[Rewrite]
"Get in line," Taya's words came out much harsher than she intended, but they seemed to affect her charges, the kids, as they quietly lined up. That was good. Still, the lick of fear that had gathered on one boy's lips gave her a bitter taste, leaving her no heart to scold the few still-murmuring children.
Perhaps sensing her plight, the mute girl, Mira, hushed her fellow kids. She was such a responsible one, intelligent too, and her red eyes were truly charming. Perhaps her voice was the price for all that.
Taya tore her eyes away from them and to the steel-ribbed gate that served as their main entrance, and the portcullis that provided a solid second layer. God knew they needed it in this city.
"Children, be good," she told them as her hands went for the motor control that worked the portcullis. With one press of the switch, the criss-crossed mesh of steel lifted off the ground and out of the crevice of the door frame.
Mira's eyes, unknown to Taya, were fixed on her; those ruby-red eyes tried to glean anything possible from her vantage point. Alas, try as she might, she was not a mind reader, and reading her body language was beyond her. She averted her gaze so as not to be caught. All she could do now was wait.
But the wait hardly lasted a moment. A knock rattled the door. "Ah, he is here," Taya smiled as she reached for the door. The heavy deadbolt slid back and let in the dying sunlight, bathing the children in a golden-orange glow broken only by a man standing in the middle of the doorway.
"Children, meet Bruce Wayne," she said, showing the brightest smile she could.
He walked in with a smile—an implacable one at that—but his eyes only spared the kids a glance before scanning every bit of the room. Mira caught his eyes running over the steel-crossed windows and ventilation shafts, then to the corners, then to... then to them. Anything that could be grasped was devoured: body language, movements, facial expressions, how much of a danger they were, or how much danger they were in. All of it.
Mira felt her spine turn liquid. This was not a man in front of her but a monster—a monster with human skin.
But also an opportunity. An opportunity like nothing before. For all this, the man was not a madman. He had a bleeding heart for children. Maybe, just maybe, she could exploit that?
She forced her back straight and grafted a smile onto her lips. Batman caught that. He did not know what to make of it. The girl was terrified of Bruce Wayne; she followed his gaze, and the trembling in her lips was obvious. Why, though?
"Hello," he said, walking with slow, steady steps to the kids. He bent his knee to bring himself to their level. "How are you guys?" His smile was a charmer's—gentle and bright. His public side was shining through.
"Good," a child jumped in. "Great," another echoed his sentiments. It was a chorus only Mira had yet to sing. Still, it was a chorus at which both adults smiled. "Anything you guys want?" he asked.
He and Mira made eye contact, but she broke it. She needed to look weak, wanting to say something but keeping it boxed in. Sympathy was her sword, her rapier, and she would need to poke a hole in the heart of the Bat and worm her way in.
And sure enough, Batman caught on to her gaze. Her lips sometimes parted and closed, and her eyes switched between her feet and him.
He turned back to look at the caregiver, and she caught his meaning. "The little one is Mira—mute, but very intelligent."
Her words were disproven almost the next second. "I am not mute." Her words caused all eyes to turn to her—the first words out of the girl's lips since she had joined the orphanage.
All according to plan.
"You are powerful, right?" she dribbled out, and his eyes went wide. His tongue was stuck. What was he to say to that? To a child?
Taya moved beside him. She held an astonished expression, but she was moving to separate them—probably to take the girl somewhere and ask a few questions. There was no need for that.
He gestured for her to stop. A frown emerged, but she did. "I am."
"Then..." She paused and glanced over her friends. "Please come with me to my room. I want to—want to show you something. Alone."
The girl could have been an assassin, a poison vector. He shook his head clear of such thoughts. He was dealing with a nine-year-old child; Bruce Wayne was needed, not Batman.
"Well, lead the way, then."
———
——
—
The room, much like the rest of the building, was well protected, if nothing else: an air-flush system grafted onto the vents, steel bars at the windows, and a small fridge to keep canned food.
Now that she looked back at it, pulling her small black-and-red bag from under the bed, it had been a good choice to join this orphanage.
Digging through it, she pulled out two photos: the last belongings of the true Mira Dracena.
A picture of a family of three in a broken home, with forced smiles on the couple.
A picture of Victor Zsasz "liberating" the couple, taken from below a bed.
This was Mira Dracena's story: a poor girl who loved her family, a girl who loved to be happy... Mira couldn't tell anyone anything more about the girl, because she knew nothing more.
Did the girl like chocolate? What was her favourite ice cream flavour? What was her favourite colour? She didn't know. The girl Mira Dracena died somewhere in the streets of Gotham, and that day a new "Mira Dracena" woke up. The real one was no more; no one would even remember the cheery girl. Mira Dracena might as well have never existed.
"...In our city," she said as she handed the "Photo Liberty" to the man. He took it.
"Only men with power can get justice..." Her teeth clenched. "Only their words mean anything." A deep breath. "I... please, you are an orphan too. You know how it feels. Help me get justice."
Batman froze. The girl must have taken the picture while hidden from the madman; she'd watched it happen. "Or help me take it."
He knelt in front of the girl and wrapped her in a hug. His face wore a bitter smile. He did not know; he had not known about this. Maybe it had happened on a day he was not in Gotham? Maybe. "I am sorry."
Her voice was muffled against him, but she contradicted him. "None of it is your fault."
His voice was crumpled. He was Batman; any crime he did not stop he considered his failing, so he mirthlessly repeated, "I am sorry."
She scoffed. "Not your fault. Even if it were, an apology does not bring back my family." She pushed him away, and he let her go. "Will you help me?"
He looked at her. The anger and rage at the man were clear as day, easy to see. She would go after the murderer just as he had after his parents' killer. He could not allow that. So he nodded. "I will."
'So that you don't turn out like me.'
———
——
—
"A sister? With whom? Catwoman? Wonder Woman?" Damian looked up from his tablet and asked as the lean old man Alfred told him the news.
"None, Master Damian. An adoption," he said with peak professionalism.
The spiky-haired teen looked up from his tablet. "Seriously?" Alfred nodded. "She is a nine-year-old child, with a story similar to Master Dick's."
"Oh?" Damian said without much thought. He felt pity for the girl, but these things happened. The League of Shadows had dealt with a lot of death, murder, and assassination, and he was naturally familiar with it. One could only accept it and push past the difficulties. "So why is he accepting her? We cannot take in every crime-made orphan in this city."
"Master Bruce said that she has the will to push past it and become a force for good."
"If he is right."
"He hasn't been wrong yet."
Damian nodded. Alfred was correct; he hadn't been wrong yet—not with Dick, not with Barbara, and not with him. He had made mistakes, but he was not wrong about anyone... mostly anyone.
"Well, tell the rest, then. Oracle is down at the cave," he said as he lay back on the sofa. Maybe she would be fun; who knows? But one thing was for sure: he was not going to let her turn out like the others.
Not like Jason, at least.
[/Rewrite]
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[Orginal]
"He is coming," There were hushed murmurs in the orphanage halls, today someone big was coming, Heylel felt that one would have to be blind to not notice it, they all were given new clothes, and every corner of the building was rinsed twice. They had even demanded extreme decorum from the kids.
And the kids for the most part complied, they had heard how great it would be to have a family from those who had been adopted and came back to visit, especially the rich families.
"Be good kids," The orphanage director, or as they would all call her, Mother said, as she walked up to the main steel reinforced door. It was a funny thing to watch, three steel locks for one door, heck even the windows bristled with crisscrossed steel, and the outer walls were double-layered brick and cement. All of it reminded Heylel of where he was, and how scuffed his situation was. At least he was safe in here, he had always found relief in that idea.
Still, as the heavy door creaked apart, Heylel realized he was holding his breath too, like all his peers. And as the man who was behind the door steeped in, his jaw like all children dropped.
"Children, meet Mr. Bruce Wayne," The director said. She didn't need to introduce him, everyone knew him, from a five-year-old to a fifty, no one didn't know the man who lived the dream of this damn city, the Gotham Dream.
"Hello," He waved with a gentle smile etched onto his lips. Heylel felt a pang of jealousy at the sight of the handsome blue-eyed man with a very broad build, Bruce was handsome, and he? Not even a man, but instead a girl.
'If I could get adopted...' Heylel thought as his mind raced to unearth all the plans he had made in his life for this very moment—the moment when he found himself a good enough parent.
"So, how are you, kids?"
Heylel spoke first, his—no, her voice distinctly sweet, another reminder of this sick joke, "Okay," She said with a lowered head. All eyes turned toward her, the eyes of the director widening, 'Isn't she mute!?'
Bruce noticed he could separate his personas but at the end of the day he was both, and he immediately picked up the surprise from them.
"Hmm?" Bruce arrived in front of them with light feet, bending down he asked, "Not great but okay?" The little girl with the long black tassel much like his own was down, and her lips were constricted, "It's fine," She replied.
"Oh?" Bruce said, his good man–public side, shining through, "Is there anything I can do to make it better? If you kids would like, I can have game stations installed." He asked though he was planning to install them anyway. "Yes!" One kid exclaimed, though Heylel just muttered, "Nothing."
His brows raised as he heard the girl, looking at the girl, he felt a little soft in his heart, she was a beautiful angle, these orphanages, he owned more than ninety per cent of all of them and he wanted to help those like him, it was unacceptable that any child suffered as he had and in this city especially, they needed it, "If you want some—"
"You can't get me a family," She cut him off, "You can't get my family justice. N—" He found himself hugging the girl, she sounded just like someone he knew. Someone extremely similar.
But he didn't know, the frail girl he was holding in his arms, was barely keeping herself from breaking into a grin, 'Success,' she drew parallels between herself and the first robin in his mind, she only needed to say a few words to gain his sympathy.
Though was despicable to manipulate one of the greatest men in this world, she needed it, she was in the world without any discernible power, by all accounts a powerless human, a 'normal' and that would be her doom. But this man was her ticket to power and connections that would keep her safe. Still, it wasn't as if she lied.
"I can get you just—" Again she interjected, "Liar, all of them are dead—I have no one, I will make him pay," She let her voice only falter once, she wanted to show him her willpower.
Again she was at it, he could see his child self in the girl, swearing vengeance...she needed help, he pulled the girl up into his arms he stood up. She had her forehead lodged into his chest as he turned toward the director, "Please bring out the paperwork, I will be taking her."
———
"A sister? With who? Catwoman? Wonder Woman?" Damian looked up from his tablet and asked, as the lean old man Alfred told him the news.
"None, Master Damian, an adoption," He said with peak professionalism.
The spiky-haired teen looked up from his tablet, "Seriously?" Alfred nodded, "She is a child of nine years, a similar story to Master Dick."
"Oh?" Damian said without much mind, he felt pity for the girl, but these things happen, the League of Shadowss had dealt with a lot of death, and he was naturally familiar with it. One can only accept it and push past the difficulties, "So why is he accepting her? We can not take in every crime made orphan in this city."
"Master Bruce said that she has the will to push past and become a force for good."
"If he is right."
"He hasn't been wrong yet."
Damian nodded, Alfred was correct, he hasn't been wrong yet, not with Dick, not with Jason, not with Barbara, and not with him, he had mistakes but he was not wrong about anyone. Jason had suffered but he came back.
"Well, tell the rest then, Oracle is down at the cave," He said as he laid back on the bed, 'maybe a little sister will be fun,' he thought as he pulled up her files.
[/Orginal]