Welcome to Detective Comics Adapted For Fanfiction (DCAFF, pronounced like the coffee)—a fan-driven, collaborative reboot of the DC Universe that's been a long time coming. It's a massive undertaking—more than any author could accomplish alone—so we have six: Wolf, Ragnarok, Manke, Pincoat, Stella & Orion. We all have different styles, preferences, and philosophies, with the hope that a diverse creative team will result in a fuller world.

While much will feel familiar, expect some changes—even drastic ones—as we work to honor the core of these characters. We invite you to join us on this journey, because we're starting fresh. Where did superpowers come from? How did hero and villain culture begin? How do ordinary people cope? And what happens when the world learns aliens are real?

Batman: Faith—by Orion—is one of three series launching today, each set at different points in the DCAFF timeline. Find the other two—from Ragnarok and Manke—in our profile or through the Info tab on SpaceBattles.

Vicki Vale hated Gotham. It was easy to admit that. The air was thick with smog and humidity. The city itself was dirty, and falling apart in every possible manner. Soon enough, she lost count of every crack in the concrete, or every gunshot that rang out. Each time she stepped outside of her apartment, she had to be looking over her shoulders.

Vicki was sure that the people she had spoken to were exaggerating. They had to be. There was no way that a city could be as horrible as people had been saying. Vicki wasn't an optimist, by any means. But even she had her limits.

Then she lived her first week here. In that time period, Vicki found herself hearing of at least five different shootings, three murders, and over a dozen robberies. And that didn't even count the damn 'crime families' she had been hearing rumors about, or the two honest-to-God bodies that Vicki had found on one of her walks home.

If there was a hell, it had to be Gotham City.

The worst part about all of this was that Vicki couldn't even get anything done! She was stuck in some dead end job at what should have been a good paper, a job that took forever to get started. It was bad enough that she didn't even know the full details. It wasn't worth… anything. But it put food on her table, and kept her living, which was better than nothing. At least it would have, if the damn subway cars weren't taking forever.

Eventually, something seemed to have mercy on her, and Vicki found herself staring up at a large, damn near imposing building… if she had been anyone else. The words 'Gotham Gazette' found themselves glaring back down at her. Vicki sighed, shutting her eyes for a moment and let out the breath she had been holding.

She hadn't expected the Gazette. Cesspit that Gotham was, at least the newspapers were credible sometimes.

"Time to start at the bottom. Here goes nothing." She muttered to herself. Taking a moment to fix herself up, Vicki marched into the building, trying to at least put on some sense of purpose as she continued to walk forward.

A woman sat at the front desk, bored out of her mind as she tapped away at the computer in front of her, speaking to someone on the phone. A receptionist. There was a small mercy that Vicki didn't have to start there. Walking forward, she spotted a small plastic pumpkin, still full of candy. Idly snatching one of the chocolates on top, Vicki cleared her throat, trying to catch the other woman's attention.

"One minute Greg. I'll get back to you." She moved the phone away, looking up at Vicki.

"Excuse me? I'm looking for Morton Monro-"

"Name?" The receptionist blandly cut Vicki off, causing her to blink in surprise.

"Vicki. Vicki Vale."

That awkward silence while the receptionist was working was thick enough to shove a knife through. Vicki sighed, almost tempted to pull out her phone to kill some time, but thankfully it didn't turn into that.

"Third floor. First door on the left."

Vicki muttered a sheepish thanks as she hurried towards the elevator, already pressing the button for the third floor. A quick glance at her watch showed that she wasn't late, but that didn't mean that there were already signs that something was off.

This could have just been the natural sense of pessimism that came with her work. Or it could have just been the restlessness that was finally wearing away. Maybe she could get some actual work done!

Making her way out of the elevator once it hit the proper floor, Vicki's hurried walk slowed to a crawl as she looked towards the first words that caught her eyes.

'Picture News Magazine'

'Morton Monroe: Executive Editor'

This wasn't what she had been promised. That wasn't the deal at all! Vicki was doing her best to school her features, hoping that this had to be a mistake. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward, knocking on the door. It didn't take long for a hurried voice to call out.

"Uh…shoot. Come in!"

Vicki didn't hesitate to march in, already prepared to make her case. The man before her wasn't… admittedly much. Messy, dirty blonde hair. A cheap black suit and a yellow tie. He had a pair of gray eyeglasses, which he was adjusting. Vicki didn't let him take a second to recover.

"Mister Monroe, I think there's been a huge misunderstanding about something. I was hoping to discuss-"

The man in front of her cleared his throat, fixing up his tie as he did so.

"Sorry, Vicki Vale, right?"

"Yes sir, I don't mean to barge in, but I was hoping to talk about-"

"Your work here. Right, I guess I'll be the first to say it. Welcome to Picture News Magazine." Monroe said, forcing a bit of enthusiasm into his voice as he held out his arms. Vicki could feel one eye twitching, as she did her best to try and keep both her blood pressure from skyrocketing, worse than it already was.

"I was under the impression I was going to be working at the Gotham Gazette." She told him, doing her best to not let the, admittedly, slightly forced smile leave her face.

"You are. Heck, Picture News Magazine's a subsidiary of the Gazette." Monroe told her, letting out a playful laugh. Seeing her expression not changing at all, he had a confused look on him. "Look, Miss Vale-

"Vicki, please."

Monroe didn't even blink at the introduction, continuing on.

"Right, Vicki. I don't seem to understand the confusion here. You were offered a job. I'd assumed you're coming in to work. We don't have many journalists lining up in our neck of the woods. And after that whole fiasco in Metropolis…"

Even as he trailed off, Vicki tried to stop the wince from coming. Damn damn damn. The one thing she'd been dreading. Sure, she had blown things, but Vicki hadn't thought it was going to be that… bad. The excuse sounded weak, even in her head. But she wouldn't worry about that right now. Monroe was still talking, looking almost sheepish.

"Vicki, I gotta be honest, I'm surprised you even wanted a job in journalism after everything was said and done. You burned enough bridges that you made Rome look like a candlelit dinner for two."

She couldn't hide the wince this time. Metropolis. It all came back to Metropolis. A part of her wanted to just forget about it, but that clearly wasn't going to change things. She'd have to start at rock bottom. If someone could even call it that, anyway. Taking a deep breath to cool her thoughts, Vicki shook her head.

"There's no confusion. I got offered up a job, and I said I'd take it. So I'll be happy to. Like you said, there's not many people looking to join up, so I might as well make the best of it." Vicki told him, putting on a smile. It was as fake as the clothes on Monroe's back, but it was at least an attempt.

"Great! Now, it's a real shame you weren't here last you. Would've made this a bit easier to get through. Look, I'm not gonna beat around the bush here, right?" Monroe said, offering up a shrug. "Our magazine has one focus, and one focus only."

Vicki was almost interested. Almost being the keyword. And that interest dropped upon seeing a picture placed on Monroe's desk.

"We don't have many celebrities here, but this one? This one takes the cake. Meet Gotham's Prodigal Son. Bruce Wayne. Take a look."

She found herself staring at what could only be considered an imbecile. Black hair, scruffy and unkempt. Two beautiful women were with him, one on each arm. It was almost like he didn't have a care in the world. He was dressed well enough, and was surrounded by people with cameras. She couldn't help the statement that came out of her mouth.

"Bruce Wayne? Isn't he just some rich guy? What's his deal?"

"Right. You're from Metropolis. You wouldn't know the full story." Barely phased by her question, Monroe tapped the picture idly. "This guy's parents got killed. Mugging gone wrong. It happens here in Gotham, but not to the rich. Never them. Leaves this one all by himself, the whole Wayne Empire at his fingertips. And then he up and vanishes. People thought he was dead. And here he is, ten years later, like nothing happened. Just taking the company his family built up by storm, and looking good while doing it." He offered up a grin, and Vicki was dreading what came next.

"So, what's the plan here?"

"The plan? You're gonna shadow him. Dig up every little piece of info you can. The people wanna know about Bruce Wayne, but no one wants to actually try. That's where you come in. That's your assignment. Just keep up with him, try and track down where he might end up. Heck, if you can dig up something good, even better. Doesn't matter what it is, just as long as it's something."

Vicki simply stared. Her stomach was doing constant flips, and she struggled to hold back the bile forming for a moment. This? This was going to be the sum of her work?! Chasing around a rich boy cruising through life, going to board meetings and eating at restaurants so expensive that her wallet would die just looking at them?!

Yes, it was a tragedy that his parents were killed. Anyone could agree on that. Yes, it seemed heartless to not really put much stock in it. Really, what else could she feel? There had to be some other assignment, anything else that she could have worked on!

But this was the real world. Things weren't going to just magically work out. Vicki had started as an intern before. She could work her way up again. Right now, she had to do the smart thing. Keep her mouth shut and follow her instructions.

"If this is the job…"

"It is. This is your assignment, if anyone can manage it, you can."

"Anything I can follow up on right now?"

It was like Christmas had come early. Monroe could only grin as he went to his computer, tapping away at one thing or another. That distraction gave Vicki a chance to finally shiver, let her face scrunch up into a snarl. She needed a way to express her rage, and this was the only thing that could go without her ending up in prison. The expression on her face vanished as quickly as it had appeared when Monroe looked back at her, showing Vicki his monitor.

"I got some sources saying that Wayne's going around, visiting just about every piece of property he owns in the city. Some sorta charity thing or another. Should be at one of his restaurants right now. Think of this as your tour across Gotham. Let's you get used to the city, and you'll get an idea for what you're gonna be expecting here." Monroe looked pleased at the plan he had cooked up, and Vicki didn't feel like bursting his bubble, if only for the sake of her job.

"I'll get right on it. Don't worry, Mr. Monroe. I won't let you down." Vicki shot back, offering up another fake smile as she spoke up.

"I know you won't. Now get going. Wayne ain't gonna be staying there for long, don't wanna lose track of him after all." With that said and done, Monroe turned back to his computer and began typing away. Clearly, she had been dismissed, and Vicki didn't need to be told twice.

She marched out the door, as quickly as she had come in. Her face was impassive, even as she quickly jabbed the button for the ground floor. It was only when the elevator doors were shut, and she was sure that she was alone, that Vicki let her frustrations out.

She wasn't sure if the elevator was soundproof or not, but it wasn't that bad. Just a single moment to let out a scream of anger. She would have kicked the elevator, thrown her phone, something had her sense of self-preservation not hit her. She couldn't risk it. Vicki was on thin ice as it was, and having a meltdown in her office wouldn't help things. Not if she wanted to at least make a decent living in this city.

It was a hopeless, almost defeated Vicki Vale that left the elevator that she had so confidently marched into. She didn't have a chance in hell at actually making her case work, not with her reputation. Anyone else would have likely just laid down and died.

Not her though. Vicki was not about to let one thing ruin her life. If she was going to be given the worst possible assignment, she was going to give it her all. Monroe wanted stories about Bruce Wayne? Fine. She was going to deliver it, all tied up in a bow.

It wasn't the first time that Vicki had to track someone down, or tail them around a city. Even as she stepped out of the Gotham Gazette, she was already forming plans as she walked along the sidewalk. She'd have to get a reliable form of transportation. Track down other things about Bruce Wayne, get her some threads to follow up on. Any rich person had to have some dirt on them, after all. Above all else, though, she was going to need-

Her thoughts were cut off by the sounds of breaking glass, and what might have been gunshots.

A taser. She'd probably have to invest in a taser by the end of this all.

Next Chapter: 14th November