(Edited with Grammarly on 1/22/2026)
"Good morning, ma'am!"
A chipper and polite voice filled the nearly gray room with a sudden onslaught of color. Drowning out the fatigue and drabness under a single, dazzling smile. Perfectly tweaked and stretched to match the energy brimming out of his bright blue eyes. Strawberry blonde hair lay expertly combed back, leaving loose curls to give them a bouncy appearance. With a thin but strong frame, and standing just tall enough to put them well within the 'average' bracket in terms of height, but from that comforting confidence just emanating from them, they could nearly be called larger than life. They looked young, maybe in their late teens to maybe early twenties, maximum at that.
Wearing a freshly ironed three-piece suit, dark navy in color, with a rather goofy-looking bow-tie to top it all off.
Overall, he appeared friendly and a well-meaning extrovert just trying to uplift everyone else's spirits. As if some sick person got the genius idea to put the mind of a golden retriever into a human body, dress them up, and just sicked them onto the world with no regard for the poor introverts that just wanted to go about their day without having their social batteries drained.
"G-good morning, young man?" The person receiving the full brunt of this living beam of sunshine and rainbows stuttered, their mind not fully connecting the dots from the barely risen sun to the smiling youth that should've just now been getting up for the day. Appearing to be in her late forties, wearing a simple sweater and jeans, she didn't seem the type to be so easily started. From the severe lines around her eyes and mouth, it was clear that a disapproving scowl was her default expression. Probably, she would've had no problem kicking this brat to the curb with clear instructions to only appear before her again after he learned to be a human. Because honestly, who was so chipper at six in the morning? It should've been illegal for anyone to raise their voice above a certain volume before ten at the very least.
But the bribe being waved so tantalizingly under her nose was too much to ignore. Chocolate, bitter and hot. Coffee beans that had to have been picked up from the very Garden of Eden, ground down into a fine and uniform powder by hands that knew no wrong before being brewed into a medium-sized cup of heaven. Way, way better than anything around there. And, besides this already appealing offering, a box of neatly wrapped muffins tickled her senses. Nose flaring, it was far too late.
"Wha-what can I help you with, dear?"
Her nearby coworkers couldn't help, drowsy as they were, but looked over with shocked expressions across their faces. The older woman could feel her cheeks flushing as she felt those eyes penetrate deeply into her back and sides; she knew how they felt about her. Knew how they whispered when they thought she couldn't hear them. They often called her a 'crone', something that had spread amongst the students who treated her like she was going gobble them up or something.
But it wasn't like she was innocent either; she had years to remedy that reputation, but the peace it provided was worth far too much sometimes.
"Well," The cheerful young man looked off to the side for a second, eyes squinting under a more sheepish and boyish smile that spread across his cheeks. "I have a meeting with uh, Mr. Bricker? I'm kinda new in town, but my Ma always told me to never go somewhere without a gift, and I couldn't just bring one for him, that would be terribly impolite and inconsiderate of me! Do you mind if I rest these here?"
"Go right ahead."
"Thank you, ma'am." On the desk, he foisted up two objects. One filled to the brim with a total of six cardboard coffee cups. Appearing thick enough not to just fall apart at the touch and lids properly sealed. In the middle of that crate, a small cup filled with packs of sugar and small containers of creamer. "I wasn't too sure what you folks liked, so I thought it would be better to let you guys decide! Please, take as much creamer and sugar as you want! And, and! I got these as well!"
Before she could even open her mouth at the kind gesture, the boy's strangely gloved hands motioned theatrically to a somewhat large woven basket. A simple checkered blanket lay on its bottom with a near pile of carefully wrapped muffins. Surrounded first in plastic to separate those with peanuts and wrapped again in a sort of classy pastry paper. From blueberries, to cherry, to banana nut, chocolate chip, and even lemon poppy seeds!
"…" She gulped audibly, nose prickling and stomach perking up to attention. Her eyes were zeroed in on one particular flavor. A lone bran muffin lay nestled next to a blueberry and a chocolate chip. Calling out to her, the desire warred with her own discipline. Banging on her mental doors. She didn't need all this sugar, didn't need that delicious, mouth-watering bundle of wheat mixed with some sort of dark fruit and...applesauce? Oh yeah, there was no way she was going to turn down this treat. She deserved to treat herself every once in a while, besides! This could be her cheat meal for the week! Yeah, yeah, that's right! But before that, she should at least attempt to be professional. Coughing lightly, the woman tried to put on a stern expression before going through the motions. "What's your name, and I'll see if you have an appointment today."
"Pardon me, ma'am! I've been mighty rude!" The blonde shook his head, the image of golden floppy years overlapping over him. Too innocent, too green. This city was going to eat him alive, that she knew. For that was how this damned world worked. She wouldn't be surprised to see him dead-eyed in an alley somewhere with a needle up to the hilt, people standing over him as they passed money from one another before dragging his drug-addled body off somewhere never to be seen again. Whether to have his organs stolen or….
She could barely stop the exhale of relief when he finally continued, allowing that dark vision to fade away just as quickly as it had appeared.
"Robert, Robert Chambers. May I know your name as well, ma'am?"
"Claudia…" She replied, half listening, her long acrylic nails typing away to try and find this so-called appointment. The name didn't sound familiar, nor was there any talk of a meeting with this Chambers. Her boss would've made extra sure to let everyone know if he was being sought out, the self-important prick he was. So with all that said, color her surprised when a scheduled time slot actually popped up. Eyes flicking down to the far left corner, he was even fifteen minutes early. "It looks like you're early; you're not expected for another fifteen minutes. Why don't you take a seat, and I'll call you when he's ready."
Claudia didn't know what exactly, maybe it was her own experience with her boss or how thoroughly she'd scanned over the schedule for the past month, but for some reason or another, that grin felt false. Eyes dull and piercing, and it was like there was some 'thing' wearing the skin of a pleasant young man. Goose flesh bloomed across her arm as she delved deeper into that minutia. Sifting through dull memories and countless hours scrolling through the same documents and forms all day long, she would've noticed this sudden change a week ago. Hell, she would've noticed this a day ago!
There shouldn't have been a sudden change this early in the morning.
All of this was strange, and it made her look at the muffins and coffee under a whole different light. Who was she kidding? Why would anyone just bring gifts like this all of a sudden? She was mature enough to know he wasn't after her body, nor were the other women in that office any better.
"Ah, well." The boy shuffled in place, tugging on the collar to loosen his bow tie. Voice dropping low, he wouldn't quite meet her eyes. "I have a favor to ask of you, if you don't mind?"
There it was. It nearly felt better just knowing that this wasn't just kindness, nor some nefarious plot. This had turned into a simple exchange, and that knowledge unfurled a knot deep within her heart.
"Go on."
"You see, I'm not really from Gotham. I'm actually new here, if that wasn't obvious enough." He tried to chuckle, but it didn't last long under her flat stare, silently prodding him to continue. And he did so, stumbling through. "I'm actually planning on interviewing every head of important infrastructure here in Gotham. The way I'm trying to get them to get me in the door is by making them seem like it's going to be a fluff piece, but I really want to throw a few hardball questions in there, you know what I'm saying? And...this is one of my goes at it. I can imagine they're not going to be too happy about being blindsided like this, but I feel it'll be more genuine this way."
"What...so you're a reporter?" It stunk. This cheery young man no longer appeared to be so innocent. But more human, more complex. "I can't give you access to school files."
"No-no, nothing like that!" He waved his hands emphatically. "Think of me...more as a Seeker."
"Okay, Seeker," If the kid wanted to play make-believe, so be it. It didn't change anything. Reporter, journalist, snoop. They were all the same in the end. "Then what can I do for you?"
"You can imagine that some of these questions might...cause him to get loud. To get angry and maybe even shout. But I just want you not come running."
Surprisingly, just looking the other way was easy to do. She probably wasn't alone in disliking her boss, and if this brat wanted to go around bloodying the noses of people who thought themselves better or above the rest of them, then who was she to stand in his way? Maybe she would've worried more for her job, but really? That man wouldn't fire her. She'd been there for over a decade and personally knew some people higher up than Bricker.
Why shouldn't she screw over that man twice? Getting punched once apparently wasn't enough for him, so maybe this social bludgeoning would do the job. Besides, when had he ever done something as nice as this for them? After all these years, all these budget changes, all that money hadn't gone anywhere but directly into his pocket. There had been no raises, no new coffee machines or amenities added to the staff in years. Hell, they were still using the same microwave from when she first started! The thing barely had the juice to spin or even turn on the inner light! So why not?
"You got yourself a deal depending on one thing."
"What's that?"
"Are those raisins or berries in that bran muffin there?"
***
"Good morning, Mr. Bricker!" Robert smiled widely, carefully maneuvering himself through those doors as he carried a lone piping hot coffee and a single chocolate chip muffin. The rest of the staff had been ravenous, especially after they sat back for a few seconds to allow their matriarch to vet the offering first. But when they didn't see her collapse into a puddle of foamy spit and blood, all that hesitation became nothing more than a distant memory. They'd picked every single morsel free, all avoiding the chocolate chip pastry in readiness for his meeting. "Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me! I brought something for you, please accept it."
"Ah." Mr. Bricker was a large man, but not particularly tall. Extending further on the x-axis, with a head of thinning but finely managed dull blonde hair, parts of it sat rather weirdly on his scalp. Around the crown, the hair didn't quite match the same hue. Just barely blending in with the rest of the crowd. Wearing a simple but finely ironed white buttoned-up shirt, with a navy blue tie done up tightly around the neck and the similarly colored suit jacket hanging off the back of his chair, completed the attire. Honestly, he looked every bit the principal he should've been. Especially with those dark blue eyes that tried to hammer the interloper in place. But they, too, wandered off from him and lay drawn to the offering. Clearing his throat, the man waved them forward. "Yes. Good morning, son. Thanks, I was going out to get some coffee here soon, too."
Snatching the two objects out of the air, the man carefully popped the lip and took a few careful sips. Snatching his lips back each time as the steamy liquid touched him before going back for more. Only after that did he finally look up at the still standing youth, gaze weighing something and eventually coming to a conclusion.
"I'm giving you fifteen minutes." Bricker started, pudgy hands going to begin unwrapping that chocolate pastry. "I don't know what kind of stunt you pulled to get you on the schedule, but you obviously didn't go through me. But since you seem like a sensible young man, I'll humor you. First, what is your name and why are you here?"
"My name is Robert Chambers, Mr. Bricker." The strawberry blonde sat across from him, that same easy-going and open smile stretched in place. "Thank you for giving me this opportunity! I'm planning on putting together a little info piece, primarily about some of the more influential people here in Gotham. Where else would I go first than a school? You're responsible for shaping the minds of these kids and forming them into proper members of society."
"Then why not go to Gotham Academy? That's where all the future decision makers are; it doesn't make much sense to come down here instead."
"Ah, well, Mr. Bricker, I'm not doing a piece on the upper elite even if I wanted to!" Here, he leaned in closer and dropped into a more conspiratorial whisper. "And you probably know better than me how… inhospitable they are to anyone that can't trace their roots to the founding of this city. Outsiders like me would have no chance of even breathing the same air as them!"
"They're not all like that," The man's eyes drifted over to one particular photo, of him shaking hands with one of the biggest wings in that city. "I found a lot of them are just like us, in the end. We act the same to beggars, homeless people, and drug addicts. People we consider 'lower' than us...But even then, I can see what you mean. They're busy people and can't afford to sit around doing nothing for even a fifteen-minute break."
Those were profound words, striking not at the idea of the upper class holding their advantages over the majority of the population but narrowing in directly onto the root of the problem. It's human nature to separate people based on class and to treat those lower on the totem pole than them worse. In the words of a certain philosopher, it was like one giant rat race.
And so, with his profound understanding of human nature, it was too bad that his words rang hollow. Rehearsed and disingenuous. Mere lip service, trying to cover his nose in brown.
"Ah, yes, forgive me. I did not mean to dehumanize them in that way! Let's move past that topic then, if you don't mind?"
"Yes, yes." Bricker waved him on, slurping loudly at the hot beverage. "But just let the record show that I am not a supporter of the way society treats those who've fallen on hard times. In fact, it's something I've been trying to remedy by trying to implement more empathy-based courses that can help the kids break away from that particular pitfall. After all, any one of us could end up at that same position, and wouldn't it be better if we had people willing to help?"
"There are programs like that here?"
Robert widened his eyes theatrically, silently egging the speaker on. Notebook in hand, already scribbling everything down like it was pure gospel.
"No, sadly not." The principal shook his head dejectedly. "It's primarily just a proposal for now; the board won't allocate enough resources for me to get that project off the ground. I feel like they need public attention on this before they're moved to anything concrete."
What he wanted was loud and clear, and it was something that the young man wanted as well. A smile, real this time, tugged at his lips.
"I will make sure the whole city knows, and who knows, maybe it might even draw national attention!"
"Dreaming is nice, isn't it?"
"Indeed." He nodded, easily moving past the jab to begin scribbling down more stuff in his small notebook. "But I feel like there needs to be a face attached to this...movement. Why don't we come back to this and focus more on you, the person? Who is Mr. Bricker? How did you come to be in this position, and besides your groundbreaking proposal, what does the future look like in your eyes?"
"My full name is Johnathon Bricker, born and raised in Gotham. Grew up in a working-class family, making by but we always had enough to afford the occasional treat-"
And on he went, speaking highly of his successes and breezing past his failures with the grace of a well-seasoned politician. Painting himself as a paragon of hard work and kindness. Starting as a simple mail-room sorter before rising through the ranks as an assistant teacher, to verbally fighting with his overseer when they'd treated a student wrongly, to being fired, and delving into the field with gusto. Spoke of his friends and professors that pushed him along the line, to falling in love with a woman so much more above him, and working hard to stand side by side with her. From earning his degree under the tutelage of the same teacher who had scorned him so, to teaching his first class and becoming akin to a fish in water as he expertly rose in importance. Spoke of how when he'd made seniority and could finally breathe easy as his rivals could no longer touch him without due course, he had his child with the very woman he loved and married.
If anything, it was a purely one-sided conversation. With him using inflated tales to brag endlessly, morphing his story into something spoken of only in legends. Like he'd become a folk hero.
Maybe there was some truth hidden amongst the forest of lies, but trying to untangle the two would be an effort taking a few months or years. Requiring hovering over every single statement and tracking it back to all those who were present at the time. Cutting out those that had been paid off or dead, it left an incredibly flimsy trail.
"-at's how I'm here now." Johnathan looked incredibly proud of himself, not even appearing the least bit embarrassed to be responsible for talking for nearly...twenty minutes, just talking strictly about himself. A thick-skinned man, it seemed. His own eyes flickered up to the overhead clock and back down to the now thoroughly emptied cup and the makeshift plate filled with crumbs. "Ah, it appears we went overboard...But I can spare a few more minutes for questions."
"Thank you!" Robert paused in his scribbling, flipping through the now thoroughly full notebook before stopping on a single page. "I just have a couple closing questions, and I'll be out of your hair! First...I have to ask, I now know that you initially went into this field out of spite of your mentor and stayed because of your passion, but I must ask, what's kept you going for so long? Passion can only keep you running for so long."
"Perfect question, Mr. Chambers!" Now, the man looked positively jolly. Chuckling loudly in delight, "There's no secret! Just pure dedication! I want to see my students flourish under my care. If my actions can even slightly positively affect the future generations, then I consider that a job well done!"
"You're truly a role model for us all!" His voice stayed cheerful, using the notebook to obscure his face. "Then here goes my next question! This one's going to be quite tough!"
"I'm ready for it, son."
Like a king luxuriating in his victory, drinking in the praise from his subjects. Never quite seeing the smiling jester inching closer with a stiletto hidden just within their puffy sleeves.
"You asked for it, how can you afford the nice car outside?"
"That wasn't such a hard-" Bricker's voice petered out, mind not fully comprehending the sudden turn. "W-what?!"
"Oh, excuse me, I'm just wondering how someone who makes less than eighty thousand a year can afford a limited edition luxury car that costs at least two million dollars?"
"How-"
"Oh, is that question too difficult?" Theatrically, he began to flip a few pages forward before continuing his onslaught. "Then answer me this: how is it that you can afford to own a house in Gotham's higher-end neighborhoods? I can understand paying a mortgage, but outright buying it? What about your beach house? Or you're multiple collector motorcycles?"
"You're talking nonsense!" Now, the pudgy man was up on his feet. Leaning heavily on the desk to try and loom over the still obscure young man. Teeth bare, face tinging red with undisguised wrath. "This interview is over! Leave, immediately!"
"Ah, I know why!" Here, Robert dropped the notebook and locked gazes with the furious man. Cold, artificial blue clashed with a smoldering azure that threatened to burn the whole world down. Whatever the man saw, it forced him to shut his mouth shut with an audible click. "Basic misappropriation of funds. That budget you mentioned? I saw some of the figures; you could've easily afforded the programs you were preaching about. But who was going to miss a couple of tens of thousands of dollars going missing somewhere? In the grand bucket, it could be classified as a rounding error… Or at least that's what you thought, why else would you have board directors breathing down your neck? They didn't even push that hard, just asking you why none of the staff here have received a raise since a year after you started? Or the status of that proposed program?"
"…" He didn't say anything and instead sat back fully in his chair, eyeing the viper across from him with pure venom. They both knew he was cornered like a rat, knew it was time to see exactly how hard he could be pushed before biting back. "What do you want?"
"I want plenty of things, but I want the surveillance footage from half a year ago?"
"Impossible." The man scoffed, straightening his spine a bit as the first bit of leverage presented itself. "Even if something was interesting on there, I can't hand over that footage without a warrant, and you don't look like the polic-"
Quick as lightning, something gray and metallic flashed through the air. Missing the pudgy man altogether, but stabbing clean through a nearby pile of papers. The previously cheerful young man was now up on his feet, nearly frothing at the mouth as he loomed over the principal. Veins bulged along his neck as he hissed out a command.
"Don't play dumb with me! A little girl was kidnapped that day, from this school, and the only thing that can identify the kidnappers is on those tapes...but you already know that, don't you?"
"Look, boy." Instead of appearing intimidated in the slightest, he only blandly looked at the pocket knife sticking out of a poor pile of documents. Completely unfazed by the unsaid threat. "It doesn't matter how much you try to...muscle. You're way out of this. There is no way I will ever give that tape. Police have already looked through everything and found nothing strange...now, why don't you go back to your mother and disappoint her further."
Robert didn't lash out, nor did he do anything but pause in place before that furious expression was wiped away just as easily as rain washing away dirt. And in just a blink of an eye, a blank mask slid in place. A chilling thing that would've reminded people of marble if not for the clear fleshy appearance. Just as easily, he slid the pocket knife out and put it away in his inner pocket.
"You Gothamites are all the same." He slid back into his own seat, leaning back and crossing his legs. "You're all just so accustomed to physical threat that you've grown numb to someone waving a knife in your face. From what I've seen, you people would rather try to beat a mugger to half death and mug them in turn than allow yourselves to be robbed...Or in your case, you would rather be punched by a man double your size than allow a scandal of this magnitude to become hot news. No, Johnathan Bricker, you don't fear strong-arming. You would rather be beaten, stabbed, or even shot before you would ever allow yourself to bend. Fine, then be broken instead."
Flipping through his notebook, he paused on a certain page before untapping a heavily folded-up sheet of printer paper. Unfurling it, he didn't even take time to straighten it out before tossing it onto the desk. Despite that, the man showed no reaction. Casually, his eyes roamed over the paper before his skin lost a few shades. Snatching up the manuscript, he ran over it many times before he stuttered out a question.
"H-how?"
"Rather simple," Robert began smoothly, checking under his nails for dirt, but they both knew it was strictly for show. The gloves honestly made the move ridiculous, or maybe spoke of a habit. Who knew? He wasn't going to tell. "I just 'found' it."
What kind of idiot did he look like to explain exactly how he got his hands on this information? Admitting to a crime really wasn't on his docket.
"That's a manuscript of you communicating with a representative from Wayne Corp about a possible grant your school might be eligible for. You sounded quite excited for this, and from what I could see, you have been wheedling them down. You spoke so highly of your school and your dream, your goal to help infuse the youth with something society lacks so much of! Project Empathy, you called it? A grand goal...if only you weren't a product of the same corrupt world you decry so much! But just when they were prepared to hand you five big ones, that darn girl had the nerve to up and disappear! You couldn't allow some snot-nosed brat stop your goals! This money would solve everything! Get those directors off your back while also earning a small bit of change for all your hard work! And from what I can tell, they've already inspected the building at all the repairs you've allowed to stew for years, throwing your poor bosses under the bus! They must be going through some final paperwork before that big check comes swinging in along with all those reporters?... Now I wonder what'll happen once they find out you've been covering up a kidnapping case for half a year now? That money, bye-bye! Your career? Ashes to ashes. And you? Jail time for sure!"
"….Look." Johnathan was really sweating now, loosening his tie to allow some fresh air to help fan away the visible wet spots around his armpits. "I really, really can't help you. I mean it!"
"What a shame." He stood, a forlorn expression in place. "Well, since you can't help me, then I don't see a reason to stay any longer...But I can already imagine this scandal plastered on the news. Principal found collaborating with kidnappers, parents are fearful of who to trust with their children!"
"Wait!" The man scrabbled to his feet, coming around the desk in an attempt to block the young man from leaving. Only stopping himself from forcing the matter when his eyes landed on the clean stab wound in one of the stacks of documents. Gulping loudly, he tried to calm the situation down. "I'm not collaborating or working with ANY kidnappers! I swear that much!… I might've covered up what happened, but I have no connection to these people! They-they actually tried to snatch up my daughter first! Why would I work for someone who tried to kidnap my kid?!"
"Hand over the footage then."
Robert paused, already feeling something queasy bubbling up to the surface.
"I-I-" The man looked away then, shame shadowing his face. "I don't have it! When Candice came to me, I-I panicked! I knew Wayne Corp would pull their support of the grant the moment they knew one of our students went missing, so….I deleted them and just copied over the previous day's footage. Don't look at me like that! Five million could've done a lot of good!"
"For yourself, maybe." He snorted before turning his back on the man altogether. "Goodbye, Johnathan Bricker. I wish I could say it was a pleasure meeting you, but that would be a lie. Unless you have a copy anywhere?"
"No...but wait!" Now, Bricker really did grab at the retreating figure's arm. A look of surprise crossed his face as he probably realized exactly how frail Robert truly was, and a vicious gleam soon took over. Grip tightening like steel clamps, he hissed. "You can't spread this around. I don't know how you got your hands on this information, but if you hand it all over, I will not pursue this further...but don't? And who knows what might happen when you're crossing the street."
"How magnanimous of you, but I think I'll refuse." Robert didn't shake the man's vice-like grip and instead looked him dead in the eye. "If I don't leave this office, some friends of mine will send those emails, along with everything going on here, to every Superintendent, school board member, news station, politician, and police station on this side of the East Coast. It'll be easy to tell where it came from. Now, let go."
Immediately, it was like the man had touched a piping hot iron. Stumbling back, his hip caught on the edge of his desk, and almost instantly, he went crashing to the floor. Looking up, it was like he'd crossed gazes with a monster. Skin paling to the same complexion as paper, sweat dripping down his form.
Robert-no, Albert, barely spared him one last glance before pushing open that door and slipping past the near crowd of secretaries trying to scramble away back to their seats.