The warehouse was too quiet. That was Harvey’s first clue.

Two-Face stepped inside, his coat still dusted with alley soot and his scarred side twitching with frustration. His boys had called him back early, babbling about a “high-value asset” they picked up. That usually meant a senator’s idiot nephew or some banker who couldn’t keep his mouth shut-- or celebrity twins, that was always a fun one...

But he wasn’t expecting a child.

“…What the hell is this?” Harvey growled, stepping forward, voice like gravel and thunder. “Tell me you didn’t just grab a random kid off the street.”

One of his lieutenants-- Mickey-- cleared his throat and gestured awkwardly. “Well, uh. Not random... This one’s a Wayne.”

Harvey blinked. Then again.

“A Wayne? You brought me a Wayne?!” He spun on them like a cyclone, hand already reaching for the coin in his pocket. “Do you want The Bat to crash through the ceiling and staple your lungs to the floor?!”

“But boss-- the ransom! The kid's face is all over the papers, we figured-- ”

“You figured wrong,” he snapped, flipping the coin high into the air. It spun a dozen or so times… then landed in his palm.

Heads.

He let out a slow exhale, jaw tight.

Turning back to the kid, Harvey crouched, his half-burnt face settling into something halfway between a grimace and a smile. “…Hey there, kiddo. Sorry ‘bout the welcoming committee. They’ve got the brains of a cracked gumball machine.”

He stood up and barked toward the goons: “Go find some snacks for Christ's sake. And a blanket. Something soft. We’re not monsters.”

Under his breath, he muttered, “Bruce is gonna kill me... If The Bat doesn’t get here first.”