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electricgg · 15 days ago

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Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 13: All Of My Past, I Tried To Erase It, But Now I See, Would I Even Change It? (Part 1)

Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 (Part 1 / Here!) (Part 2) /

Trigger Warnings: Body Image Issues, Eating Issues.

The Kents' apartment smelled of ink and coffee beans.

Even after years of learning to control his strength, Clark still managed to crush pens with his bare hands if he got a bit too into his interview transcripts. Making a mess of ink over his papers and desk, groaning to himself for ruining another nice shirt, and gaining a belly laugh from his wife and the boys when he made his way to the kitchen sink to scrub off his now blue hands.

And if the other three were laughing a bit too much for his liking, the whole apartment would become full of squeals, laughter, and loud stomping. Clark taking his sweet revenge by staining his family and the walls of their home with his handprints.

It usually ended with all of them sprawled on the floor, still giggling and laughing while covered in ink.

On the other hand, Lois was still only to be trusted with the coffee machine in the kitchen. Every morning without fail, the place would smell of her favorite coffee brand, almost serving as an alarm clock for the rest of the family, which was still snoring or slumbering in their rooms.

Lois had tried multiple times to get Conner to like her coffee, already giving up on Clark after so many years of trying and deeming Jon too young to give him a taste. But to her luck, Conner also seemed to inherit Clark’s sweet tooth and blatant dislike for the drink.

Still, he continued to please her by trying her morning coffee despite the nausea and Clark’s pointed stare.

And all of this was part of what Conner deemed as home.

For him, home was Clark’s ink-stained hands and Lois’s morning coffee.

Home was also Ma’s apple pie, the one that she still insists has a magical healing ingredient for when somebody is feeling down. Home is also Pa’s Coke float after a long, hot day of working on the farm. And Jon’s drawings, the ones made with those cheap fruit-scented markers that he keeps in both of his bedrooms on Metropolis and Smallville.

Home wasn’t a place for him.

His family was his home, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

But right now? Conner would trade anything to avoid where this conversation was going.

“Are you sure he’s your only concern?” Lois squinted at him from behind her cup.

Clark gave her a pointed look, fingers coming to a stop from typing on his laptop. His glasses had slipped down his nose, making him look like an old man when he tried to look through the lenses by turning up his nose because he didn’t bother to fix them up.

He didn’t even need the glasses, not around them. But it seemed like he would just forget to drop his act even inside his home.

“I’m sure Tim is just going through a rough time.” The older man suggested, eyes drifting away from his wife and towards Conner, who sat right in front of him on the round dinner table. “If he’s anything like Bruce, I’m sure he’ll be back to normal once their current case is solved.”

“I don’t think it’s about the case, though,” Conner stated, hanging his arm on the back of his chair. His legs were spread out under the table, still wearing his pajama pants with a teddy bear print that Jon had proudly given him as a Christmas gift the previous year.

They were the most comfortable pieces of clothing he had ever gotten, so nobody could judge him for wearing them around the apartment. If someone teased him, they would have to deal with a teary-eyed Jon and an annoyed Conner ready to get them to apologize.

“He’s been, I don’t know,” he sighed, eyebrows creasing. “He is just acting weird.”

Lois snorted, finally taking a seat beside Clark at the table. Her cup clunked against the table as she put it down. “Define weird. No one in that family has any type of normal behavior.”

“Lois.” Clark chided. “That’s not nice.”

She shrugged, crossing her arms and leaning back on the chair. “It’s a fact. I speak only with the facts.”

Conner stayed quiet for a while, looking at the two adults as they bantered. He was already used to this conversation between them when it came to the Wayne family.

It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Clark had known Bruce and the boys for years, and he had developed a level of trust in them, despite their occasional clashing debates on certain opinions and themes. It was to be expected that he would come to Bruce’s defense when it came to some questionable decisions or actions made by the Dark Knight.

Even if Clark has been having a harder time justifying his friend’s actions lately.

Lois, on the other hand, had a very different opinion of Bruce Wayne. And she wasn’t shy about letting it be known. Because, despite all the good things that man has done for his city, both inside and outside his suit, Lois Lane refuses to ignore Bruce’s actions and behavior toward his children.

More specifically, towards his daughter.

Conner didn’t know all the details about it, but from what he gathered from past comments and overheard conversations, Lois had been present at the Wayne girl’s first public appearance.

And from what he had gathered, that event had been a disaster that continued to make Lois’ blood boil.

It was curious to him. It was curious how everything seemed to be circling back towards her.

How in Tim’s mindless mutters, her name was the one to get his attention amongst the mess of words his friend spouted. How, despite listening to Barbara’s warnings, his mind could just picture her sharp grin and long curls that refused to stay still for a single moment. How her blunt words and quick glances made such a big impression on him, no matter how short and fast their first meeting had been.

He couldn’t even forget the sound-

“I recognize that look anywhere.” Lois's smug voice snapped him out of his thoughts, his head facing towards the two adults.

Clark looked at him with a raised eyebrow, the corner of his mouth rising very slowly, while Lois had a triumphant expression on her face and taking a sip from her coffee. Then, she leaned a bit forward, her index finger pointed right at Conner’s face.

It put him on the edge, feeling all his danger alarms blaring in the back of his head.

Because when Lois caught onto something, there was no way of escaping.

“Absent from conversations. Longing sighs. And most importantly, that dreamy, far-away look that can only belong to a Kent.” She mentioned, eyes sharpening while Clark coughed behind his fist. Conner could only sink deeper into his seat, feeling his face turn warm as Lois rose from her chair with a laugh.

“Can’t say I’m surprised! You’re a teenager, after all. It was bound to happen at some point.” She teased, going around the table to ruffle his hair as he groaned while covering his now bright red face. Which got a chuckle out of Clark and coos from Lois.

Conner tried to move her hands away, but she simply laughed and hugged him from behind while he pouted at Clark, offended that the man wasn’t doing anything to stop her.

“Who are they? Are they a friend of yours? Maybe Tim’s?” Clark asked, closing his laptop and taking off his glasses.

“They’re obviously from Gotham, or Kon wouldn’t be so insistent on visiting so often,” Lois added. “Are they close to the Wayne family? Are they a boy or a girl? How long have you known each other?”

As Clark and Lois continued to ask more questions, Conner could only hope to pass away out of pure embarrassment and shame.

There goes his sense of privacy. It was nice while it lasted.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“It stinks like ass in there.”

“If that was the ladies' bathroom,” Bobby sighed, shoving his uniform deep into his bag. “Imagine ours. It could count as a biohazard weapon.”

Maximoff grunted, closing the door of the truck after throwing her bag in the backseat, which hit a half-asleep Warren. He glared at her through the back window before slipping his eyes closed and grumbling to himself, crossing his arms and leaning his head back against the seat.

It had been easy sneaking out of the academy grounds. Their classes were cut short to finish up the preparations for the recital. It was apparently a big deal for the student body, and they took it very seriously. So seriously, that plenty of arguments and near fist fights over the order of turns had broken out when the list had been revealed earlier in the week. It was hard to understand why everyone was so stressed over it until Warren gave some insight.

The recital wasn’t exactly just some silly talent show for the school, but another way for college scouts to find candidates for their programs.

It worked similarly to college coaches recruiting athletes for their teams, but mostly focused on the arts. Gotham Academy had the resources and contacts to bring prestige Universities to this recital, like Juilliard, The Curtis Institute, Berklee, etc.

And that was just the big price because the journey to get it was even more brutal.

To be part of the recital, you had to go through a series of auditions. You couldn’t just sign up and do your act; you had to fight for your spot against your classmates, and then hope for the best at the recital.

Warren wasn’t exactly passionate about music; all of his plans revolved around his father’s company and inheritance. He would go to Gotham University, study finances, marry whoever his father approved, and then grow bald while sitting on his ass for the rest of his life in his father’s fancy office.

…Well, that’s how Warren explained it.

But Wayne had other plans with him. She had seen Warren practice the violin by himself one day after school and dragged him to the auditions while claiming them to be a musical duo from that day on. He had refused at first, but then the famous deal was made, and he had no choice but to agree to it.

But all of those efforts had been thrown out the window by the very bizarre situation they had on their hands at the moment.

With the recital out of their plans, now exchanged with sneaking into probably the most dangerous place in the whole city, the teens had embraced their new target with plenty of questions about how the hell they were going to be able to pull it off.

The first stage was easy: sneaking out of the academy.

Since there was pure chaos when the last bell rang, all three of them (plus an invisible ghost to the normal eye) had slipped away to the parking lot and took off in Bobby’s truck. The only obstacle they faced was avoiding Mr. Logan’s sharp eyes while going through the halls. It was almost as if he had known they were up to something. But they hid in the corners and walked with small crowds of students until they made it outside, successfully evading the teacher.

(Or so they thought.)

The second stage was where they were currently stuck: Changing their uniforms at the closest gas station to the Trigate Bridge and fueling up (Both the truck and their stomachs).

Finding out that the asylum was outside on a completely different island, on the city limits, had put their previous plan on shaky ground. If it were on the mainland, they could have just snuck into the building without getting noticed with Maximoff’s speed (which was a shitty plan because she has little to no control over her speed yet, the security cameras and the fact that none of them knew how to hack or some bullshit like that).

But Arkham Asylum was located on Mercey Island, an island that was filled with security, and the only way of getting in was with an authorized visit permit.

And, of course, since she was a minor, it had to be signed by an adult and accompanied by them.

Asking Bruce for the permit was clearly out of the question, or anyone in the family. Maximoff already didn’t trust them, and the whole letter fiasco left it pretty clear that the man would go to far-off lengths to keep her away from Harvey Dent.

(It also chilled her to the bone being around him lately. She didn’t like how his stare lingered on her the whole time she wandered into a room or hall.)

Alfred was also out; she didn’t want to get the poor man in trouble. He had done plenty for her by bringing her meals to her room, so she didn’t have to talk to anyone else, and also letting her know when everyone was out of the manor. Asking him for help in this was a bit too much to ask of him.

There was the option of asking Barbara, whom she had been texting in the past week, but she didn’t know her well enough to ask her something like that. Plus, the fact that Richard was her boyfriend didn’t exactly help out in thrusting her right out of the gate.

And just like that, they were stumped with their choices.

No permit. No supervising adult. And no way to get into Arkham.

The door of the gas station buzzed as Bobby and Maximoff made their way inside. There were only two employees, one at the cashier and the other trying to fix the slushy machine, and a red-headed customer looking at the fridges. Bobby went directly to the bored-looking cashier to pay for some gas, while she went straight to the snack aisle.

She looked at the overfilled shelves, quickly taking the mini sugar donut packages and plenty of potato chip bags. It wasn’t long until her arms were completely occupied with the brightly colored bags.

Her stomach grumbled loudly, letting her know that it was time to either eat once again or face the consequences.

That had also been a bother lately. Eating.

The pangs of hunger had multiplied to an abnormal amount during the week. Every half an hour, her stomach would cause a riot for food until her eyes teared up in pain from the earth-shattering headache that sprouted from the back of her head.

It was quite disorienting the first time she got that headache. She almost fell right on her face while running on the track if it weren’t for Mr. Logan’s quick reflexes.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

“That’s enough for today.” He growled out, helping her sit up on the bench. Her face was pale and sweaty, her mouth dry and panting.

Mr. Logan gently guided her head down, positioning it between her knees so she could take deeper breaths. The boys hadn’t made it to the field yet, still wrapped up in their practices, so it was up to the teacher to deal with this situation by himself.

Maximoff didn’t know when she had closed her eyes, but she snapped them open when a cold, wet towel was put over the back of her neck. Hissing and cursing at the sudden sensation until it brought a bit of relief. Then, a water bottle was pressed against her lips, instantly taking big gulps from it.

“Easy, bub. It’s not going anywhere.” He muttered, a heavy but warm hand patting gently her shoulder, until she finished the bottle.

When she tried to talk, her words sounded slurred and heavy. But he hushed her and shoved one of his snack bars into her hands, the plastic package already opened by him. She didn’t hesitate to take a bite, sighing deeply with her head hanging low and hunching in her seat.

“Did you eat before practice? You can’t run without having something to eat, kid.” He fumed in a sharp tone, his bushy eyebrows frowning at her while he stared at her from his kneeling position at her right side.

But she nodded, still chewing on her bar as her free hand unfolded the cold towel at her neck and put it over her head, hoping it would soothe the pounding between her ears.

“I did,” she croaked. “Took a whole meal from the cafeteria that was about to get trashed before it closed.”

“And water? Did you drink water today?” He prodded, frown deepening.

“Yeah,” She drawled.

The teacher hummed to himself, sighing roughly as he stood up and walked to their things on the bench behind her. His thoughts go to all the possibilities this new development could mean to the girl.

He knew speedsters burned calories way faster than the average person. He had seen Pietro down a ridiculous number of burgers in two minutes, and the disgusting sugary concoctions he makes when he’s on a sugar craving. Logan also remembered Hank’s trial-and-error phase to make a supplement that covered all of Pietro's bodily necessities, which resulted in the snack bars and protein shake that Pietro hated until they added some ice cream flavor to it.

And it worked. To Pietro, at least.

But she wasn’t Pietro. Pietro was a grown adult, and she was a teenager. Pietro had complete control of his mutation when they met, and the kid just had her powers awakened. And no mutation is ever the same, no matter how similar they are.

Logan needed to get Hank down to Gotham, he would know what to do and the right things to ask. For now, he would have to make do with what he has at hand.

It would have to be enough for now.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

After that, Mr. Logan started to shove those snack bars right into her bag every morning as soon as she made it to his class. During the day, he also managed to find her around the campus to remind her to drink water and give her even more bars.

It was odd. Having such an intimidating man appear at every corner just to remind her to eat and take it easy. It was somewhat sweet, too. It meant he cared. That he cared enough to take some of his time just to make sure she was doing alright.

And that made her feel even worse.

Because, at the end of the day, she was unsure if she deserved it. All that care. All that attention.

From Mr. Logan.

From Bobby and Warren.

Why did she get to have it and not Wayne?

It had been a constant thought in the past days. The feeling of taking something that wasn’t hers, that wasn’t meant to be hers. The constant sensations of wrongness when she looked in the mirror and felt as if she was doing everything wrong.

That she wasn’t the one who was supposed to be standing there. The one who was supposed to be filling the lungs of this body. The one who was supposed to be using that voice. The one who was supposed to feel, to touch, the breath, to talk, to eat, to walk, to-

Her eyes caught the reflection of the crystal on the fridge’s door.

Parts of her clothes hung off her body, the collarbone sticking out on the neck of her light grey top. The bones of her hands were more prominent and almost skeletal under the translucent light. Her cheeks were sunken and pale, along with the bags beneath her eyes.

Her chest heaved sharply, words stuck behind her throat, but her mind was reeling nonstop.

Look what you did. You don’t deserve this body. It’s not even yours, and look how you treat it. So careless. Can’t take care of something that isn’t even yours. Why are you even here? You don’t deserve it. Why you and not her? Why are you breathing and not her? Why did you get the chance, and she didn’t? She is the one who deserves another chance. Not you. Why you? Why you? Why yoU? Why YOU?! WHY YOU? WHY YOU WHY YOU WHYYOUWHYOU-

“Breath with me.”

She shook her head, distantly hearing something fall to the ground, and her hands were weightless. Trembling and sweating between her fingers.

“Breath with me.”

Warm fingers wrapped around her wrist, making her flinch (It’s bone. It’s pure bone-), but it squeezed back and brought her hand up to put it against a firm surface. She felt the threads of fabric under her fingers, distantly recognizing that it was a chest by the beating sensation against her palm.

The heartbeat was going so fast. It was almost like it was buzzing.

It felt oddly comforting. Almost familiar, in some weird sense. As if she had felt something like this before. A heartbeat going so fast that it was almost impossible to register normally.

‘Your mom used to say I was like a hummingbird. Always buzzing around and moving nonstop. I didn’t get it back then, but now? You get to be my own hummingbird.’

‘But I don’t wanna be a bird, Uncle Pie!’

‘No takebacks, my hummingbird! That means you’re my favorite!’

‘And what about Billy?’

‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him!’

Her vision started to clear up, ears finally heard the background music from the gas station and Bobby’s panicked voice. Her eyes looked down at the ground, noticing the snacks lying around the floor. Thankfully, none of them were broken, just a bit dirty.

Then, she looked up, her reflection staring back at her once more.

She looked normal, with no bones sticking out or sunken skin. Just wet cheeks and a bit pale in the face.

“Are you alright, babes?” Bobby asked, hands cooling her shoulders as he turned her around to take a closer look at her. She nodded slowly, not trusting her voice at the moment, by the feeling of dryness in her throat.

Just as she was about to turn back to pick up her mess on the ground, a man who had been standing beside them the whole time motioned her to stop and began to pick up the snacks quickly. Maximoff stared openly at him until he got up and started to hand over the chips.

He was rather tall, almost a whole head taller than her. Rosy skin with freckles over his nose and cheeks. He wore jeans and red running shoes, a dark red hoodie with a pocket at the front.

Red hair, all sprawled in different directions. As if the wind had been playing with it.

That wasn’t Uncle Pie.

“That’s not something to take lightly.” He said with a side smile. “Panic attacks and low sugar are a recipe for disaster. I would know.”

“Sorry, sir.” She muttered, looking to the side, fighting off the feeling of disappointment on her chest. “It’s been a long day.”

“Take it easy,” The man shrugged, taking a drink out of the fridge and handing it to Bobby. “Word of advice? Listen to your body. Ignoring it will make things worse.”

“Thanks, sir. We will keep it in mind,” Bobby butted in, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her to the cashier.

While Bobby paid for their things, Maximoff’s gaze stayed on the man the whole time. She knew what she heard and felt. Those heartbeats were almost similar to her own. Similar to Uncle Pie. And it wasn’t a normal heartbeat, since she even knew the difference between a normal one and the buzzing thing that she had on her chest.

That man was like her. And he knew she was like him.

The redhead was also looking at her, but only gave her a wink and put a finger to his lips before he walked out of the gas station.

She almost didn’t wait for Bobby to take the receipt before grabbing the bag with their stuff, pulling Bobby by the back of his jacket, and making it out the door as quickly as she could without drawing too much attention.

But when they made it outside, there was no sign of the man.

“Damn it!” She cursed, stomping her foot against the ground while Bobby flailed around behind her, disoriented.

“What? What’s up?” He said, looking around the empty lot and fixing his clothes.

“That guy! He just-ugh!” She groaned, stomping towards their truck and swinging the plastic bag on her side with Bobby following her back, looking confused.

They reached the truck, Maximoff taking the passenger seat while muttering to herself and throwing the bag into the backseat without looking back, buckling her seat belt with a huff. She didn’t even hear if she accidentally woke up Warren from his nap, too deep in her head.

Bobby took a few moments to get inside since he was putting up some gas in the truck. He sighed, putting on his seatbelt and starting up the engine. “Did you know that guy? He was a bit too friendly.”

“No, but he certainly knows something.” She pointed, frown deepening, and arms crossing.

“Do you think he had bad intentions?”

It took a moment for her to answer, but she shook her head. “No. I don’t think he did.” She bit her lip, leaning back against the seat. “I just thought he was someone else…”

Bobby nodded slowly, “You got your hopes up then?”

“You could say that.” She sighed. “It’s just, I don’t even know what to do anymore. What is even the point of this if I just keep getting into deeper shit and bullshit answers and it’s all just so pointless? I don’t even know how going to Arkham is going to help! Hell, who knows how we are even going to get in?!”

Bobby grabbed her arm since she was widely gesturing around and had almost hit him a couple of times. He pulled her gently, making Maximoff look at him with a tired look. Sleeping had also been difficult during the week.

Having dreams of that endless hall and a house that no longer existed was taking a toll on her.

“You’re taking things too fast.” He admonished. “We've only been doing this for a week. And the odds are not exactly in our favor. But you need to take it one step at a time and open up to us. Taking all of this on your own is not helping anyone, and especially not you.”

“But what if I fail? I could drag you and Warren, and even Wayne. I’m just failing everyone left and right, and I don’t-”

“You haven’t failed anyone!” He insisted, cold spiking against her skin. “You can’t say you failed when you just started! Saying that it’s more than an insult to me, to Warren, and Wayne!”

Maximoff butted in. “But I-”

“No buts! We are going to Arkham, you are talking to Harvey Dent, we are getting some real answers even if I have to freeze the goddamn island and everything is going. To. Be. Fine!”

The two of them glared at each other for a while, the windows of the truck covered in a mist of cold, preventing them from seeing the outside. Bobby’s hand had turned into ice, but it wasn’t burning her like the last time. The sleeve of her jacket was stuck against his fingers. Maximoff’s stare wavered for a moment, clicking her teeth before pulling her arm away from Bobby’s grip.

He seemed satisfied with her silent agreement, the temperature slowly rising up once again.

Just as he began to drive the car, Maximoff spoke silently.

“How are we even going to get in? We've got no plan.”

Before Bobby could open his mouth, a high-pitched voice with a heavy accent spoke from the backseat of the truck.

“Looks like you kiddos could use a li’l outside interference!”

The two teens slowly turned to look at each other, eyes wide and lips thin. Then, even more slowly, they looked to the backseat with the feeling of dread looming behind their necks.

A tided-up Warren glared at them with fury, his mouth biting on the sleeve of his uniform jacket while his pants were tied tightly around his arms. A woman with white hair in two ponytails, one red and the other black, had an arm over the blonde’s shoulder while grinning sweetly at the other two.

“Lucky for you,” She announced, jostling Warren a bit on her side. “ Auntie Harley’s is feelin’ generous at the moment!”

Maximoff’s eye twitched when she caught Wayne’s form behind the cackleling woman, taking notice of the innocent shrug the ghost gave to her.

She was totally going to do a salt circle around her bed tonight.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Maybe getting to the recital two hours early was a bit too much. But Bruce didn’t hear any of the kids complaining about it, and neither would he.

It had been pretty easy to reschedule a couple of meetings back at Wayne Enterprises. Tim may have also had a hand in it, but Bruce was quite adamant to be the one to do it personally at the office, and give his secretary the proper paperwork and new schedule dates so she could make the calls.

Though he had been reading over the proposals made by Worthington Industries on the limo while Alfred drove, he still needed to oversee them with Tim before making any final decisions for their upcoming meeting next week.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. They even made some good points that Bruce wanted to discuss in person with Mr. Worthington.

Aside from the founding of the vaccine, Worthington was willing to discuss an alliance with Wayne Enterprises for a new security system. It wasn’t detailed on what exactly this proposal included, but Tim had supposed it had to do with some security cameras made out of some new material.

The way Bruce saw it, it could be a new option for his nightly job depending on what Worthing presented at the meeting.

Business aside, just like the rest of the kids, Bruce was also trying to keep his mind busy.

He knew he had fucked up. Badly.

His daughter refused to look him in the eye the whole week. Avoided the kitchen like the plague in the mornings despite his efforts to get up early in the morning (even after a long night of patrol) just so he could say good morning or ask her how she slept. In the afternoons, before he could go down to the cave, Bruce would knock on her door, hoping she would open it and allow him to see her face.

He didn’t care if she was glaring at him or didn’t speak to him. He just needed to see her.

But she never opened the door. She never came out of her room. She would just turn up her music and ignore the knocking.

Not even deep into the night, her door wouldn’t budge when he tried to open it.

He just wanted to check on her. See her for a moment, even though she was asleep. Just see that she's alright, that she was sleeping well. Maybe even see if she still slept curled up under her blankets as if it were a cocoon, looking so small and fragile in the middle of that bed.

Was it too much to ask? He just needs to see-

“That’s him,” Dick hissed by his ear, glaring at the end of the hall with his hands shoved into his pockets. “That’s the man I told you about.”

Bruce locked those thoughts in the back of his mind, posture steeling and shoulders squared up as his eyed drifted towards the spot Dick was staring at.

There, standing in the hall while leaning against a wall, was a teacher who smoked an old cigar by an open window. Looking gruff and standoffish in a brown leather jacket, and glaring at the floor.

Logan Munroe.

History teacher. Graduated from the University of Toronto. Canadian. Forty-five years old. Married with a seven-year-old daughter. Lived in New York for the past sixteen years. Moved to Gotham for this sole semester as a substitute teacher.

And, by Dick’s words, a creep that had been eyening his daughter since he started working at the Academy.

Getting to the recital early turned out to be an advantage.

Bruce nodded towards Dick, letting him go to be with the rest of them who had left to wander around the halls of the campus. Probably trying to find their sister before the recital, just so they could wish her good luck on her presentation.

Tonight, they would start from scratch.

A do-over.

They would gain back her trust and affection, never taking it for granted again.

Logan didn’t lift his gaze, not even when Bruce made it to his side. The sharply dressed man waited for him to do something, anything, but Logan simply continued to smoke his cigar without a single sign of acknowledgement.

It made Bruce’s jaw tighten.

“You must be Mr. Munroe, I suppose.” He greeted, that fake tone that he used around the public, making Logan’s eyebrow twitch as he raised his head to look at the man. Bruce smiled sharply, offering his hand to shake. “My daughter is in your class, and she speaks very fondly of you. I’m Br-”

“Mr. Wayne, I know.” He gruffed, putting out his cigar with the edge of the window and throwing it out there. Logan shook his hand, staring directly at his eyes and gripping tightly.

Bruce gripped back, his smile tightening before letting go. The teacher had heavy and strong hands. And an even tighter grip.

“I was wondering how she was doing at school. She is not exactly a fan of it, if you get what I mean.” He laughed, refusing to look away from the man’s stare.

Logan huffed, leaning his leg against the wall and crossing his arms. “Could have fooled me. She loves being here. Had to insist a couple of times so she would go in her grandfather’s car and go home.”

Bruce’s eyes crinkled at the corners, almost hearing the message the man was trying to say.

“Alfred is our butler, actually.”

“Hm, so your butler?” He drawled, a sarcastic edge on his voice. “Guess I got confused, since he’s always picking her up. Does he also get paid as a chauffeur?”

“I’m more concerned about my daughter than what Alfred gets paid for at the moment, Mr. Munroe.” Bruce retorted, feeling his neck pulsing hotly against his dress shirt.

Logan nodded, fighting off his smirk and settling down. “Well, she is a smart girl. Alert on class. Always asks questions and gets a bit heated when it comes to class debates. Quite competitive, if I’m being honest.”

Bruce took hold of that information as if hoarding a book. A sense of pride filled his chest. Of course, she was smart! She probably soaked up information as if she were a sponge and used it to her advantage. And competitive? He wasn’t sure that was possible, and she was pretty passive, but either way, it meant she was confident to speak up and show how brilliant she-

“Though I am concerned about what she eats at home.”

…Eat?

Bruce frowned, his voice turning serious. “What does that mean?”

Logan narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. “Are you home a lot, sir?”

“Whenever is possible, but yes.”

The teacher put his hands on his hips, jaw twitching as he lifted himself from the wall and took a few steps closer to the other man. “Do you just stay holed up in your fancy office working, or are you truly home?”

“That’s out of your business, Mr. Munroe.” Bruce's voice darkened, grey eyes steeling as he looked down at the frowning man.

“Right, I’m sorry,” Logan gruffed out, scratching his scruffy jaw. “Out of my pay, right?”

The two of them stared at each other for a long time, the tension growing colder and colder the more the silence reigned between them. It was already darkening outside, and the shoes squeaking against the tiles broke them out of their glaring contest.

Tim made his way towards them, frowning at the scene before him until he reached Bruce. “They already opened the amphitheater. Dick insists on getting the best seats.”

Bruce nodded, patting Tim’s shoulder. “Did you find your sister?”

He shook his head, eyebrows twisting in displeasure. “No, the practice rooms are blocked. We tried getting in but Dick dragged us outside to find you. He says we can’t interrupt her from her practice.”

Logan snorted, gaining looks from the other two. Bruce nodded at the man, starting to walk away with Tim at his side. “A pleasure, Mr. Munroe. We must get going.”

“Sure, enjoy your evening.” He answered, a strange look on his face, before he disappeared down the hall with his hands shoved into his pockets.

And just like that, Logan Munroe made his way on top of Bruce’s black list.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Turns out, getting into Arkham was easy.

Aside from the fact that security was shit, having an ex-employee that knew the place like the back of her hand on their side helped out a lot.

Harley, or as she insisted on being called, Auntie Harley, had a basic plan to get into Arkham from the very beginning. She was planning on stealing a vehicle and pretending to be a security worker with a uniform that she stole from someone (whether the person was alive or dead wasn’t asked) and then getting into the facility to break out her wife from Arkham after she got arrested for an attack earlier that week in one of Gotham’s parks.

Apparently, Poison Ivy could break out if she wanted to, but Harley insisted on doing the rescuing this time. Or something like that.

Bobby tried to explain it could be a foreplay thing, but Warren shut him up real quick before he could say anything else. Wayne just wheezed by Maximoff’s ear while all three of them hid on the back seat floor, Harley driving on the front while she talked pure nonsense to the bored-looking guard before allowing them to drive through the gates of the asylum.

She drove them through the back of the facility, ordering them to stay in the truck until she came back. They thought of just saying fuck it and go inside but she suddenly appeared with three more uniforms and three knocked out guards that she shoved into the truck.

“I’m pretty sure we can go to jail for this.” Warren hissed, adjusting his cap so none of his hair could be seen.

“Where’s your sense of adventure, dude?” Bobby whispered, gleaming as they walked behind Harley through the dark and worn walls of the place.

Warren hit Bobby from the back, making him wince as they passed another sleepy guard sitting in the hall. “More like a sense of self-preservation. Did you forget we got kidnapped?!”

“Is it kidnapping if we were already planning on getting here?” Maximoff whispered over her shoulder, feeling a bit annoyed at the tight cap on her head that held her hair inside.

She needed to cut it off soon, or she would take the scissors herself and end up looking like-

“Okay, sweetcheeks,” Harley spun around suddenly, making them gulp and stop on the spot while she pointed at the bronze gate before them. “This is the meetin’ spot, so don’t forget it!”

The three of them nodded sharply at the same time, making her squeal and cackle. Then she shoved her finger at them with a wide look. “You got an hour, then I’m peelin’ outta here with or without ya. And trust me, ya don’t wanna walk home!”

“Thanks!” Maximoff said with a grin. The teens went through the gate, encountering a long hall that was divided to the left and right at the end, metal doors with numbers and voices murmuring or yelling from inside the rooms.

The girl turned to look at the rogue, who was already walking down another hall. “Do you know his cell?” she asked loudly.

Harlye looked over her shoulder, not once stopping her walk. “Easy-peasy, sugar! Ol’Harv’s sittin’ pretty in cell 314. Be a doll an’ tell ‘im he still owes me a new deck o’ cards, will ya’?”

She nodded with a smile and pulled Warren and Bobby down the other hall, following the numbers on the wall while ignoring the voices from the rooms and wandering eyes from the small windows on the doors.

An electric clock marked the hour on a wall before they disappeared down the right hall.

7:45 PM

Welcome to Arkham, indeed.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Author's note: Here's Part 1! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! It took me a while to write it because of many thing getting in the way through the past two weeks (good things tho!). Next part will try to be out around Saturday or Sunday, still figuring out because of my filming and class schedule, but I'll keep you guys updated! Remember that I love answering asks and comments, don't hesitate to send them! Sending you lots of hugs and love, GG✨

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