Seventeen

The sobbing woman on the news had gained popularity. More often than not, any mention of Joker led to talk of Madeline (though no one knew her name) which led to a clip of the same upset woman who claimed that the poor blond girl in the Joker's grasp was her little baby, her only child, her pride and joy (which was laughable considering even she couldn't tell the media the name of her "poor baby").

So naturally the spontaneous trip to Disney World had reignited talk of Madeline in the news, especially seeing as eye witness Cinderella placed her at the scene. No cameras retained any film of Joker and his crew in the park, but all witnesses pointed to him as the culprit (having his signature crew dressed as a panda, sharks, and a goat preacher on the mission certainly didn't help his case).

The incident was so big, the news was still going on and on about it when everyone arrived back home to the mansion.

A softly crying Cinderella told reporters that the little girl didn't look to be in distress or harmed by Joker, thankfully. She sobbed harder as she confessed that she was afraid that it was too late to save the girl—the girl didn't want to leave Joker. What she didn't say was that Madeline had called the notorious criminal her daddy.

The news had a field day with Cinderella's statement, and just like that, the original sobbing woman was back on. "My poor baby! She doesn't know that she's living with a monster! Will no one save my little girl?"

Joker rolled his eyes as he saw the story starting over when he walked into the living room. He snarled at Cinderella, relieved that Madeline had been taken straight to her room when they got home as she was asleep. I knew I should've just shot that bitch when Maddie wasn't looking.

Surprisingly the clip of the woman claiming to be Madeline's mother was the first that he'd seen. He didn't particularly care about the news, so he had never heard of the woman before. Is she actually Madeline's mom? I thought I'd taken an orphan. Where's this woman been all of Maddie's life? Or even the past two months she's been with me?

He made a note to ask Maddie what she knew about the mystery woman, but resolved to do his own research in the meantime. My ways typically have better results too, or at least more fun.

Even as the little Joker family had arrived home, the Bat was out. After all, night had fallen, and the city was unquestionably his in the cover of darkness. That is, until one of his many adversaries decided to challenge his hold, but they all inevitably lost at some point. But there's always a bigger fish, isn't there? Batman was the bigger fish for now, but that's because a bigger one hadn't been discovered, or rather, hadn't evolved yet. Heroes create villains—or is it the other way around? It's like the relentless chicken and egg situation—which came first? If you're religious, you think the chicken, but how the hell can you relate religion to heroes and villains? Especially in a world where homicidal maniacs like the Joker exist? Technically, didn't God create the devil, seeing as he created everything? So didn't God create villains? Or did he create heroes first? It's all in the eye of the beholder, and sadly most of the people in Gotham probably didn't think too much on religion anymore given the state of their city and the relentless psychopaths constantly dogging it. They were more worried about living through their trip to the grocery store.

Or, in the case of Susan Wainwright, of rising through the social ranks in whatever way she could.

Bruce Wayne and Batman had done their own separate and ability specific research on that social climber on the news, and now it would appear that it was time for the Bat to fly out and collect her statement—forensic evidence if you will.

With darkness as his copilot (besides the loyal butler in his earpiece), he sought out that media famous woman who sobbed so loudly about her precious girl without a name.

Susan Wainwright. A name with little data on the public records. Married once to a Mr. Anthony Wainwright, a marriage that had yielded nothing but the death of the groom approximately a year and a half later by what the autopsy results called a drug overdose, possibly a suicide. They'd had no children together and Susan hadn't remarried after her wealthy husband's 'sudden and tragic death'. Mr. Wainwright had had no other living relations besides Susan, as he was an only child with deceased parents. He had died almost three years from the date Joker looked ol' Suzy up.

There was no other data on Susan, almost as if she hadn't existed before she'd married poor Anthony. Susan's a greedy little bitch, isn't she? J pondered with a grim grin.

You'd think that authorities would be suspicious about her sudden appearance with Wainwright, but no one seemed to question her. To Joker, at least, the situation screamed street rat. Street kids don't matter in Gotham, hence why no one cared about Madeline until she was his. It made perfect sense that Susan probably grew up on the streets, maybe did a bit of prostitution to get money for nice clothes so she could appeal to a wealthier clientele (cough Anthony cough), and got knocked up by some other poor joe blow she'd been seeing in the process, forcing her to stop in her tracks. Too poor to get a proper abortion and not crazy enough to attempt one herself or at the hands of a black market doctor, she had been forced to carry the baby to term, delivering the baby at Gotham General under some false name and then dropping the baby off with its father and disappearing without a trace.

That is, until now. The money must have been running out or something, her spending habits wasting the funds away until she was in a financial crisis. That was why she was finally laying claim to her daughter now. But how did she know it was her daughter if she'd left her without so much as giving her a name to remember her by?

She must have been keeping tabs on the girl and her father, maybe out of guilt, perhaps out of fear that the connection would be made between her and them, but either way, she had to have known that Madeline's biological father had died. And she didn't do anything about it. And that was where Joker drew the line.

It didn't take long for Batman to reach the Wainwright estate. After all, Susan only lived a little ways down the road from Bruce Wayne.

The lights were all off in the house when he arrived. Just how he liked it.

The Dark Knight made short work of coaxing open the French doors leading into the kitchen. He purposefully knocked a ceramic mug off of the granite countertop, sending it crashing to the floor in a cacophony of shattered shards.

Figuring that the noise would be sufficient to rouse Susan and cause her to investigate, Batman slunk back into the shadows and waited.

Susan sat upright in her bed at the distant sound of a crash. Her bedchamber, though on the same side of the house as the kitchen, was a floor above it, muffling the noise slightly.

Immediately frightened at the thought of a burglar in the house—though there was little to steal—she cautiously got out of bed, searching in vain for any kind of weapon. She wished that she'd taken her husband up on going down to the gun range with him before he'd died. The guns had been the first things she'd sold when money got scarce, having haunted her every time she looked at them since Anthony'd passed, as if they were saying, We know what you did.

Left defenseless and terrified, Susan could only hope to get ahold of a frying pan or something once she'd reached the kitchen. If it worked in that Disney movie, surely it will work for me now.

But what good will a frying pan do against the Joker? She couldn't help but think. The possibility that the Joker or his goons could be the ones paying her a midnight visit hadn't crossed her mind until that point. He could feel threatened by my existence, or just annoyed that I'm stealing his spotlight. You never know with that kind of crazy.

She hadn't known where her blond daughter had disappeared to after her private investigator had stumbled upon Peter's solitary corpse in a filthy alley. She figured that her offspring had simply ran off to some other street to live or had possibly died or been kidnapped. Susan hadn't particularly cared about whatever option was chosen as long as no one found out that the girl was hers. She'd expected more from her past lover in all honesty, though Peter had never been the most hardworking person. He'd started out strong, he'd had a job, an apartment, but he quickly fizzled out when he realized that she wasn't coming back. It was almost frustrating to Susan that he only just barely did enough to keep himself and his daughter alive, condemning them to a life on the streets. Susan grew to like Peter's laziness though, because she of all people knew that no one cared about the homeless in Gotham, which meant that no one would ever find out about the two dirty secrets she'd buried in its alleyways.

Around that time funds had gotten so tight she'd had to cancel her private eye, content to leave the situation of her daughter as closed. That is, until the story of the fair hit television. Susan had immediately known that the girl on the stage shown in the clip taken by some shaky bystander on their phone was her child. She'd seen pictures, of course, but she'd never actually met her child. Besides birthing her, that is.

Susan quickly realized her opening and got ahold of the news stations to tell them her story, knowing they'd eat every little bit of it up, even if it wasn't guaranteed to be true. Now she had people paying her to have interviews with her and hear her opinions on the situation, and all she had to do was sit back and tell them the same sob story over and over again until she practically had it memorized. People were hosting benefits for her, raising money for her, and she didn't have to lift a single finger to receive any of it. It was ridiculous to her how gullible people could be. They all believed her story, and she didn't even have to give them a name for the poor girl trapped in the Joker's clutches.

So yeah, the idea that the intruder in her kitchen could be the renowned Clown Prince of Crime terrified the living hell out of Susan Wainwright, and rightfully so.

Susan crept down the stairs carefully, thinking she was being sneaky when in reality her uninvited guest could hear and sense her every move.

The moon shining through the French doors provided just enough light for Susan to see the destroyed mug on the floor, ironically the one that bragged "#1 Wife!"

"Hello?" She called out, making the classic horror movie mistake, though Batman hardly needed it to find her.

"Susan Wainwright," he growled, yanking hard on the twine he'd looped over the hook on her ceiling (the one that was meant to hang plants from) and around her ankles, causing her to be tugged off her feet and dangled upside down just above the floor.

Susan didn't recognize the voice, but she could identify that it wasn't the iconic voice or laugh of the Joker, which caused her immense relief. But she still didn't know who had her.

She swallowed. Hard.

Batman figured that to up his intimidation factor, he oughta step into the light just a little so the social climber could see who she was dealing with, so he stepped just barely forward into the moonlight, casting his own shadow across her face.

"B-Batman," Susan stuttered when she identified her keeper. Definitely not who she'd expected.

"What is the name of your daughter?" He asked straight out. "If she really even is your child."

"I-I don't know," she confessed, lips loose in sheer terror. She knew the Bat's rule, but it didn't make her feel any better. If she wasn't careful, the caped crusader would uncover her three year old action and get her arrested. "I gave her up before she was named."

Batman stopped, puzzled.

"Then why claim her as your daughter now?" He demanded.

"When I had her, I was scared. I left her with her father and took off. I was in a bad place. But I'm better now. And I'm fairly certain that her father is dead. When I saw her on the news, I just knew that she was my daughter. I felt it, you know?" She lied straight through her whitened teeth.

Batman didn't bite.

"Unlikely. I find it much more likely that a social climber like yourself saw the opportunity for advancement and took it, especially considering that your husband's generous inheritance is running out so quickly, huh?" Batman suggested harshly, not at all wrong.

"Fine! I know that the money's going quick, and that's why I claimed her as mine when I did, but I'm not lying when I say that that girl is my daughter," Susan cracked.

"I'd lock your doors from now on, Mrs. Wainwright."

And he was gone, leaving her dangling by her feet in the middle of the kitchen, a batarang by her hands.