Real/Safe Deleted Scenes

Drowning in Dough

A/N: mmkay it's been a hot minute. I'm editing Safe ish at a glacial pace. But I just read a post about Bruce and I have to put my own spin on it. Excerpt above.

Cora pov:

I close my book, soaking up the words on the last page while I lean my head back. It was a beautiful story, and the writing was so intricate. I loved every plot twist, and now I have to go tell Dami every detail!

I jump off my bed with a grin, book in hand so I can show him the pretty cover and the metallic embossing. I stroll down the few feet between our bedroom doors and knock rapidly.

I get no reply.

I creak open the door, calling his name as I peer inside the darkened room.

All I see is shadow and I still hear no response.

He must be training, or spending time with his growing list of pets.

Even I questioned Jerry the Turkey, but neither me nor Bruce could say no to his rare display of puppy dog eyes. He's definitely been taking notes from Titus.

We've talked about what he'll do with his literal barnyard full of animals when we move out. He was dead serious about getting an apartment, specifically to have a floor for his companions. I'm just happy I won't be sleeping next to a cow in my future. Even if Batcow is well trained.

So I wander downstairs and out the back door. I follow the well kept path until I see the barn.

It's a newer addition, and Bruce actually seemed delighted to have it built. He even gave each worker a stack of cash every day they were here. And he pretended not to notice when they took a few extra days on the construction. It's a drop in the bucket to him honestly.

I think he just doesn't know how much money he gives away. It barely makes a dent in his bank account. I once asked Charlotte about his actual net worth. She kept saying zeroes until I had to stop her.

In some ways it made me feel better about staying here. I'm a freeloader and have been for a few years now, but I couldn't financially strain him if I tried.

In other ways I wonder about how he can possibly make that much money. Gothamites aren't known to be rich, unless they crawled on the backs of others to get wealth. Bruce inhereted everything, but sometimes I wonder where it all keeps coming from. He was a millionaire at one point, now he's got billions.

As if my thoughts came to life, I spot Mr. Wayne instead of Damian. He smiles kindly at me. I really don't think he'd do anything illegal, or cruel, just for more money he doesn't need.

"Hey Cora." He pauses. "Something on your mind?" A smile betrays the worry I'm his eyes.

"Nothing major. Just thinking." I shrug. "Whatcha doin?" I peer around him.

"I was looking for a reason to get some contractors here. I was thinking an extension to the barn. Or some new upgrade to the amenities. Honestly I don't know what would cost more." He sighs.

I give him a smirk, crossing my arms while being mindful of my book. "Are you trying to save money, Mr.wayne?" He scoffs.

"God's no. I'm trying to get rid of money." He says, his eyes rolling up to the skies, asking for some sort of help.

"You- I'm sorry what?" I buffer.

"I'm getting rid of my money." He answers, as if that's a totally normal thing to say. "I have more than any person could ever need. But everything I do just, makes more of it! I mean every investment needs capital to work, I didn't realize that throwing capital into things makes even more good investments!" He throws his hands up.

"I suppose?" I say, but he barely seems to hear me. Something a little scary crosses into his features.

"I mean, I funded every charity I could find, I raised wages at every company Wayne Enterprises owns, I poured as much money into Gotham renovation and eco-friendly practices I could. But it all just, makes me more money." Bruce rants.

My eyebrows touch my hairline as my eyes widen. He's not kidding. He's gone insane!

"Can I just, give you some money? Just a million or two?" He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, hiding his salt and pepper stubble.

"No!" I rush to words out. "No way. Mr.Wayne I'm not even legally your child, I don't think you can do that. No bank in their right mind would let you just give me that much money!" I wave my hands in panic.

"Hmm, do you think they'd let me hand out money? Like a free candy dish but with 100$ bills." He muses, fully losing an important part of his sanity.

"Why don't you just give it to your actual children? You have enough of them, you'd think college tuitions alone would have made you a millionaire again." I try to laugh. He looks at me with eyes full of exhaustion and pure, unfiltered hatred.

"Half of them never went to college." He explains slowly, as if he's had this conversation 20 times a day. "And all of them refuse. Jason actively puts money back into his trust fund account!" He yells to the heavens.

"Uuuuuhhhhhmmm...."

"Cora I need to get rid of all this money." His grey eyes snap to mine. I blink.

"Do you know how many homeless people I see on the streets every night? How many starving children and over worked mothers? How many good people who go to dark places just to get by?" He says, getting a bit too close to my face.

"I'm guessing a lot?" I say, inching backward.

"Too many to count." He hisses. "But still I could afford to put every single one of them in a decent house with a full fridge for years. I could even keep the mansion!" He grabs my shoulders, a crazed look in his eyes.

I flinch, and then he's on the ground.

I back away slowly, looking towards the echoing sound of a rifle.

Alfred clicks the safety on, calmly walks over, hoists Mr. Wayne over his shoulder, and nods his head towards me.

"Apologies miss Sanchez. Tax season makes him a tad unhinged." He states beginning to haul Mr.Wayne back toward the manor. I can only nod dumbly.

"Oh, and master Damian is in the cave training Ace and Titus. Have a lovely evening." He calls politely, turning easily with an easy 200 pounds on his elegantly dressed shoulder.

"Thanks?"

This family is so weird, and it's not always the Joker gas and trauma.