Chapter One

Bruce

"Pay attention to where you're stepping." His father's deep voice echoed between the stone buildings.

Bruce watched the theater door that closed behind them. His focus shifted to the alleyway they entered. A wince built up inside of him as the stench of urine, and old trash hit his nose. Tucking his nose into his coat, his mother pulled him along.

A question sat on the tip of his tongue. Why were they leaving through a side door? Why didn't they leave through of the main entrance? But before he could ask, the scene played out the way it did thousands of times. And no matter how much he wanted to change what was about to happen, he couldn't. The sounds, smells, and the terror he felt struck him as hard as it did the day it happened.

Sitting up right, in bed, Bruce gasped for air.

"Good morning, Mr. Wayne." Alfred's no nonsense, British accent greeted him with the same tone he used every day.

Late morning light filtered into the room as Alfred pulled open the curtains. "Morning, Alfred." Bruce rubbed his eyes as he attempted to shake the memory of the worse day of his life from the front of his mind. "What's on the agenda for today?"

Once he finished opening the last curtain, Alfred gave him a quick glance. He then turned to make his way over to the small table located in front of the fireplace. "You have a meeting with Mr. Fox at ten thirty. Followed by attending a business lunch." He turned over a coffee cup. As he prepared Bruce's coffee, he continued. "You have a virtual meeting with Master Damien's science teacher, Mr. Hughes at two o'clock. Lastly, tonight is Gotham General Hospital's Annual Ball."

Bruce eyed the coffee as his tastebuds started to water. The weariness of not being able to sleep for more than an hour or two in a row was starting to eat away at his nerves. "Is there way I could skip the ball?" A grown built up in his chest but stayed in place. The annul ball consisted of many doctors who knew his father. He could even admit that some of them knew his father better than he did. Each year, they recalled the same stories of the time that Doctor Thomas Wayne did this or that. At first these stories gave Bruce a faint feeling of connection to the man he would never know. But, over the past decade the stories shifted focus. They no longer focused on his father's positive attributes. Instead, they were out to convince him to donate to their various research projects. Reminding him that his father would have supported them if he were still alive.

Alfred moved from preparing his coffee to laying his clothes out for the day. "Dr. Polkowski, one of your father's closet colleges is being honored. I believe they shared a dorm room while at university."

The image of this man pushed his dreams further into the back of his mind. He placed his feet into his slippers as he stood. Familiar ripples of pain shot from his knees to his hips, and then to his lower back. Ignoring his aches and pains, he made his way over to the table breakfast table. More to himself than Alfred he commented, "I guess there is no getting out of it then." Sitting, he asked, "who am I taking with me?"

"No one, sir." Alfred raised a brow. "As you may recall, your choices were not stellar. Your first choice was Ms. Vanessa Stanford. She is a twenty-two-year-old recent college student, and daughter of a famous actor."

"I remember now." He had his secretary look into his choices. She gave him the barebones breakdown of his choices. "Ms. Stanford wants to elevate her social status. She wants to use me to work her way into Gotham's social hierarchy." The image of the stereotypical Hollywood nepotism – baby, came to his mind. Once naturally pretty, she recently had several procedures done that changed that. The change to her appearance made her less appealing. It also revealed that this woman had low self-esteem but high ambitions.

"There was also twenty – seven-year-old Ms. Claudia Trafford. Her father formally served on Wayne Enterprises Board of Directors." Alfred straightens his spine. He then made his way back over to his serving tray to start preparing Bruce's morning meal.

Bruce sipped his coffee as he allowed the scent to push the cobwebs away from his exhausted mind. Ms. Claudia Trafford, much to her father's dismay, was a member of the LGBQ+ community. Her sudden interest in him was extremely suspicious. And when his secretary looked into it further proved to be an attempt to make her father happy. By dating him, Bruce learned that she would gain access to her trust fund. Meanwhile, she was to try to find a way to get her father back onto the board of his company.

"The third option was nineteen-year-old, Ms. Sylivia Croft. Miss. Gotham City, stated her interest in dating you in multiple interviews."

Bruce smirked, "So, I'm going to go to the ball, solo." As physically rewarding it would be to take the beauty queen, he decided to pass. He was twice her age and would prefer a model that was not currently front-page news.

"It will be easier to slip away, this way, Sir." Alfred suggested.

Placing his cup of coffee down, Bruce smirked, "I couldn't agree more."

Bre-El

"The surgery went well." Bre-El lifted a small plastic bag, inside it lay a warped figurine. "I removed this from your son's digestive track."

"It wasn't his appendix?" The boy's father scratched his balding scalp.

"No, sir, your son's appendix is fine." Bre-El steeled her nerves for the barrage of questions that she knew was to follow. By this point in her career, she had determined that dealing with parents was her least favorite part of the day. Well, almost her least favorite part of the day. There were worst situations that developed in Gotham General Hospital's pediatric wing.

For the next half hour, Bre-El spoke with the boy's parents. She was finally saved by one of the nurses paging her. After thanking the nurse who paged her, Bre-El returned to making her rounds.

"Dr. Royal, what are you still doing here?" Her skeleton-like supervisor rounded the corner while carrying a clipboard in hand. "Your shift ended fifteen minutes ago." He checked his watch before he narrowed his dull brown eyes. "You're not trying to push for overtime, are you?"

Bre-El made a note on one of her patient's charts. "I'm on my way out. Do you need me to do anything for you before I leave?"

"Remember to be on time tonight." He shifted his attention to the nurses who were watching them. "Shouldn't you be making your rounds?" Without giving her another look, the supervisor picked a new target to harass. Bre-El wanted to shake her head but held back. As her focus slipped her vision to shift. For a brief few seconds, she saw through her supervisor's skin, through his muscles, then to his skeleton. He almost looked the same.

"Ready to go?" Her brother's musical sounding voice caused her to shift her attention. Thom-El, her twin, and closest living family member stood out wherever he went. His golden blonde hair stood up in spots as if he had recently ran his fingers through it. His playful sky-blue eyes almost dared her to say no.

"Yes, Brother." She smirked, "Are you ready to go?" Her finger poked his chest.

"No," he gave her a weak smile, "I rather work a double shift than go to that ball, tonight."

They left the pediatric wing as they made their way to the elevator. "I thought you were looking forward to the ball." She started as she ran her fingers along the wall as they walked.

"It's a ball, only in name and appearance. There are so many tables, that there will be nowhere to dance, nor did they hire anyone to play music." A tragedy to be sure. The one thing Thom-El enjoyed more than saving lives, it was music.

"So, we're dressing up and bull shitting with people we barely know?"

Thom-El hid his disappointment as he poked the down button on the elevator. "Basically." As the door opened, they entered. Luckly, they were alone for at least a minute or so.

"Sorry, Gotham has been such a bust. I had a good feeling about this city." Bre fixed her bun so that the strawberry blond part of her hair stayed visible. Her sixth sense still made her feel like they were where they needed to be. But their leave replacement assignments were almost over. They were looking at unemployment within the next couple of weeks. Which meant that they needed to wrap up everything that they aimed to do while living in this city.

"It's been fine. A little less interesting than I thought it would be. But that might be due to most of this city's notorious criminals currently being behind bars." He gave her a side look, and with a lowered voice asked, "have you even made contact with you know who?"

"I've kept my distance." A weak smile crossed her lips. Thoughts of her nightly patrol across the city yielded not a whole lot for her to do. People expected Batman to swoop down and stop all the criminals. From her perches, Bre-El often saw people scanning the rooftops for him.

"It's for the best." He squeezed her shoulder before dropping his hand.

"Wait," her eyes widened, "you don't think that I suggested that we take these jobs so that I could meet you know who!"

A pensive look crossed his face, "The thought has crossed my mind."

"Unbelievable!" She turned to face her brother, "we've been here for a year, and now you bring this up?" The elevator door opened, a family carrying gift bags entered. "You know what," She whispered to him in a low voice, "you can pick the next city we move to, okay?"

A broad smile crossed his lips. "Nah, I like it here." He poked her arm like a preadolescent boy. "You like it here too."

Bruce

Unpredictability worked best for him, especially when it came to the time he spent at Wayne Tower. Unfortunately, sometimes his unpredictability came with unexpected consequences. For example, today was one of those days. Bruce waited for his business lunch to start for about a half hour. Eventually, the waiter approached him with a message from the potential investor. Not having much of an appetite, Bruce paid for his drinks before leaving. Unfortunately, when he called Alfred to pick him up, he only got his voice mail.

That was unlike the aging butler. But Bruce understood that Alfred managed his time well. And was likely doing something that needed to get done.

The walk back to Wayne Tower gave Bruce the opportunity to see the city during the day. Bruce adjusted his fedora to hide his eyes. His mind kept busy as he worked on Commissioner Gordan's latest puzzle. The DEO approached Gordan of a potential alien criminal hiding somewhere in the city. According to the file Gordan gave him, this alien produced a specific type of radiation.

Entering the lobby of Wayne Tower, Bruce took off his hat, and then turned in the direction of his elevator.

"Mr. Wayne!" One of the newer board members spotted him, and then jogged over to catch up with him.

"Mr. Peterman, how…"

"I'm glad you changed your mind!" The much shorter man gasped for breath. It was as if his short trek across the lobby caused his lungs a great amount of stress. "We need to make sure that when Chapman's stocks go up for sale next week, that we're the ones to buy them."

Stopping short, Bruce had no idea what he was talking about. "How do you plan on doing that? We are not legally able to buy stock until it has been on the market for twenty-four hours."

Sweat poured down the sides of the shorter man's face as he glanced around the lobby. "I already told you what we should do." He growled, "hiring a proxy to buy the stocks for us is a loophole that they won't see coming."

"Why don't you ask Chapman to sell you his stocks?"

"Really? Weren't you paying attention when we spoke this morning? I already approached him, and he laughed at me." The small man's face started to turn red.

Bruce pinched his nose, this man needed glasses. "You are mixing me up with…"

"I am not mixing you up with anyone." He poked Bruce in his chest. "Take my advice or not. It's not like it's my legacy on the line. This sale will shift the balance of power among the shareholders. Mark my words, during the next Shareholders Meeting, they'll vote to cut employees. I'm only trying to save six thousand jobs. Will you be able to sleep at night knowing that there are six thousand people without work because of you?"

Bruce slowly shook his head. There was something else going on here that he was not aware of that he needed to figure out. "I'll think about what you said. Next time, meet with me in the afternoon. I'm not at my best first thing in the morning."

Peterman's face returned to its normal shade, he fixed his tie and straightened his shoulders. Laughing he said, "of course, you have all those women you're juggling." He smirked, "I'd be a few brain cells short if I had to keep more than just my wife satisfied." With a quick smack to Bruce's back, he headed to one of the general employee elevators.

As he watched the other man leave, the hairs on the back of Bruce's neck stood up. He wore a mask of ease while feeling quite the opposite. Turning on his heel, he headed toward his personal elevator. Bruce made a mental note of who was lingering in the lobby.