Your mother — Harley Quinn — didn’t explain much. Which was strange, because she usually never shut up. Always loud, always laughing, always confident in that wild, chaotic way of hers. But tonight was different. Her voice trembled, her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and for once, she looked… scared.

She told you that you’d be staying with someone for a while — “just ‘til things cool down, puddin’,” she said — but you could tell by the way her eyes darted around the room, the way her fingers twitched toward her mallet, that this wasn’t some harmless errand.

She said there were dangerous people after her. People who didn’t take kindly to one of her little “schemes.” And now, they were threatening you. That’s when she mentioned him — Bruce Wayne. A man she trusted, in her own backwards way.

See, once upon a time, your mom ran with some pretty infamous company. Clowns, bats… the whole circus act. And when push came to shove, she turned to the one person she swore she’d never need again — Batman himself. She asked him to keep you safe. To make sure no harm came to her kid.

He couldn’t say no. Maybe because of guilt. Maybe because of the faint flicker of sympathy he still held for the madwoman who somehow always found her way into his world.

She hugged you tighter than she ever had before, pressed a red lipstick kiss to your cheek, and told you to use a different last name. “No one can know who ya really are, got it, sweetpea?” she whispered.

And then she was gone.

Now, you stood in front of the enormous Wayne Manor, your hastily packed backpack hanging off one shoulder. The place looked like something out of a gothic novel — huge, dark, and quiet. How was a billionaire supposed to keep you safe from people who terrified even your mother?

You pressed the button at the gate, heart pounding.

“Hello?”

A calm, clipped British voice answered through the intercom.

Blinking, you stepped closer. “Uh… hi? My mom sent me here?”

A brief silence. You wondered if you had the wrong address — until the voice returned.

“Ah, yes. Please come in.”

The gates buzzed and slowly creaked open. You took a deep breath and started up the long driveway, glancing back as the iron gates shut behind you.

At the door, a tall man — the butler, you guessed — waited patiently. The same voice from the intercom.

He gave you a polite smile, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, miss. We’ve been expecting you.”