Issue #2: Gotham Kid

Note: I forgot I don't have access to Bold and Italic font styles. Internal monologues reads weird.

...

Now, while I did say I cherish Mother Maria with all my heart, and, believe me, I stay true to my words. There are limitations to that matter, however.

"I'm just going to the bathroom, mother!" I shout as I escape her deathly embrace and run towards my room's bathroom as fast as my pudgy little feet can run.

It had been a day and a half since my kidnapping and my mother, contrary to my experience with her, had not once let me be alone in one place. Even when I was being checked by the various doctors in Gotham General Hospital.

Not even when the damn GCPD Commissioner was interviewing me. She was there, looking at me like some kind of porcelain doll. 

Her presence and emotional support did help me abate the commissioner's purpose during the 'interview'. Apparently, he had the intention to "persuade" me into telling the media that Gotham police were not lacking in the ensuing investigations.

Though I do know that they had only been investigating for almost two hours before Batman was on the case, his sudden declaration that it would be in the family's 'best interest' to do so irked me to oblivion.

As such, I… Well, I might have bluffed that I will confer such a grand decision with my best pal, Superman, and my lovely mentor, Lex Luthor. That got him off my back real quick.

"Whew!" I crack my sore neck, being hugged to death by a bunch of my mother's maids. They too were fond of me, a trait they assuredly have gotten from my mother.

"I'm going to burn that fudger down when I'm old enough." I mutter to the large mirror in front of me as the image of the portly police commissioner appears in my mind.

I'm alone. Why am I censoring myself? Fuck him.

Suddenly, a frown escapes my mouth as I gaze at my childish form. "Did I grow taller?"

Man, I did. An inch or so. 

Not only that, my muscles, although still plump and pale, have a bit of tone to them.

"Oh, my god! Did the Court of Owls give me superpowers?" My eyes widen as I check my body. 

With no visible mutation, I grab a toothbrush and try to break it with one hand. I strain hard, but to no avail. 

So, X on super strength.

I place the unbroken toothbrush on the sink counter and move a foot away from it, just far enough that I need to reach outwards for my hands to grab it. I focus my senses on my right hand, the dominant one, and try to grab it as fast as I can.

"Run, Edmund, run–OW! fudge me on seven Sundays!" All I did was jam my finger into the granite sink.

"Honey, what happened? Are you alright?" My mother yells concernly from outside my door.

"I-I'm okay. I'm just wiping away the bruises."

Another X on super speed or any teleportation ability off that invisible checklist.

Jesus, Edmund. Why are you being too cavalier about this? The Court of freaking Owls, a cult that serves a dark god, just performed a blood ritual on me. Ten Metahumans died and their blood was transferred to me.

I breathed out, relaxing my already taut nerves. Something is definitely wrong with me because, usually, I am wont to take things slow.

Even when Lex Luthor told me to intern at LexCorp a few months ago, it took me a fortnight just to decide.

Just as I come to that startling conclusion, hearing pick up murmurs of conversation from the other side of the door.

"Eddie! Please come out. You have a very important visitor!" Mother roars from the other side, excitement in her voice.

I disrobe and wash myself free of grime and dirt before quickly putting on another set of robes.

Jasmine, mother's personal maid and her nanny during her younger years, appears in front of me as I head out of the bathroom. 

Her dark skin helps cover up her wizened face, but as usual, she is surprisingly lithe and graceful in her work. She hands me my clothes and helps me don it fastidiously.

"Who's the visitor, Miss Jo?" I ask, my voice straining hard to be low, much to her delight. "Is it Mr. Luthor?"

"Oh, gosh, no," She replies, pinching my cheeks as she finishes dressing me. Humiliating as it was, my hands are a bit too tired and too short for the clothing. "Come, now. They're waiting in the living room."

Her secrecy makes the guest more mysterious in my eyes, for not everyone ever gets the respect of privacy from Miss Jasmine.

As I near the doors, my ears pick up laughter from Father and Mother and one more familiar figure. A deep laughter, one taken from the gut.

I enter, revealing the familiar figure of a light-skinned suave man. His dark blue eyes and styled black hair complemented the tie-less dark suit and white shirt. His smirk could swoon ladies, his gaze could intimidate convicts, and his words could render the president sweating.

"J-Jesus christ." I mutter instinctively.

"Bruce Wayne, actually." The eccentric alter-ego of the Dark Knight sits before me, long legs crossed over another as he smiled at me.

God, that damn smile. It irks me how handsome he is.

Calm down, Ed. Your parents are still alive, and that's something he doesn't have. Be the bigger man.

"H-how can I help you, Mr. Wayne?" I let out my naturally high voice, frustrating me further.

"Please, call me Bruce." He says as he nods at my father and mother. "I was just wondering why I had no knowledge that Gotham has our little own child genius? It is unbecoming of me not to offer my congratulations on becoming apprenticed by my dear friend Lex."

He lies so damn good.

"Well, that and I am here to poach you from Luthor!" He jokes, eliciting faux laughter from my father.

"Oh, I assure you, Mr. Wayne, if my son truly wants to change his internship to Wayne Enterprises, then I would take him there myself." My father says, buttering up Bruce.

"Then why didn't you do so in the first place?" Bruce, the eccentric billionaire, takes a damn good shot at Papa Serana.

Giuseppe stutters about, straining hard to keep his smile.

"Well, to be honest, Bruce, Gio and my lovely boy were in Metropolis for a second round of angel investments for a new coal mine east of Gotham." Mother covers for the sweating Papa Serana.

"You seem to forget that Thomas Wayne, my father, helped the Serana get a foothold in this city no more than 30 years ago. Is gratitude no longer a thing?" Bruce's words cut through the guilt of Father, startling Mother into speechlessness.

"That'll be enough, Mr. Wayne." I say gravely, taking a seat adjacent to his. The fireplace illuminates my form, albeit miniature–making my shadow bigger. "Is your purpose here to see if my family is still loyal to the Waynes?"

He could go for my fool of a father as long as he enjoys it, a fair game given his reckless spending of family fortune. But dare he make a move against Mother…

"If so, then my expectations of you seem to break the already low bar." I continue, gazing at him with a calm eye. "Is that why Luscious Fox handles all Enterprise business? That's quite sad, seeing as that meant you didn't square up to your late father's capabilities."

Bruce frowns, perfectly keeping up the act of a hedonistic playboy, as he scoffs at me in disdain.

"Edmund!" Father admonishes harshly.

"T-oh, dear." Mother didn't know what to do.

Bruce smiles through gritted teeth, uncrossing his legs and gazing back at my father. "Whatever. Giuseppe, if you ever go back to your right mind, call me."

He throws a business card to the coffee table, stands up and begins leaving the room. As he does so, I smile at the strange glint in his eyes.

As soon as he leaves the room, my father gazes at me. "How dare you?"

He strides forward with all the anger of a man with a pencil mustache and grabs my cheeks roughly. "You dumb fucking brat!"

"Giuseppe, please!" Mother tries to stop him, but the bastard slaps her away. 

She stumbles and nearly bumps her head into the frame of the chair, but, fortunately, Jasmine is there to lend her a hand.

"Shut up, you whore!" His words bring a well of reasonable anger in me, so I try to break my cheeks free from his tyrannic hands. But, no matter how hard I try, he is much too strong for me. "And you! The next time you screw a damn deal up again-"

"I'm shorry, shir!" I apologize, though restrained by his tight grip. "I will apologizhe to Mishter Wanyne!"

I know what he is. I've dealt with him and people like him in the past and the only way to stop them is to do what they want before they tell you what they want. It plays on their ego that whomever they vent their anger to is subservient to them.

I gaze at my tear-filled mother as a small smile appears on my face, alleviating her worries as best I could.

I bow my head at Father as he removes the firm grip on my cheeks. He motions for me to go, so I do.

My footsteps are the only sound I could hear as I exit the manor, forcibly tuning out the bastard's virulent admonishment of my mother.

When Lex Luthor came upon me and asked me to accomplish a series of mental tasks, I was intrigued and, quite frankly, scared to my bones. The man would sell his mother just so he can provide supplement to his massive ego.

But, then, a thought occurred to me. Giuseppe is a vindictive, tyrannical, jealous-prone bastard. He had made this life worse than it could have been.

If Luthor could just do me one fucking favor. Just one. I would have served that man within the next five years. By that time, Superman would have thrown this guy in jail, so I was well and good on the last part.

Alas, after the kidnapping, no message nor visit came from the bald bastard. Still, it was a blessing in disguise, since the man would probably just use me for some experiment to check whatever made me smarter than most toddlers.

I sever my thoughts as Bruce's car nearly passes by me. "Mr. Wayne." I called out.

The vehicle halts in front of me as if it was by design. The window rolls down and Bruce Wayne appears in all his glory.

"Yes?" He speaks with a sweet baritone.

I scan the environment and see multiple people around me. The maids, the gardener, the guy who wears a coat in summer.

"Do you mind scooting over, Mr Wayne?." I ask as I open the car door, gently motioning for him to move to the other seat. He stares blankly at me. "Please scoot over, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce gives me a dangerous look, but since he's undercover, makes way for me. He gazes at his driver, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline.

"Alfred, we'll take a detour north." He orders as he removes the button on his blazer and gazes at me with a critical eye. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"Good. We'll go to that new restaurant owned by Falcone. The Hyacinth." He says to Alfred.

As I gaze at the arguably most famous butler in my world, I cannot help but be shocked by his youth and his hair. 

My god, it's still there.

Alfred seems to notice my stare as he nods at me with that gentle smile.

I smile back, of course. It's only courteous to the man who raised the Dark Knight.

Speaking of that handsome devil, I turn my attention to Bruce Wayne. "My father would like me to apologize to you for… aggravating you like that."

"Tell your father that I accept your apology that he wanted you to give." He replies, a small smirk briefly appearing before returning to his normal handsome smile. "This is a safe space, Edmund. We can talk here without anyone knowing."

I give him a sad smile as my ears take in the car's smell. The scent of fresh clothes, butterscotch, and lavender pervades my nostrils.

"You smell wonderful, Mr. Wayne." I began. 

Resting my head upon the seat's backrest, my mind racing with my previous accident. "I was so lucky… back then. Superman went out of his way to save me. He… was amazing, Mr. Wayne. He was… super." 

"I've met him. You're right, he is super."

"Batman was there too, sir." I say, looking at the passing streets of Gotham.

Truth be told, Gotham is lovely when the sun is out. Even the criminals would like to have R&R, so they make sure to not destroy too much of the city.

"He was, huh?" His answers are short and to the point, much to my advantage. I do like to talk.

"He folded a lot of spines back there." My smirk widens. "Thankfully, they arrived before I… before something happened to me."

"You're lucky, then."

"I am. So powerless… weak. I guess my father is right." My words seem to influence Alfred, for I can see a small frown in the rear-view mirror. "My brain is nothing without power. You know, that's why I accepted Mr. Luthor's invitation."

"Is that so?"

"He said with my ability, he can give me powers. Unfortunately, all he has done in the past few months is test me." I say. 

Never did he once tell me what the tests were about. Sure, those tasks and experiments did help me expand my knowledge and figure out problems more easily than I could have prior to this life, but, really, can that bald freak at least tell me what made me special?

To have been kidnapped and used as a sacrifice for an agonizing ritual of blood of carnage is a humiliation engorging my very essence. My father's hurtful words and actions bear no significance to the pain and powerlessness I experienced that night.

But maybe, just maybe, I could stop being that powerless in this dangerous world. I gazed at the man before me. 

To be a mortal in a godforsaken world. Bruce Wayne's iron will and indomitable tenacity to persevere for the sake of his endless optimism. He… must teach me. 

It might be hard, though. He won't just remove his cover if I just say I know his secret identity. He's going to have some questions. I can't blackmail him too, because, well, he's Batman.

I sniff once more as the thought of myself weirdly staring at the richest man in Gotham while sniffing his car enters my mind. 

Wait. I sniffed the vibrant odor of fresh…

"Lavender." I say after a long time.

Bruce cranes his neck, his thoughts unknown to me, before he responds modestly. "Thank you. It's Le Sthoecas. A unique fragrance from a small village in France. 50 units sold per year."

"I see," I sniff once more before widening my eyes and slowly looking towards him. "Superman smelled nice too…"

Bruce purses his lips as he looks at me like a child lost in his dreams. 

Alright, time for the big guns.

My widened eyes twinkles as a single tear rolls down my left eye, dampening my unblemished skin. "You were there, weren't you, Mr. Wayne?"

Before Bruce or Alfred could answer, I leap from my seat and wrap the billionaire vigilante in a teary embrace.

"T-thank you, sir! For saving me, for allowing me to see my mother again!" My roars of gratitude come out muffled as I hug his torso. Even through layers of fabric, I could feel his rock-hard abs.

To my surprise, Batman lets out a brief chortle and gives me a pat on the head.

I remove myself from him and go back to my seat, wiping away the snot and tears drudging my face. "I-I swear I won't tell anyone that your Superman!"

Alfred nearly steers the car to the curb as he hears my words. His barely contained laughter echoing around the car.

Bruce himself fails to bring words to his mouth and merely sighs. "I guess I forgot that you're still a kid. No matter how smart."

"Would you like to return to Wayne Manor?" Alfred preemptively asks, knowing how his master's mind works half the time.

"Yes. Thank you, Alfred." Bruce hums.

Seeing that I had waded my way in, a smile formed on my face. "Do you guys have butterscotch here?"

Our arrival near the manor consisted of a long, winding country-side road that seemed impossible to get in New Jersey. The manor itself stands as a monolithic testament to the power of the Wayne family.

Although rough around the edges, the estate still holds its grandeur with the help of the freshly cut hedges of various shapes and sizes. 

But what really catches my eyes is a young–maybe 10 or 11-year-old–boy holding a wooden baton, running and jumping about like an energetic toddler.

"Is that your son, Bruce?" I ask, but find him glaring at me. "Mr. Wayne."

A smirk appears on his face as he answers. "That is my ward. Richard Grayson. He's… energetic."

"I heard about his family." I lie just as easily as he did, I think. "Is he the only one who survived?"

"He is." Alfred answers for the man as he parks the vehicle at the entrance of the manor. "Now, Young Master Edmund, would you like to extend your condolences and, perhaps, make good friends with the young master Richard while I make your beverages?"

His words are more of an order than an actual request. Still I will be more than happy enough to meet the only comic sidekick to actually come out of his shell and be his own hero.

Leaving Bruce to his brooding and Alfred to his work, I head towards the dark-haired boy who is sweating like a warhorse.

"Morning!" I greet, waving my hand at him. "I'm Edmund."

Richard Grayson looks towards me in full shock, before giving a radiant smile. "Hey! I'm Dick!"

I shake his hands, sweaty and calloused, owing to his years of acrobatic training. Unlike the Nightwing that I know of, Dick is barely ten or eleven years old right now. He had just been adopted by Bruce following the murder of his circus family.

As one of my favorite characters, I did read his own comic collection, so I knew a bit about his abilities. With that in mind, I step closer with a mischievous smile on my face and bring my mouth close to his ears.

Surprisingly, I'm just a bit shorter than him even though there was a two or three-year difference between us

"Did you already figure out Mister Wayne's dark secret?" I whisper conspiratorially. The glint in my eyes is apparent even to him.

His eyes widened, looking back and forth between the manor and the courtyard. He gazes back towards me, eyes twinkling in camaraderie as he whispers back.

"So you know what he does at night, too?"

His question illuminates my eyes. So he already figured out Bruce's secret identity. This must mean he will be training him soon. I need to jump on that occasion.

"Not only that, he also saved me two days ago!" I whispered aloud, pride emanating from my puffed chest.

He pouts in annoyance, muttering about Superman in Gotham. Apparently, he heard about my kidnapping. "Well… he adopted me. Batman is my father!"

I widened my eyes when he said the word 'adopted', clicking my tongue in feign annoyance. "Well, Superman saved me too!"

His mouth went as wide as his eyes. "Whoa! You win!"

I nod, proud of my silly achievement against a ten-year-old boy before inwardly cursing myself.

What the fuck are you doing, Edmund? Getting caught up in Dick's argument!

I chatted with him for a few minutes, asking him about his training and his activities here in Wayne Manor.

After half an hour, Alfred comes out of the backdoor of the manor and calls for us inside.

I hurry along with Dick whose sweaty smell has stuck to his shirt and pants. I try to tell him to change, but the kid is as stubborn as his adopted father.

Bruce Wayne sits at the head of the dining room table, a cup of coffee in front of him. He looks towards us and gives a soft smile, before returning to his normal expression.

"Dick. Take a shower and change your clothes. Get all your dirty clothes in the laundry room."

He admonishes softly, like a good father. Dick nods like a good child, saying goodbye to me before practically leaping away from the room. 

He sure is energetic.

"Take a seat, Edmund." He turns towards me.

I take a seat next to him, smelling his lavender perfume. Before I can say or do anything, a plate of blueberry pancakes appears in front of me, handed silently by Alfred.

The butler had a soft smile on his face as he poured maple syrup atop my stack. He sure does a lot in this house. I wonder what his pay is like.

"Thank you, sir!" I say, much to his delight. His smile widening, before nodding at Bruce and leaving towards the other exit. "What do you want to talk about, Mr. Wayne?"

He began by stating: "So, you know my secret identity."

"Yes, sir. I promise to keep it safe…" I reply, leaving a doubt-filled trail at the end.

"I expect there's a condition on that promise." He knowingly took the bait.

"I-I want… I want you to train me!" I yell, closing my eyes for the full effect. Bruce Wayne has a soft spot for children, opting to take them in and preparing them for a life he himself was not. I intend to take full advantage of that heart of gold.

Bruce humorlessly chortles, before giving an exasperated sigh. "I will think about it."

His words, although brief, were music to my ears. Knowing full well that once Batman sets his eyes on someone, then they will be protected till the day he permanently dies.

I hastily stand from my seat and, for the second time in the row, I hug Batman. 

"Will you ever stop hugging me?" He asks, exasperated.

I reply, "Not until you don't need it."