The morning light, cool and crisp, streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Bruce’s office at Wayne Industries. He sat at his large, antique desk, a half-empty coffee mug at his side. A stack of Gotham’s major newspapers lay before him, each one’s front page dominated by a photo from the wedding.

The press and media had flooded their stories with images of Gotham’s new First Family, hailing the union as a fairy-tale wedding, and treating them like royalty. Bruce, a rare, open smile on his face, scanned the photos, a sense of profound contentment washing over him.

***

Somewhere across town, in a dilapidated warehouse filled with the decaying bodies of forgotten lives, a television flickered with a static-filled news report. On a grimy table, a handful of newspapers lay scattered. A figure sat hunched over, his focus a blur of manic energy. He watched the news, a lack of caring in his eyes, until a close-up photo flashed on the screen, a full-screen image on the screen. The exact same photo on the front page of one of the newspapers. It was a photo of the new couples’ hands intertwined, complete with rings. His eyes, unblinking and cold, widened as they landed on a small, faint, heart-shaped birthmark just above the knuckle of her ring finger on her left hand.

The Joker’s manic laughter subsided, replaced by a chilling silence as his mind raced. He stared at the photograph, at the undeniable proof of her existence, and a thousand questions swirled in the madness of his brain: How? How could she still be alive? I’ve seen the reports, the news stories about her supposed suicide. How did she pull it off? Who helped her? It couldn’t have been her. The little minx, as brilliant as she is, issn’t capable of such a grand illusion on her own. I should know, she was mine!

The silence was deafening, the henchmen shifting nervously as they waited for their master to speak. The Joker’s eyes, fixed on the newspaper, narrowed with a sudden, violent realization. The answer was right there, staring at him from the page. The rich playboy. The man who had everything.

His smile returned, a slow, cold crescent that sent a shiver down the spines of his men. He looked up from the paper, his eyes alight with a terrifying glee.

“It must have been MISTER Wayne’s money and connections!” he declared, his voice a triumphant, high-pitched shriek. He pulled out his green, chrome revolver with purple grips and, without a moment’s hesitation, shot the television, the screen shattering in a burst of sparks and glass. He turned to his henchmen, the smile growing impossibly wider.

“I will have my revenge, boys!” he shrieked, his voice filled with a mad, gleeful certainty. “We will pay the little traitor a visit! We will take care of that rich husband of hers and that little brat. We will burn the entire thing to the ground!”

The thugs cheered, a wave of chaotic energy filling the room.

***

Unbeknownst to Bruce about the imminent danger he and his family were in, he carried out the day’s business. He sat at his large, immaculate desk, the paperwork of a multi-billion dollar company stacked neatly before him, a stark contrast to the newspapers just 2 hours ago. The joy of the wedding still lingered, a warmth that made the world feel a little brighter.

The intercom on his desk buzzed to life. “Mr. Wayne, your eleven o’clock is here. Ms. Selina Kyle.”

“Please send her in,” Bruce replied, a smile playing on his lips as he stood. A moment later, the office door opened and a striking woman walked in. She had dark black hair that framed a face of classic beauty, and her bright green eyes seemed to take in every detail of the room. She was poised and confident, and her smile, warm and genuine, could indeed melt any man’s heart.

“Miss Kyle,” Bruce said, extending a hand to her. “Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.”

Selina took the chair opposite his desk, placing her portfolio carefully on the floor beside her. She had a college education and was well-experienced in marketing, with an impressive resume and references that had caught the eye of every member of the hiring committee.

“I’m looking for a new marketing director, and I have to say, I was incredibly impressed by your credentials,” Bruce explained, getting right to the point. “Your work at your last company was nothing short of brilliant.”

Selina smiled, a genuine warmth in her green eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne. My focus has always been on telling a brand’s story authentically. Your company’s story, from its founding to its philanthropic work, is one of the most compelling in the world. It doesn’t need to be invented, just communicated effectively.”

Bruce leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. “And what do you think is the biggest challenge in communicating that story?”

“Inconsistency,” she replied without hesitation. “Bruce Wayne is a public figure, a symbol of hope in Gotham. Wayne Industries is a global corporation. Sometimes those two messages don’t align. The perception of the company can be cold, corporate—a stark contrast to the warmth of its CEO. A great marketing director would unify those voices. Make them sound like a single, cohesive promise to the city.”

Bruce’s smile widened. He was clearly impressed by her directness and insight. “That’s a very astute observation, Miss Kyle. So, what’s your first step? Hypothetically.”

“I would start by re-engaging the local community,” she said, her voice filled with a confident passion. “Show them that Wayne Industries isn’t just a faceless entity, but a collection of people who live and work here. From grassroots initiatives to major city projects, we’d make sure the promise is felt on the ground, not just seen in headlines.”

The conversation continued for another twenty minutes, a seamless exchange of ideas that felt more like a collaboration than an interview. Selina’s passion for her work was infectious, and Bruce found himself genuinely enjoying the discussion.

“Thank you, Miss Kyle,” Bruce said as he stood to walk her to the door. “This has been a fascinating conversation. My team and I will be in touch very soon. I have no doubt you’d be a tremendous asset to the company.”

“I appreciate your time, Mr. Wayne,” she said, her smile as charming as when she had arrived. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

As she left, Bruce remained in the doorway for a moment, the faint scent of her perfume still lingering in the air. He couldn’t remember the last time an interview had felt so effortless. A new, pleasant challenge was on the horizon.

On the street outside, Selina raised her hand to hail a cab. Just as a yellow taxi pulled to the curb, her phone buzzed with a new text message.

It was from Bruce: You’re hired! Name your salary. Can you start tomorrow?

Selina smiled.

***

The Joker’s laughter, now a high-pitched cackle that clawed at the silence of the warehouse, rose above the cheers of his goons. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, darted around the grimy space as his plan solidified in his fractured mind. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and unsettling in the sudden lull.

“We will exterminate the Waynes! We will burn their lives and that mansion to the ground and bring my Harley back!” His laughing intensified, bordering on complete hysteria, a sound that promised nothing but pain and chaos.

“She will rue the day she ran away!” he screamed, spittle flying from his lips. His face contorted in a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. “Just wait… just you wait till I get my hands on her! I’ll show her what happens when you betray me! She… will… learn.” He cracked his knuckles again, a sickening grin spreading across his face, the gesture a silent, brutal promise of the lesson he intended to inflict.

***

Hailey nervously approached the reception desk outside Bruce’s office. The building was a hive of controlled, corporate energy, and her presence felt oddly out of place in her current state of mind.

“Is Bruce in?” she asked the receptionist, a young woman with a kind smile.

“Mrs. Wayne, so good to see you,” the receptionist replied warmly. “Mr. Wayne is in. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

She pressed a button on her intercom. “Mr. Wayne, Mrs. Wayne is here to see you.”

Bruce’s voice came through, sounding professional but with a hint of surprise. A midday visit from Hailey was unusual. Still, his response was immediate. “Please send her in.”

Hailey was escorted into his vast office. He stood and greeted her with a warm smile, a tender hug, and a kiss. But the moment he looked at her, he sensed her unease. He gently pulled her closer, his smile replaced with a look of concern.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his thumb stroking her cheek.

“You know how I haven’t been feeling well lately, right?” she began, her voice a little shaky.

He nodded, his concern deepening. “I do. We should have Alfred make you another appointment with the doctor.”

She tried to continue, but her voice caught in her throat. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she couldn’t answer. Bruce immediately pulled her into a tighter embrace, comforting her.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered, holding her close. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together. Always.”

Hailey looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears but a slight smile breaking through. She took a deep breath, not sure how he would react. She leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m pregnant.” Then showed him the home pregnancy test.

Bruce was absolutely stunned. He froze for a moment, his mind struggling to process the words and the test showing “Pregnant”. But a slow, genuine smile began to break across his face, lighting up his eyes.

“Pregnant?” he whispered back.

She nodded, her smile growing as tears of relief finally streamed down her cheeks.

Bruce’s stunned demeanor vanished, replaced by an overwhelming joy. He scooped her up in his arms and twirled her around, his laughter echoing through the vast, quiet office.

“I’m going to be a father?!” he exclaimed, his voice full of disbelief and pure happiness.

Hailey laughed, a joyful sound. “Yes!”

He kissed her deeply, then carefully set her back on her feet. He was practically vibrating with excitement. He turned to his desk, a manic grin on his face, and slammed his hand down on the public address button.

“Attention all employees!” he boomed, his voice crackling through the building’s speakers. “Take the rest of the day off… with pay… that includes you, Mr. Fox… Hailey is pregnant!”

Cheers could be heard through his office door.

***

The Joker’s meticulous plan began with the mundane. He sent one of his more unassuming goons to the Gotham City Courthouse, where a surprisingly small bribe to a clerk secured a faded, decades-old set of blueprints for Wayne Manor. The goon returned, the rolled-up paper clutched in his hand, its simple, architectural lines a sharp contrast to the chaotic madness of the warehouse.

Next, his technical team, a pair of grimy but brilliant hackers, went to work. They successfully breached the outer layers of Wayne Industries’ security, a surprisingly simple task given the company’s focus on external threats rather than internal network integrity. The hackers spent a week sifting through the security logs, pulling every detail on the manor’s surveillance systems, alarm sensors, and patrol routes. They found detailed schematics for the surrounding grounds, the locations of every camera and motion detector, but their search for any hidden passages or reinforced structures came up empty. Joker, of course, hadn’t expected them to find anything of the sort; he knew that if there were secrets in that house, they wouldn’t be logged on a corporate server.

With the blueprints and security data in hand, Joker’s plan moved to its next phase. It was a slow, deliberate infiltration. The contracted grounds keeping company that serviced Wayne Manor was gradually and quietly replaced. Over the course of a few months, a new team of gardeners, landscapers, and maintenance workers—all Joker’s goons in disguise—took up residence on the estate. They were a motley crew of criminals, but under the threat of their boss’s wrath, they were surprisingly disciplined.

Their job was simple: observe and mentally note every detail. They compared the current layout of the grounds to the old blueprints, documenting every new hedge, every relocated statue, and every change in the landscaping. They meticulously tracked the movements of the family, memorizing their routines, their habits, and their patterns of behavior.

All the while, the Joker was patient. He would sit in his grimy hideout, surrounded by the blueprints and security logs, giggling to himself as each new piece of information came in. The Wayne family’s life was a puzzle, and he was taking his time to solve it, savoring every moment. His plan was slowly, deliberately, and with a terrible inevitability, coming together.

© Copyright 2025 J.R. Geiger. All rights reserved.