II
Barbara
Barbara Gordon watched her father finish his (she could say her) speech and then step over to shake the hand of her handsome boss. She caught the quick little wink and a smile the Commissioner shot her way. Dad never forgot a favor.
She allowed herself a moment to reflect while the mayor got up to speak. It had been twenty years to the day when terrorists had piloted a 767 into each tower, reducing them to rubble and killing over six thousand people in an inferno of collapsing landmarks. Gotham had never been the same after that day. Bruce Wayne had been 12 years old, she had been five. She hadn't seen her father for three weeks after the attack.
Bruce Wayne never got to see his parents again.
Bruce had dedicated his life to Gotham City after that day. He had started Wayne Communications six years later when he was 18. At 22, he had taken over Wayne Industries, the same year he completed his MBA. Within three years, plans and funding had been secured to rebuild the towers to house the two prevailing passions of Bruce Wayne, information and industry.
Barbara herself had been hired onto Wayne Communications four years ago. Shortly after completing her PhD in Information Systems at Gotham U last year, Bruce had promoted her to Vice President of WayneNet. Her dad had always hoped the promotion would come with a candle-lit dinner and an engagement ring, but it really had been merit-based (despite what the office gossips thought). Bruce Wayne was the most dynamic, intense and productive man she had ever met. Barbara would have fallen for him in an instance, but business always came first. She was one of the few people that could actually keep up with the man. That was something to be proud of. After all, she had inherited an unrelenting work ethic from one of the best; her father.
She tuned back into the mayor's speech when he opened the mahogany case on the dais and held up a large, golden key to the audience. The Key to the City.
"…And now fellow citizens, it is time to bequeath Gotham's greatest honor onto its greatest citizen, Mr. Bruce Wayne!"
There were applause, and then...
A man was standing in the fourth row. He was tall, slim and dressed in an emerald-green tuxedo. If not for the young, blonde lady he clutched in front of him and the knife he held at her throat, he could have been a heckler. But the look of sudden fear in her eyes silenced the room into tense apprehension. She started to plead for help, but the tall man whispered something into her ear that made her go quiet, and suddenly pale.
Barbara marveled at the audacity of this idiot in a room full of cops.