Chapter Text
Sunbeams shone through the cracks in the curtains. Creeping up the room as the sun rose, they colored it a golden hue. A peaceful moment, one worthy of a painting. Yet the moment is lost. The door opens, and Daniella marches in, sweating from her early morning workout. Abruptly, the room is engulfed in the full glow of the morning as Daniella yanks the curtains open. The ambiance turns much more hectic, as she swirls around the room, picking up all her necessities to get ready for the day.
She was in, to put it simply, a bad mood. It was August 28th, a Monday, marking the first day of her sophomore year. The fact she was still subjected to attending Gotham High was a mystery unto itself. She knew practically everything her teachers attempted to teach her. If she could, she’d do ‘homeschooling’, and finish off her schooling early. Then she would be able to be the youngest and one of the few of the Waynes to manage to graduate high school. But alas, her father did not agree with her idea.
He desired her to befriend people, and have more aptitude in social situations. A useless hope. Any social skills or connections she could have gained were squashed the moment she realized her classmates were morons. She failed to have much in common with the spoiled children of Gotham’s elite. Her disdain for them has been made clear since elementary school. They didn't seem to particularly like her either, but she supposed she was glad the feeling was mutual.
Basking in the light of the morning, she fought the urge to groan in frustration. Her summer had been perfect. Every day had a new battle, a new injustice to overcome. She felt her skills had sharpened, and her mind cleared. Her father had patted her on the back the evening prior for her growth. Even her relationships arguably improved; she hadn’t had any fights come to blows the entire summer. Three months! That was the longest she had done that for, and in her opinion rather impressive.
Others may argue that was less than impressive. But those others (Drake) were just mindless annoyances in her life. They should just be grateful she hasn't stabbed anyone lately unless they wanted to be, which if that's the case she would be more than happy to break her streak for. It was a miracle she hadn’t punched anyone with how obnoxious her family was. Whatever. Seeing as she was going to once again have to see her classmates, she’d just have to pray she didn’t get into any fights, whether verbal or physical. Her Father was always angry with her when she fought civilians. She’d rather avoid his disappointment more this year.
Sighing, she trudged grudgingly over to her bathroom. Picking up her toothbrush, she had to take a minute to convince herself it wasn't worth it to call in sick on the first day. When she stared in the mirror, she felt a surge of gratitude for her past self. She had taken extra care to avoid any facial injuries the past month or so in preparation for going back to school. Last year, she had been the topic of gossip for the black eye she had gotten from a lucky punch. Somehow people were convinced she was a part of some gang and had been extra jumpy around her. Her siblings had found that extremely amusing. She didn’t share the sentiment; they weren't the ones having their lab partners slowly inching their seats away from them throughout the class period.
Whoever started the rumor had it out for her. It was a dangerous accusation to make in Gotham, one that had gotten many a person shot. She may not be in a gang, but there were people at her school who were involved in criminal activities, whether family-run or not. It had only gotten worse when word got out about how oddly muscular she was for a high school girl. She had felt a tad violated at the idea of her classmates staring at her physique while she changed for PE, as that was the only real time they would have noticed. Hopefully, the gossip would die down, as it was foolish talk. It made everyone give her a second glance, something she preferred to avoid. Despite what some say, she hated being the center of attention and had more introverted tendencies.
Well, this year will be different. She was going to stay under the radar this time.
…
Or as inconspicuous as the daughter of a billionaire can be.
Not very, she surmises, as she closes the bathroom door to shower. No more criminal rumors. That was the goal. Or at least all she could ask for.
* * * * * *
Sitting at the back of her English class, she struggles to stay awake.
New year, same school and classmates. The room she was in seemed to be more dreary than average. Most had some sort of personal twist to them, whether personal choc keys or school-issued posters, but not this one. The more her teacher drones on, the more a buzz fills her thoughts as her eyes try and close. She had strategically chosen a seat in the far corner of the room, away from the main sight of the room. Even with her attempt to be discreet, her hopes of leading an uneventful school life from this point on are ruined by the continuation of the rumors from last year.
What would be an unnoticeable spot is prevented from being so by the many unclaimed seats around her corner, forming a small island around her. Her classmates were akin to unreasonable sheep, blindly following frankly unfounded gossip. It was only her rumored to be in a gang. Not anyone else in her family, just her. The 15-year-old daughter of a billionaire who has absolutely zero need for any sources of income. More proof her classmates were idiots.
Most likely they were just bored and wanted something to talk about. There had been a lack of ‘drama’ at her school, with the grade's most theatrical couple still in a peaceful time. She figured her classmates were getting tired of talking about celebrity drama, and wanted something they could have constant updates on, and make their own discoveries about. It was vital to find out who had started the lie before the press got wind of it. She could only imagine her father's face after seeing his daughter on the front page of a tabloid with the caption “Gotham's Girliest Gang Leader ''.
Not exactly ideal.
Nor were the continued whispers surrounding her as she stared off in class. Straining her ears, she heard mutterings of how she was probably on some sort of substance at the moment. Ridiculous. She would think, after all the parties her classmates had been to, they’d be able to discern if an individual was high or not. Well, they were a bunch of self-absorbed teenagers, all used to daddy's money. Her standards for them would need to be lowered for her sanity. She didn't know how much lower she could put them, though.
“Daniella Wayne?”
She turned her head to the source of the query. Her teacher, Ms. Willis, was staring at her with one eyebrow raised. Daniella already disliked the woman. She was a middle-aged woman with a pointy face, who Daniella thought was holding on to her youth too much with her dyed blonde hair and comically heavy makeup. She looked like she was going to attend one of her father's galas, not teach a lesson on Animal Farm. Already she could tell she was going to be the teacher she would argue the most with this year. And she hadn’t even met all of her teachers.
“Yes?”
The blonde woman pursed her lips.
“I asked if you read the required reading over the summer.”
“I did. Little Women?”
Ms. Willis had a slight frown, seemingly displeased at her response.
“Yes, that’s the one. Do try and pay attention in my class, you will definitely need to in order to pass.”
With that, she turned her attention away from Daniella and back to the rest of the class. Daniella furrowed her brow. Even her teachers thought she was some sort of delinquent. How they believed this with the grades she received was past her. She may skip classes a bit too often, but not enough to where it is suspicious. Well, at least they were less likely to question her when she turned assignments in late. It was a small miracle none of them had reported her to the police from the gossip. The rumors had their advantages and disadvantages.
Still, it was annoying, as the surrounding empty seats made her feel singled out (which she most assuredly was). At least the gossip meant she didn't feel like she was obligated to try to make any friends. She wasn’t exactly interested in interacting with people who thought she was some sort of mob boss. They weren't jumping out of their seats to talk to her, either.
She closed her eyes and slumped into her desk. If she could stay awake in this class, that was all she needed. Suddenly, she opened her eyes again and sat up quickly. Her long dark hair had gotten in her face, and she scowled as she pulled strands out of her mouth. She needed a hair tie. It was probably a bit too long for her position as a vigilante (something she used to chastise Brown about), but she liked how it looked. The day was just not going her way, her hair was not today's problem.
Ridiculous.
SLAM
The low noise of her classmate's chatter ceases, and she flinches at the loud noise. She stares at the doorway, where a lanky, out-of-breath boy stands. On only one of his shoulders is a backpack strap. He was just asking for back problems. She hadn’t seen him before, but from first impressions, her opinion wasn't stellar. He leans to the side of the doorway and pushes stray red hairs out of his face. When he makes eye contact with Ms. Willis, a bright smile overtakes his face.
“Hey, are you Ms. Willis?”
The woman stares at him, appraising him, before a slight frown forms on her lips. She walks swiftly over to the boy, who stands awkwardly in the front of the class.
“That would be me. And who exactly are you?”
The redhead responds with a lazy grin,
“Dalton. Dalton Rios. I was just put on your roster probably, I sorted everything out down at the office before this, and they told me to go here...”
Ms. Willis nods her head slowly, still frowning, and walks to her desk to look at her computer. She lifts it and starts to scroll, clearly reluctantly. Daniella almost laughs at her clear irritation. Ms. Willis was eating this up, Daniella could tell the woman loved being dramatic. When she finally finds whatever she is searching for (her class list, Daniella figures), she lifts her head.
“Yes, you were just added,” She says begrudgingly.
She looks around the desks full of students and slows when she gets to Daniella. Somehow, her frown deepens even further as she gives an unimpressed look to Daniella. Daniella has to fight back a frown herself. Ms. Willis lifts her hand and points over to where Daniella is sitting.
“Well, there are some empty seats by Daniella. Why don’t you sit on her left, since she was paying attention, she should be more than capable of filling you in on what we have been talking about today.”
He follows her gesture and shifts his bag on his back.
“Ok, thanks, ma’am.”
Daniella was trying her hardest not to sneer. Her lonely corner would be interrupted by some new irritating classmate. Her displeasure only deepened as the boy made his way through the filled desks, smiling charmingly at his new classmates while he walked. She tried to ignore him when he sat down beside her, throwing his backpack down. It was hard to do, as when he finished settling in, he turned his head to her. She wasn't interested in talking. The boy, Rios, would soon wish he was sitting anywhere but there. No one liked the idea of being friends with the criminal.
He had not yet been made aware of the rumors, as he grinned at her without any malice.
“Hey, I don’t know if you were listening, but I’m Dalton, Dalton Rios. You’re Daniella, right?”
She looked at him apathetically.
“Yes, that is correct.”
She replied dryly, trying to give him the hint that neither she nor he should want him to talk with her. He did not seem to pick up on it, or if he did was not bothered by her feelings.
“Daniella, like Daniella Wayne?”
“That is me.”
Her father's notoriety clearly had reached him. He nodded his head, finally quieting, before asking,
“What’s up with all the empty seats here? You’d think there wouldn’t be this many in one spot.”
Twirling her pencil in her hand, she huffed.
“Well, one would think no one would be dumb enough to believe I’m in a gang, but our classmates always manage to surprise me.”
He stared at her, clearly at a bit of a loss for words. The stare he gave her was one a person would give to someone dancing while screaming in the middle of a street. Good, maybe he wouldn’t bother her if he thought she was crazy.
Her hopes were nipped in the bud when he began asking questions.
“They what? Why? Did you kill someone or something? Rob a bank? Bomb a locker-”
He continued to speak, listing off more outlandish reasons for her reputation. He seemed to get some pleasure at imagining why people assumed she was involved in organized crime. She raised an eyebrow at his outburst and noticed Ms. Willis glaring at them from over her computer at her desk. She shushed him.
“Shut. Up. We’re going to get kicked out if you don't stop-”
She was interrupted again as he continued rattling off ideas.
“Sic a dog on someone? Steal your math teacher's car? I had a kid at my old school do that, he wanted to run away to the airport and elope with some girl. Did you elope with some mafia dude? What about-”
No way was she getting sent to the principal's office on her first day back to school. Her siblings would never let her forget that. She kicked him hard, enough to get him to stop talking.
“OW! What’d I say?”
“It wasn’t what you were saying, but how loud you were. She was about to yell at us.”
Daniella hisses, while quickly gesturing towards Ms. Willis.
He looks over at her dumbly, before sheepishly smiling.
“Sorry, sorry. It's just… are you for real? Everyone thinks Daniella Wayne is in a gang? Daughter of Bruce Wayne, Daniella Wayne? That's crazy…”
He says, trying not to laugh at her. She rolls her eyes. She did not find this nearly as amusing as he seemed to.
“Yes, as I said, they aren’t very smart.”
“Who even started that rumor?”
“I’m not exactly sure. Now, can you stop talking to me? Unless you have an important question, I’m not interested in conversation.”
He looks taken aback at her words, before glancing away with an annoyed expression.
“Damn, sorry.”
She felt a little bad. He was being… sort of friendly, and she had responded with hostility. She reasoned to herself it was for the best. Even if he never believed the gossip, there was no way he would want to be dragged down by her less-than-positive reputation. Her gang allegations were heightened by her history of violence and anger. The anger she had let spill out once more. Still, at least she hadn’t physically fought with anyone yet. Or, at least, had not physically fought with anyone since enrolling in high school.
Dalton had thankfully turned away from her, now conversing with the boy on the other side of him (Luke Fletcher, or something of the like). She tuned out their conversation as she once more closed her eyes. The night prior had had a longer-than-average patrol. A new crime group had sprung up very recently. They had noticed them forming for a few months, but only now had they seemed to have gotten themselves organized. They seemed oddly capable for a relatively new gang. Daniella guessed they finally had decided on a leader, one who was quickly making his mark. Her patrol had run long because of them, as she had been tasked with monitoring their movement around East Gotham.
If she could, she was going to try and sleep through her classes. Last year, her father had gotten angry at her for all the times she had skipped class to sleep in the library and had even threatened to prevent her from patrolling on school nights. After that, any sleep she needed to make up was done on her desk, not on the floor of the non-fiction section. At least the librarian would have a better opinion of her this year. She glanced over to Rios, who was listening intently to whatever Fletcher was whispering into his ear. Rios looked over at her with raised eyebrows. Probably being indoctrinated into the Daniella gang conspiracy.
It was going to be a long day.
* * * * * *
“This is so ridiculous,” she grumbled, standing on the side of a building watching the streets below. The men she was watching had gone down to only two, as three had just left. That was the most exciting thing they had done that entire night. She was close to ripping her hair out.
“Your fault for not doing what you’re told to,” Tim responds over the comm. She can hear the pleased smile in his voice.
Once more, her job was watching the new gang, The Ivories. She had only learned their name that night, after listening in to a conversation between a few of the members. After getting home that day, she had been looking forward to patrol. Letting off steam was just what she needed. Her anticipation was diminished when she was assigned another night of sitting on a building. All because lately, she had been a bit more rebellious during patrols. She sometimes wouldn’t follow all orders and liked to be more reckless. It was only because she was constantly at her wit's end. She was bored, sue her, and wanted to get her energy out.
Drake's words made her fired up, and after making sure her comm’s mic was muted, she let out a string of curses.
“Woah, you trying to copy me? I’m flattered, honestly…”
“Ttt.”
A large figure walked up by her side. Turning her head slightly, she was greeted by the unpleasant sight of her older brother holding a chili dog like it was gold-plated. He pulled his helmet off and put it under his left arm. She rolled her eyes as he grunted as he sat down, and immediately began eating the chili dog.
“Red Hood, what do you want?”
Jason continued eating his food, ignoring the irritation in her voice.
“There’s a real good chili dog stand like a block from here. I needed a place to eat my food. Figured I swing by and take a look at these newbies.”
“Well, there’s not much to report on. They have been standing around like imbeciles for the past two hours.”
“You know why?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t be standing around here anymore.”
He threw his wrapper at her, which she managed to dodge. It could be said she made a… squawk of sorts, but that wasn’t important. Jason laughed at her, and she responded very maturely by sticking out her tongue at him.
He took a large bite out of the chili dog.
“People still think you're in a gang?”
“... Yes, they continue to have the moronic idea that I somehow am involved in a gang.”
“I think you should just own it, you know? Like, get a tattoo and shit. How about one of a tiger with a gun mounted on its back? That’d be badass.”
“If I got a tattoo, I highly doubt my father would approve, or the majority of our family.”
“Wing would probably faint. Actually, that’d be funny as fuck. If you get a tattoo, you have to tell me when you’re gonna tell him, so I can record it.”
“I’ll be sure to keep you updated,” she quipped back, continuing to survey the men from her spot perched on the side of the building. Jason looked down at the men below thoughtfully.
“We need to figure out who the hell their boss is. They could be connected to some other villain around here. Knowing Gotham, they’re planning something fucked up.”
She paused and considered the idea. It wasn’t one she had really thought about, but she supposed seeing as it was Gotham, it was a definite possibility. After a minute, she responded slowly.
“I don’t think any of our major villains are involved. These men have only seemingly sold drugs and ones that aren’t very strong. Villains here tend to be interested in more lucrative businesses and are more flashy. They like being known for what they’re doing. This isn’t exactly the most impressive work.”
“Yeah, that’s true. I don’t know, I just feel like we’re missing something. They’ve been selling stuff for a few months, and definitely are gaining power but very slowly. It feels planned.”
“... Like a front?”
He points at her with a grin.
“Exactly.”
Nodding her head, she starts fiddling with the tools in her holster.
“I’ll bring up the idea to everyone when I get back to the cave. I’m assuming you won’t be joining us.”
“No way in hell,” He responded while taking another bite of his chili dog.
She was glad she and Todd could have a civil conversation now. As she has aged, she has in turn had better relations with the rest of her family. But even with time, there still was tension in the air. They were all too messed up not to be at each other's throats. She learned (through much trial and error) that she just needed to step back when she got too fired up at someone. Now, when she argued with Drake, and they kept pushing each other further, she could recognize she was likely going to be the one to say something truly hurtful. So, in those situations, she would just storm out of the room. Maybe it was immature, but she knew Drake appreciated it at least, even if he didn't say it. That way they could fume and cool off faster, and MUCH less blood was spilled. When she had mentioned her strategy offhand to Richard, he smiled and said, “I think that’s a really good solution for you.” She probably should work on her temper, but for now, the solution was effective in diffusing arguments.
After taking the final bite of his chili dog, much to the disgust of Daniella, Jason licks the remnants off his fingers.
“You’re a pig,” she says to him bluntly.
“Takes one to know one,” he responds, unbothered while standing up and stretching out his limbs.
“How mature. Aren’t you 24? When do you plan on growing up, pray tell?”
“The same day you stop being a brat.”
She glares at him as he pulls on his helmet. He starts walking away across the rooftop, before slowing his pace. He looks over his shoulder at her.
“Have fun doing your little busy work, I’m outta here,” He yells, and hooks down to the alley below. She crosses her arms in annoyance. She knew her father was only having her monitor The Ivories because he was upset with her. Having Todd of all people point that out was frankly insulting, though. The deafening roar of his motorcycle drowned out her thoughts, and she listened as it slowly faded away as he drove.
The way Drake and Todd were looking down on her duty, as Brown often so eloquently put it, pissed her the fuck off. She’ll show them both. She’ll show her father how capable she is. Turning her attention back to the two men, she listens in with a new, heightened focus. They’re both youngish, gruff-looking men. Her job was to watch them until they did something ‘criminal’ as her Father had said. The men had been standing around, clearly bored, for the last 2 hours, and she was so tempted to just jump down and try and interrogate one of them. Unfortunately, that idea wouldn’t be a very good solution in the long term, seeing as if they knew the bats were on their case they’d likely amp up the secrecy.
“When the hell are they showing?” One of the men below asks, a tall man with a large black beard.
“No clue, any minute now probably,” a stocky man answers, puffing on a cigarette.
“Better be, or we’re freezing out here for nothing. I ain't getting paid for this crap.”
So they were waiting for someone, not just loitering. Excitement filled her. Maybe she would get something out of this lead, one her father had assumed was useless. It seemed like it wouldn’t go anywhere. They had learned of it after listening to an especially drunk man rambling in the streets to anyone who would listen how he finally got a gig, and it was one that ‘spelled big bucks for him’. He was suspiciously absent from the small two-man posse hanging out in the alley. If the man hadn’t been exaggerating, something important was going to happen.
Her hopes were answered when a car rolled up by the alley. It was a beat-up gray car, one she wouldn’t give a second glance to if she saw it drive past her. A man exited from the driver's side, and in his hand was a small envelope. She craned her neck to get a better look and got down on her stomach to try and get the best view she could. The man was unremarkable but seemed pretty on edge. He kept looking around as he walked up to the two, mousy thinning hair topping his rather pointy head. When he entered the alley, he walked straight to the two men leaning against the alley wall.
“The moon shines even in smog, doesn’t it?” He says to them nervously, his hand tightening around the letter. They look at him appraisingly, before the stocky man puts out his cigarette on the wall.
“Yeah, freshens the air real nice,” he replies, his open mouth showcasing the many gaps in his smile. Immediately, the man with the letter relaxes and shoves the envelope at the two.
“Take it. You know what your job is,” he says hurriedly, quickly turning away and walking back to his car. He wants nothing to do with the men in the alley. The bearded man sighs and puts his hand on something on his side. Before she can register what is happening, a sharp noise sounds.
BANG
Daniella’s eyes widen as the pointy-headed man falls to the ground. Red pools around him, coating the alley. Dead. The taller man had shot him at point-blank range, right through the heart. She couldn't have saved him from her spot without blowing her cover, and he was most assuredly a criminal of some sort. It was only a consequence of the path he followed that he had met his end in an alleyway.
She told herself this, but the pain in her throat said otherwise. She grew up around death, she knew the scent of it like a child knows their mothers laugh. Yet, she felt guilt swell up inside of her heart. He must have had someone who cared about him. And now he was gone, a corpse in an alleyway. The only ones to see his death were a bunch of murderers, herself included. No one deserved to go out like that. She clenched her fists and watched the two men trudge over to his lifeless body. One eye on the men, she quietly murmurs into her comm, telling Oracle to have the police come to the street address.
The men reach the corpse's side. One bends down next to him, patting his pockets. The other relights a new cigarette, puffing smoke once again into the small alley. The flame is the only thing illuminating the night.
“Where the fuck are they…” the bearded man grumbles while turning the man over, before grinning.
“Bingo,” he exclaims, holding up a pair of keys and a wallet triumphantly. She glares at him from above, a cool fury washing over her. He had no care for the dead. Even when she had assassinated others, she never disrespected the bodies as he did. The man doesn't feel her rage, as he roughly steps on the dead man as he makes his way to the car, the other man following lazily behind.
“We really just gonna leave the body here?” The stocky man asks.
“Al, it's Gotham. What's one more dead? They’ll chalk it up to a mugging or some shit. That's what the wallet is for.”
“Huh, that's why you took it?”
“Nah, I wanted a new watch. Mine broke.”
Al barks out a laugh.
“You’re a piece of shit, Mark. Real piece of work…” He laughs, blowing smoke up above him.
“Well, that’s why I’m in the job. Get in, we need to drop this crap off,” Mark instructs after unlocking the car doors while picking up a metal rod from the alley. He walks over to the front and back of the car, knocking off the license plates and throwing them into a nearby dumpster. Daniella reassesses him after that. He must have some kind of brain in his head to think about the consequences of driving around a stolen car, or at the very least one with a recognizable piece on it. Jason had been right, there was more to this than she had thought. These weren’t newbies but experienced cons. The car pulls away and speeds off into Gotham.
She presses on her comm.
“I got some information.”
* * * * * *
Standing in the Bat cave, she taps her foot impatiently. Besides her, Dick has a stupidly wide grin plastered on his face.
“I didn’t get to ask you, how was your first day back? Any new friends? Favorite teacher? What did you have for lunch? Were you tired? What-” Dick cheerily rambles off questions to her, getting increasingly more bright with each question.
“Richard. How am I supposed to answer any questions if you keep asking them?” She inquired, one eyebrow raised. It was a skill she was especially proud of, as she had inherited it directly from her father, the master of it. Every Wayne kid had been subjected to it after doing something he had deemed ‘foolish’.
Dick answered her with a sheepish smile,
“Sorry, sorry. Uh, how about… any new friends? Or people to talk to?”
“Ttt. My classmates still believe me to be associated with criminal organizations. I have been given a wide berth at school, similar to last year.”
“Still? I mean, there were rumors about me in school, but they never lasted this long. Really, no one who doesn’t believe it? What about new kids?”
She crossed her arms.
“Well, there is one new boy in my English class. I would guess he just moved here and was told to sit next to me. He at least didn’t stare at me like I had three eyes, unlike others.”
Dick smiled.
“Hey, that’s a start! You should try and befriend him!”
“Do you truly think he will not be made aware of the gossip? In no world will he so much as look at me tomorrow,” She scoffed. He was always so optimistic, she was almost jealous. Maybe if she had a more positive outlook, people would never guess her to be a criminal. It was too late to change that, though, she figured, and she had no intention of changing herself for a bunch of ignorant high schoolers. Only three more years, and she would never look at another one of them again.
“Well… I guess it's not all bad. At least no one's gonna mess with you!”
“... I didn't consider that. Yes, I suppose that is true, there has been much less harassment ever since the hoax started.”
“Dani, you were getting harassed?” Dick asks her, with what she saw as an oddly unhappy tone.
“Richard, I am the daughter of Bruce Wayne. It does not exactly aid me in staying low-profile.”
“That doesn’t mean people should be harassing you,” He counters gently.
Always a sap. She huffs, and turns toward the med room, where Tim finally emerges from, sporting a new bandage on his arm from a knife wound. She stares at him unimpressed as he walks over, somehow already holding a coffee mug even though he hasn't left the cave yet. He yawned with a hand over his mouth and pushed his sweaty hair out of his face.
“Where’s Bruce, didn’t he want to debrief?”
Right on cue, her father walks in, with a bubbly blonde trailing behind.
“Yes, I did,” He rumbles, walking up to the computer.
The room seems to darken with his presence. He stands in front of the computer chair and turns to the group. Daniella stands on the far left, with Dick, Steph and Tim standing off to the other side. He starts to rattle off reports in a monotone voice, asking them about their own missions. The rest had actually gone out and patrolled, and were detailing all the crimes they had stopped. They even talked about a drug bust they did together, one she was unaware was happening that night. She was probably not told, as she would have tried and joined them. They had used a different comm channel than her own that night. That at least explained why it had been eerily silent the whole night, only interrupted by the occasional anecdote from Dick or Steph.
Her attention waned as she thought about what the next day had in store for her. School. More people would be talking about her behind her back. Literally. They would gossip about her in clear earshot, earshot for even someone who wasn’t a trained assassin. It was frankly insulting. Likely that was why they did it, to rile her up. Everyone wanted to see her in action. She could drop a pencil in class, and it would get around that she had tried to throw a grenade in the cafeteria. It was no surprise she was not looking forward to the next day.
“Daniella.”
Her father's gruff voice startled her from her thoughts. She blinked and saw everyone staring at her expectantly.
“Yes?”
“You had said you had gotten some information?”
She blushed, embarrassed at her inattentiveness. Steph and Tim snickered at her, and she gave a sharp glare to both of them.
“Yes I did,” she replies, refocusing, and proceeds to describe the scene she had witnessed, all of them wincing when she mentioned the shooting.
After finishing her recounting, Tim rubs his chin in deep thought.
“... I think you’re right, there’s something more going on here, clearly. Novice gangs don’t really use code phrases and take out the middleman like that. They usually can’t waste members so freely.”
Her father nods his head in agreement.
“Daniella, I have more tips on where The Ivories are supposed to be meeting. You’re going to be watching them for the foreseeable future until we find out what they’re planning.”
“Father, that is a waste of my time. It was a fluke that anything happened this time. I could be out there saving people's lives.”
“This isn’t up for discussion.”
“This is ridiculous and unfair. And you know it too! You’re only making me do it because I just have to sit there. No one else has to! We wouldn't even care about them if you weren’t trying to punish me!”
“Everyone else has earned my trust. You’ve lost it, again.”
“Just let me prove that I-”
“I have told you before-”
“There’s no reason-”
“Daniella-”
“It’s a fool's errand, why-”
“DANIELLA-”
“If you would just TRUST me-”
She was firmly interrupted by her father's harsh words.
“Daniella, a man died on your watch today. You might not have been able to stop it, but how can you expect me to trust you after that? I have told you, time after time. Earn my trust, don’t break it any more than you already have.”
The others had watched their back and forth like it was a tennis match, their eyes widening more with each response. She could tell just from a glance at Dicks face, he was thinking about interjecting. Her stance stiffened at the finality in her father's tone. She felt her eyes dampen, and she quickly rubbed them dry. Her father looks at her with dissatisfaction, frustration pouring out of him. His disappointment made her curl into herself. She hadn’t physically fought with anyone in months, but verbal fights…
She hadn’t stopped all of those.
“FINE. I WILL!” She screams, before running out of the room like a coward. She did that every fight. Childish. She felt even worse when she heard Dick yelling at her to come back, to talk things through.
She ignored her tumultuous thoughts as she sprinted up the manor's many stairs, and finally darted into her room, panting. Her door shook with the force she used to slam it shut, and she quickly locked it. Her breaths were heavy and harsh, and she groaned while dragging her hands down her face. What a way to start her school year. She would be lucky if she could even patrol the next day…
Flopping onto her bed, she sighed. New year, same old Daniella.
The day she changed was the day hell would freeze over.
A memory shot into her head. Suddenly she sat up, a reaffirmed smile creeping up her face. She had remembered the promise she had made to herself. If she were to be assigned a pointless job, she would make it important. The information she was going to find out would be indispensable. No one was going to make a fool out of her. Daniella Wayne was no joke, she was always all in.
* * * * *
In a warehouse somewhere in Gotham, a man sat comfortably in a chair, surveying the work in front of him. The smell of cigarettes lingered in the air as he held the letter up to his eye. He pulled out his knife, and effortlessly cut through the top of the envelope. Pulling out the contents, his eyes gleamed as he read the words written. A low laugh escaped him, and he put his knife back in his pocket. He was going to make a name for himself in Gotham, and no one was getting in his way to the top. The money he was going to make would put him on the map.
The letter told him exactly as he hoped.
Pausing his thoughts, he remembered what he had found out only that same day.
Daniella Wayne, is involved in Gotham’s organized crime, eh?
He stood up from his chair and started out the window. The night was dark, the stars not even visible with Gotham's smog. Yet it was his home.
He smiled at the idea.
His laughs echoed throughout the warehouse.