to meet you… Were you going somewhere?"

"No, why do you ask?" Barbara asked, frowning.

"You're dressed nice," Cynthia pointed out.

Barbara swallowed hard.

"No, I'm not going anywhere."

"It seems like you've been having a bad day."

"And you're not?" Barbara pointed out, Cynthia chuckling without humor.

"Third worst day of my life, I'd say."

"What was his deal with you anyway?" Barbara asked.

"Wouldn't date him," Cynthia replied.

"Asshole," Barbara muttered, Cynthia laughing with humor this time.

.

"Can you drop me here? Alfred thinks I'm at a friend's house and he might get suspicious if he sees you," Cynthia said "Thanks for the ride."

"Wait, why were you by the precinct?" Barbara asked.

Cynthia paused, a hand on the door. She looked into the distance with a small smile.

"See ya around, Barbara."

And she shut the door.

.

A few weeks later found Cynthia sitting in her father's study, behind the desk, reading the newspaper. She heard movement and folded the paper in half, looking over it at the man around Alfred's age.

"Who're you?"

He looked up at her as if he was surprised she was there.

"Reginald Payne, most call me Reggie; I'm a friend of your butler and your brother said I could stay."

"Of course he did," Cynthia said under her breath, throwing the paper on the desk.

"Gruesome stuff for a lass like yourself," Reggie said, looking at the paper.

"I think I can handle it," Cynthia replied.

"I'd think that you wouldn't like to read about a matricide."

"I live in Gotham; if you can't stomach a murder, then you won't last long. Besides," Cynthia said, her tone filled with disdainful sarcasm "This is a success story; he's in Arkham now."

"You're an ornery thing, aren't ya?"

"Don't call me a thing," Cynthia said, worrisomely calm as she stood "You're in my house, Mr. Payne; don't test me."

"You're a rich brat; yeah, your parents are dead, and that's right brutal. But, you'll bounce back, and you'll never be in danger. You'll never have to look down a barrel of gun wondering if you and your best mates will make it."

Cynthia crossed the room so she was standing about a foot away from Reggie.

"I already have. And you know what happened? I talked. I talked and he shot himself." Cynthia took a step forward "I am the heir of a company that is worth 1.45 billion dollars and two of my ex-boyfriends are in Arkham. Don't test me."

Cynthia turned on her heel and returned to the desk, picking up the paper and resuming her reading.

"You've been excused, Mr. Payne."

.

Cynthia stood stiffly beside Alfred's hospital bed, the same thought coming to her over and over.

You should've killed him when you had the chance.

.

Cynthia splashed her face with water, trying to figure out her next move; Alfred hadn't told Gordon who'd stabbed him since he'd wanted to deal with it himself. She could go looking for him, but she had no clue where to start.

Alfred was back from the hospital and kept insisting on finding Payne, even though, as both of the Waynes pointed out, he was still healing.

Bruce had left a while ago and Cynthia had a feeling he was looking for him, but she doubted he'd find him.

She supposed the best thing she could do was wait.

Cynthia hated waiting.

She missed Jerome.

.

Bruce would return hours later, seeming a bit out of it, but Cynthia respected his privacy and stayed out of it.

.

"Jim!" Harvey called, Jim sighing and turning.

"What is it?"

Harvey gave him a look that made Jim's insides freeze.

"You're gonna wanna take a look at this."

.

Alfred opened the door and paused.

"Detective Gordon, Detective Bullock, what brings you two out here?"

Alfred took in their pained faces.

"Can you get Cynthia?"

Alfred nodded, turning and getting Cynthia from her room.

"What's wrong, Detective?"

"I'm truly sorry, Cynthia," Jim said, taking a pained breath before he spoke again, grabbing Cynthia and beginning to cuff her.

"Cynthia Wayne, you're under arrest for the murder of Reginald Payne."