FIC: Faith Wayne (6/?)
"Whoa," Faith stared at the house as their car pulled up outside of the Wayne mansion. "It ain't a house, it's a freakin' castle!"
"Yeah," Xander grimaced as he pulled into a parking spot. "And my saloon doesn't exactly look in place next to these Rollers, Mercedeses, and Lamborghinis."
"Yeah honey, we'll talk to Giles about your car allowance," Faith absently comforted as she stared at her dad's house.
The gothic mansion was huge, four storeys high at least. It was constructed out of massive grey slabs, and in each corner there stood a tower that was at least two storeys higher than the rest of the house. The perfectly trimmed lawns, the dude had to have an army of gardeners, went on for acres in each direction, ending just before the twenty foot stone wall that surrounded the castle, CCTV cameras everywhere.
Even as she stared at the looming mansion, the thick wooden doors opened to reveal Alfie stood there. Faith felt a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. Him at least she liked, old guy was kinda smooth.
"Come on then," Xander sighed as he climbed out of the car. "Let's get this over with."
Faith arched an eyebrow. "You gonna go all alpha male on Pops?"
Xander half-grinned as he joined her in hurrying up the dozen stone steps leading up to the mansion. "Not unless he makes me."
"You go tiger," Faith winked at her man before grinning at the butler. "Hey Alfie, how's its hanging?"
The old man's weathered face tugged up in a smile. "Ms. Lehane, Mr. Harris, please come in, Mr. Wayne is waiting in the drawing room."
"Cool," Faith's breath caught as she followed the butler through the tastefully decorated hallway and into a gleaming drawing room with a trio of three seater lounges arranged in a sort of semi-circle, the two men in the room rising at their entry.
"Faith," Wayne rose with a smile, "thank you for coming." Her 'pop' glanced at the youth beside him, Faith guessed that he was in his late teens. "This is Tim Drake, my ward."
"Hey," Faith glanced at the youth. He was dark-haired with intelligent blue eyes and a square, determined jaw. Guy looked to be in real good shape too, not a bodybuilder, more a lean gymnast's physique. "Pleased to meet you."
"And you," the young man's welcoming smile eased at least some of her worries about any jealousy he might have 'bout her turning up.
"My former ward, Dick Grayson, sends his apologies, but business in Bludhaven prevents him from joining us." Bruce looked towards his ward. "Tim, will you take Mr. Harris-."
"Call me Xander," Xander looked towards both men in turn, "I'm not keen on formality."
"As you wish, Tim will take you on a tour." Wayne nodded, "I'll take Faith. Alfred-."
"I have my duties to attend to sir," Alfred bobbed his head respectfully before looking towards her, "a pleasure as always Ms. Lehane."
"You too Alfie," Faith winked at the butler.
"Shall we?" Faith shook her head as she saw Xan link arms with Tim. "Lead on young man!"
"Goof," Faith chuckled as she fell in beside Bruce.
"How long have you and Xander known one another?" Bruce asked as they started up the entrance hall's two-pronged, sweeping staircase.
"Huh," Faith smiled slightly at the bittersweet memories, "nine years. I didn't really notice him at first though."
"What changed?"
Faith arched her eyebrow at the third degree, but decided to endure it as long as the questioning didn't get too personal. "I realised when all the flash was gone, Xan was still there, steady, loyal, loving. When I grew up I realised those sort of qualities were more valuable than what I'd been goin' for before."
"That doesn't sound a lot like love," her father commented.
"Well it is, he makes me feel worth somethin', makes me laugh, feel loved, I love him." Plus he got her wicked horny, but she wasn't about to admit that to Pops. "And just in case you were thinkin' 'bout it," Faith glared warningly at her father. "Don't be employin' P.I.s to investigate Xan, I know everythin' I need to 'bout my guy."
Faith was surprised when Wayne smiled rather than recoiled at her scowl. "I'll bear that in mind."
The two of them continued on, Faith evading or flat out-lying to any question that somehow related to her Slaying. The house was just 'bout what she expected, finery, money, and privilege pouring out of every room.
The one exception was the ground floor gym. Where she might have expected mirrored-walls and the latest in fancy but ineffective fitness equipment, instead she got a room with only the fundamentals. A rack of increasingly heavy dumbbells, a squat rack, a leg press, an incline bench, a rowing machine, a crunch bar, a bench, a chin up bar, a set of gymnastic rings, a vaulting horse, and parallel bars. "This is kinda hardcore," Faith announced as she looked around the drab room, a stark contrast to the bright colours and tasteful decoration throughout the rest of the house.
"When one's in the public eye, one likes to keep in shape." For a second the normally unflappable Bruce looked flustered. "Vanity you know." The billionaire glanced at his Rolex. "Cook will have luncheon ready, and then Alfred will take you into town to get a dress for the charity gala."
"Oh happy day."
"You've gotta be trippin'," Faith stared with horror at the rows and rows of flamboyant ball and evening gowns in the brightly lit shop.
"Ms. Lehane," Alfred said beside her. "The Fancy is one of Gotham's most exclusive boutiques. Mr. Wayne has kept an account here for his paramours for years."
"Para-, what?" Faith looked at the butler, brow furrowing in confusion.
"His lady friends," Alfred clarified.
"Gotcha," Faith looked around. So the women here probably thought-. Faith shook her head and chuckled. That was weird even for her. And no way was she wearing any of the sequined gowns, way too fancy for her. "Huh," she spied a plain, halter-style, knee-length black dress. Simple cut to it, but very well made. "I'll take that." She pointed at the dress.
"Ms. Lehane, Mr. Wayne's budget can stretch to a far more extravagant dress," Alfred protested.
"It's this dress or I go in a leather mini and a crop top," Faith retorted.
Alfred sighed. "No wonder your young man excused himself out of this trip."
Faith's nose wrinkled. "What's that supposed to-."
"Little black dress it is then," the butler hurriedly interrupted.
Metropolis, The Daily Planet
"Lane! Get in here now!"
Lois sighed at her boss' bellicose bellow. "Coming Perry," she muttered as she rose, chugged down the last of the morning's coffee, and hurried into the office.
Perry glared at her as she entered the office, the rotund man's sleeves rolled up to reveal his thick forearms, and the trademark unlit cigar dangling from the left side of his mouth. "Sit down!" Perry roared. "I thought you had contacts with Wayne?" Perry flung a paper across the desk at her. "Great Caesar's Ghost! Scooped by The Gotham Globe of all rags!"
Lane's jaw dropped as she looked down at the paper that had landed in her lap. "Bruce Wayne's secret daughter?" she dazedly read the headline before looking up. "How is this possible?"
"I assume your high school biology classes filled that in for you, Lane," White humourlessly commented. "I don't know who she is, where she is, only that she's to be unveiled at this charity gala in a few days' time." White paused. "But I do know something!"
"Oh yes?" Lois queried.
"You're gonna get the first interview with the mystery woman," Perry replied.
Intergang, Metropolis.
"Have you seen the headlines! This is a real opportunity!"
Bruno Mannheim glowered down at his subordinate. "How so?" he growled, his voice rumbling out of his thick chest like a falling avalanche.
His subordinate pointed at the headline again, the boardroom hushed as his subordinates listened to the two of them talk. "We all know how much money Wayne has, we snatch the girl, send him a few photos, and tell him ten mil or we send his girl back to him piece by piece."
"No," Bruno shook his head. It was tempting but…. "It's too high-profile, we work from the shadows – extortion, prostitution, gambling, drug-dealing, loan sharks. A caper like this would shine too much light onto criminal operations throughout the country, stifling our profit-making opportunities on a national scale. The money we'd lose far exceeds what we'd make."
His subordinate leaned towards him, finger jabbing at the paper's headline. "But the millions we could make! It's easy money!"
The man barely managed to get off a shocked gurgle before Bruno had him by his hair, pulling his head down into the table before him, the man's face collapsing inwards as blood covered the desk, bones shattering under the repeated assault. When he was finally satisfied the man was dead, he looked towards his dazed looking subordinates. "As I was saying, no. Has anyone else got any questions?"
Location Unknown
Ra's al Ghul stared stonily at the newspaper before him, only his iron discipline and self-control enabling him to keep his rage leashed. Wayne had a daughter, a child? That put this bitch in the way of his plans for Talia and Wayne.
Which was fatally unfortunate for her.
Ra'al Ghul bit his bottom lip as he considered his options. His League was filled with hordes who could do the job, but sending one of his own people was out of the question, the Bat's detective skills ensured he'd track the murder back to him.
He could simply hire a few low level thugs to fake a street robbery and a murder, but when you hired untalented thugs, there was always a greater chance that things would go wrong, and forewarn the Bat. Ghul shook his head. No, he had to work through cut-outs and hire an independent, someone who had no idea who was picking up the tab.
Merlyn was a possibility, the man's skills with a bow had few betters. However, he was also a former League member, using him was too much of a link.
Deathstroke was a possibility, he doubted there was a more uniquely skilled independent in the world. However, his intelligence made him very dangerous, he could easily track the contract back to him. Best to leave such a wild card alone.
Black Spider? Talented but erratic, too emotional.
Deadshot? He was undoubtedly talented, but Lawton's death-wish made him wary.
Shado? Another rare talent, but her links to the Yakuza made using her problematic.
"Constantine Drakon," Ghul's lips tugged up into a smile. The Greek assassin was hugely talented and coldly methodical, dogged in the pursuit of his target until they were dead. He was a superb candidate for the League, except he had no interest in their goals, or in anything but money and the kill. "Just perfect."
Lights exploded before Faith's eyes as she climbed out of Wayne's limo, her apparent father and Xander beside her, the flash of a thousand cameras almost blinding her. Ignoring the shouts from media and onlookers held back by police and security, she made her way down the red carpet leading to the ballroom.
The breath gusted from her as she looked around the pillar-rowed ballroom, the columns stretching up to its high, creamy-white ceiling while at the vast chamber's far end, a string quartet played some classical music or other. Conscious of all the eyes from the tables from both far sides of the columns looking towards her, she looked towards her tuxedoed 'father', she hadn't quite got used to his parentage, and forced a smile. "Where's our table?"
Bruce looked towards an approaching waiter. "The Wayne party."
"Yes, sir!" the waiter nodded. "If you'll please follow me."
The next hour passed in a quiet hell for Faith, the crappy music and the nouvelle cuisine food that couldn't fill up a mouse, she was definitely stopping off at KFC or McDonalds on the way home, combining to irritate the hell out of her. Finally though, the last course had been served.
"Faith, would you care to join me for a dance?"
Faith glanced at her pop before slowly nodding. "Yeah sure." Her and Xan had gone undercover in the European aristocracy to track down a rogue mage and as such they'd had to learn the basics of ballroom dancing – the waltz, the quickstep, the tango, and the mambo. Course it wasn't 'xacly her kind of dancin', but it wasn't like Slayers had two left feet.
"Well Brucie," Faith glanced over her shoulder as she rose to see a slender, rakish-lookin' man 'bout her dad's age approaching them, "where have you been hiding this divine creature?"
"Behind me." Faith snorted inwardly when Xander turned his head and looked at the man.
The fop paled at Harris' one-eyed stare. "Well as always a pleasure, Brucie," the man trilled before retreating.
"You have the nicest friends, pops," Faith drawled.
"J. Devlin Davenport is no friend of mine," her father growled before looking at her. "Now that dance?"
"Sure, pops."
"I've got the next," Xander put in.
She'd just finished her third dance with Xan, her boy-toy having hurried off to get her some punch, when she was approached by a bald, bullet-headed man around her pops' age. "Ms. Wayne, it's a pleasure to meet you."
Faith's eyes widened as she recognised the man from the papers as one of the few with the wealth and notoriety to match her father's. "Mr. Luthor?" she was so shocked, she forgot her customary correction of her name.
The billionaire genius smiled at her like a shark marking his prey. "It's always a pleasure to be recognised by a beautiful young woman."
"Now Luthor, you wouldn't be hogging the celebrity of the hour would you," suddenly a blond-haired, bearded man with green eyes and a lithe, athletic frame around her dad's age was by the billionaire's side, a tall, curvy blonde maybe ten years his junior beside him. "That'd be most uncharacteristically selfish of you!"
Luthor's lip curled up, a hard tint coming to his eyes. "Queen," the solitary word grated from the businessman's lips, he turned towards her, nodded and stalked away without uttering another word.
"He's always been such a warm and friendly chap," the man flashed her a smile and presented his hand. "Oliver Queen of Star City, this is my girl-friend Dinah Lance."
"Pleased to meet you, you friends of Bruce, huh, dad?" she queried.
"Friends, allies, business rivals," Queen glanced towards Luthor's departing back. "Him on the other hand, he's a very dangerous man."
"Practically defines the word unscrupulous," added Dianah.
"Yeah," Faith nodded. "I kinda got that read off him."
"Your drink Faith," Xander appeared at her shoulder.
"Thanks hon," Faith took the glass of punch, hiding a grimace. As a rule she liked somethin' much stronger, but she didn't think her knockin' back shots of JD would go down well in this rarefied company. "This is Oliver Queen and Dinah Lance."
"Oliver Queen of Queen Industries?" Xander queried.
"The same." There was a flash of a smile.
"Whoa," Xander whispered, his eyes fixed on the statuesque brunette dressed in a shimmering, full-length red evening gown, her glossy dark mane resting on her bare shoulders. "Is that who I think it is?"
"Diana Prince," Bruce interrupted her boy-friend's drooling before she was forced to shove her foot all the way up her ass, "Themyscira's ambassador."
"I was gonna say Wonder Woman but okay," Xander gulped. "She's actually here?"
Faith rolled her eyes at Xander's continued drooling. "Oh yes," Bruce continued. "Diana and I are old," the woman in question turned and waved discreetly towards them before slinking across the busy dancefloor to them, "friends." Everyone rose at the woman's approach. "Hello Diana, are you enjoying the gala?"
The towering brunette wrinkled her nose. "Oh you know me, Bruce, I appreciate the idea behind these events but hate the glad-handing. But I had to come and meet your daughter!" Faith blinked when Wonder Woman turned her gaze on her, 'kay that was the first time since puberty when she'd found herself feelin' dowdy. "I notice none of the reports mentioned just how beautiful she was!" The older woman stuck out her hand. "Diana, pleased to meet you."
"My name is Faith," the words stumbled out as she shook the other woman's hand, "I'm a big fan."
"Thank you, it's always good to be appreciated." Diana flashed her a smile before looking towards her newly-acquired father. "Bruce, can I have a word in private."
"Of course," Bruce nodded towards her and Xander in turn, "I'll just be a moment."
"I'm a big fan," Xander sniggered across the table from her as the others stalked away.
Faith gave Harris her death-glare. "You better keep it in your pants tonight Harris, otherwise I might just rip it off."
The moment they were clear of where anyone could hear them, Diana spoke. "Did you know your daughter is in our exclusive club?"
Bruce smiled wryly at his friend's oblique reference. "I met her while doing a nocturnal patrol."
"Oh," Diana raised an inquiring eyebrow. "And does she know about your hobbies?"
"No," Bruce shook his head. "And I intend to keep that part of my life separate."
"Good luck with that," Diana snorted.