He was absolutely captivated by her, and he would never deny it.
He was extremely curious about Rebecca Brown's daughter, who was born on June 13th, on a Friday no less.
She always knew how to bring a smile to his face.
He had kept an eye on Rebecca ever since they had parted ways, ensuring that her bank account was always full, and even fattening up her parents' account.
They had advised her to terminate the pregnancy, and as much as he hated to admit it, he supposed they were right.
The child destroyed her, but he knew that Rebecca wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
Her intention was to marry J oe Ker and have a hundred of his babies.
The child, Josephine, was mundane and dull, with none of Rebecca's charm.
She was an exceptional ballerina, but of course, she was a dancer.
Of course she could dance, she was his child.
His child with Rebecca's sweet and exquisite face.
Rebecca's face haunted his dreams sometimes, often covered in bruises and blood.
Josie dashed past another kid when they grabbed her and shouted her name; it was a boy.
He wore a green hoodie and blue jeans, and his blue eyes were locked on her brown-gray.
'Yes?' She vaguely recognized him.
'Are you Josie Kerr?'
'Who are you?'
'Colin.'
'Oh.'
'Where have you been?'
'Uh...'
'Everyone has been looking for you.'
'Why?'
'Children are being taken.'
So he was the one she heard it from.
'I've been hiding from Angelina and her friends.'
'Oh. You should come downstairs.'
'Why?'
'There's a famous guy down there-'
'Is he a movie star?''
'No.'
'Singer?'
'No.'
'Then how is famous?'
'He's like... Kim Kardashian famous.'
'Oh. Well, I have to go to the little girls' room; I'll be right down.'
'I'll wait for you if you like.'
'No, you go ahead.'
Colin walked away from her, and Josie went into the restroom. A knock on the door made Josie jump, but when she asked who it was, Gabby's voice eased her.
'Are you ready?'
Colin walked away from her, and Josie went into the restroom. A knock on the door made Josie jump, but when she asked who it was, Gabby's voice eased her.
'I got you.'
Several children swarmed the town car, clamoring for his father, the Great Bruce Wayne. People were always eager to see him whenever he was out in public; he was a socialite.
The people of Gotham thought Bruce Wayne was a fairy tale prince, particularly the females.
He was the portrait of 'tall, dark, and handsome,' Gotham's Golden Bachelor.
Black hair was short and wavy, always conveniently in his face when he needed to charm a woman.
His sky-blue eyes could make any woman and the occasional man's heart flutter.
And his light olive skin and a flash of his perfect, straight white teeth made women faint.
The dark Knight, indeed.
He wore a black three-piece suit and dress shoes, black and shiny Oxford shoes.
Apparently, that meant something.
They couldn't even converse without some harlot flouncing up with desire in her eyes.
They were just bodies to him, another notch on his bedpost. And it wasn't just civilians; allies and even enemies gave Bruce Wayne bedroom eyes.
The man had a different woman every night, sometimes two or more; his mother mentioned that he had vices, but really...
Even now, he was eyeing each attractive woman for future consideration.
Damien hoped it wasn't like that when he developed vices.
He looked through the crowd, but none of them belonged to her.
Or Colin.
These insolent little children were all over, blocking his way. Damien pushed past the children to get to Colin, who was rushed to him.
'Damien,' he called breathlessly, 'she-'
'Ah, you must be Colin.' Bruce's olive oil voice sang.
Colin gawked, his voice caught in his throat, and he succumbed to his charisma.
Great.
'I'm Bruce Wayne.'
Colin's face matched his hair, and he inched behind Damien; the brunet threw both an irritated look. He elbowed the ginger and motioned to The Prince.
'This is Colin, and you can turn off the charm, Bruce.'
'Damien-'
He gave Damien a look of vexation and perplexity as someone ruffled his hair. 'Excuse me, handsome.
A beautiful young woman, dark-haired, edged past him; she had tan skin, dark eyes, and prominent cheekbones, possibly of Latina or Irish descent, moderately tall, and slim.
She wore a dark denim jacket, a red camisole, dark jeans, and black sneakers.
He fixed his hair as someone with a petite body squeezed past him.
'Watch it.' He yelped.
'Sorry.'
He peeked at the girl with horrendous hair and the plaid shirt as she trotted after the woman; something flashed.
The awful-haired girl glanced over her shoulders; her narrow face did look remorseful.
Her thin nose looked nonexistent next to her too-full cupid's bow lips and large, round gray-brown eyes that surveyed him quickly, eventually turning to his father.
Damien mentally groaned as the creamy-skinned girl's cheeks turned scarlet.
I think I know her; he felt as little alarms began to buzz in his head.
The girl tried to get Bruce to look her way, but the woman yanked her away.
She said the girl's name, but Bruce, standing against him, shivered, making him do the same. Then he began to look around erratically and seemed panic-stricken, and another flash.
'What's wrong?'
'Where's the little girl?'
The warnings in Damien's head grew a bit louder.
'Oh!' Colin ultimately found his voice. 'She's upstairs!'
The alarms got louder, and Damien grew indignant; he turned to the dark-haired pair and found them getting into a white four-door car.
It was her, but for some reason, the thought didn't seem to register with him.
'There.' He replied absently, though the alarms made it damn near impossible to hear his own voice. 'She's there.'
'What?!'
The car sped away as everything came rushing to Damian all at once.
The girl was there and slipped through his fingers!
"I didn't expect you to be in the slums." Her aroma caught up with him before her voice.
Both Poison Ivy and The Joker stood atop St. Aden's orphanage.
"I could say the same to you." He retorted. "So far from your babies."
He couldn't see her face, but he knew she was smirking; he didn't like it.
"And speaking of babies," she chirped, "are you checking up on your little princess?"
"Shut up, Ivy." He growled.
"Seriously though, why are you here?"
"Wanted to see the orphanage."
He snapped a couple of photos of Gabrielle with a dark-haired child. When he zoomed in, he realized it was just the kid in a ratty wig. Those yahoos were too busy jacking off Wayne to notice.
'You wanted to see the orphanage?' Ivy challenged.
"She was bleeding last time I saw her... Thought I might learn how it happened."
"She claims that Robin did it, but when I found her, Zsasz had a knife at her throat."
Joker snapped more photos of Josie, then turned his attention to Bruce Wayne, the self-centered prick.
'I don't doubt that.'
"Wait..."
"Of course, he would know..."
"He knows?!"
"Probably..."
"You think he set his little Robin on her?" Her voice sounded closer and more concerned.
"Wouldn't go that far..." He stopped snapping. 'I'm pretty the two of us and the bat are the only ones who know.'
'Wait, are you saying that Batman knows about Josephine?!"
"Yes, he's aware of her existence..." he turned to her. "I'm sure of it."
"How does he know?"
"How does he know anything?"
"What are you going to do?"
"Wait..."