Help Me, Mr Batman

Chapter 8: The Truth Comes Out

Disclaimer: I don’t own the sexy Bruce Wayne, or his alter ego. In addition I own nothing that belongs to him, except his daughter Kayne. She is me, I am her. We are one. So don’t kidnap my soul, savvy?

Bruce hangs up the phone in clear anger and disbelief. His thoughts wander to the problem. Why would Kayne dismiss the chance for him to visit her? What did he do wrong?  He obviously saw nothing wrong in his decision despite Alfred’s warning. Did she seriously take offense to him not visiting earlier?

How could he be so stupid?! Of course she would want him to visit her! She was mauled by a criminal, and left for bed rest for a week already. The pen in his hand is suddenly demolished at his touch. He curses and throws it harshly in the trash along with the towel used to clean up the ink.

The phone rings spontaneously and startles him out of his anger for a few seconds. His hand snaps out, and yanks the phone of the receiver. “Bruce Wayne.” He somewhat barks into the phone.

“Hello Mr Wayne, I am Ms Ellison from the news editorial office. I am the intern to Ms Gleeson. We have some questions for you.” a small, shy voice squeaks back to his demand. He sighs and rubs his face.

“I am sorry Ms Ellison but I would prefer not to answer any question to the media right now, especially at work.” He replies in his over-used happy tone. “This will only take a second out of your lunch, I promise. It is in regards of your rumoured new daughter, uh- Rayne?” she replies in a firmer tone.

“Kayne, her name is Kayne.” He corrects before he could stop himself. “So the rumours are true?” she inquires with sound of typing in the background.

“Well, uh, yes I do indeed have an adopted daughter. We got her less than a month ago.” Bruce answers vaguely. “The rumours have given various ages on how old she is, and the most common is six. Can you confirm that?” Ellison asks with gaining confidence.

“No, she is not six years old.” He simply quips. She pauses in hopes of a better answer afterwards but nothing comes.

“So can you inform us what her actual age is?” she inquires with an edge of irritation. Bruce can’t help in thinking of how much she sounded like Summer Gleeson, her mentor the news reporter. “Well Mr Wayne, aren’t you going to answer?” she pushes again, the irritation quickly spreading from the slight edge.

“My daughter, Kayne is fifteen years old. I will take no more questions today, goodbye Ms Ellison.” He provides before slamming the phone down. Thoughts were practically a blur at this point.

How did they find out about Kayne? What is this going to led to? Knowing Summer Gleeson the news about Kayne Wayne would be out in a matter of an hour. He had to get home before then. Maybe he could fix this situation, claiming it was all a big misunderstanding.

Media is something that Kayne did not need right now. I know they are going to want to see her. They are going to have to deal with what they have. Nothing else is going to get out about Kayne. One look at Kayne and they would rip her apart. She didn’t need that pain.

Bruce groans and rubs his forehead. He rolls the chair around to look outside on Gotham. On special request he had Lucius put in bullet proof glass, just in case. He stares down thoughtfully on Gotham. Things can be fixed, right?

Suddenly movement at the bottom of Wayne building, and it pushed the stress level up even further. There is a mob of people, carrying cameras, recorders, and notepads, all demanding Bruce Wayne.

He growls, and pounds on a certain button on his phone. A crack form on the button that is now stuck deep within the phone. Either way it paged the person he wanted. “Yes, Mr Wayne, how can I help you?” his secretary, Debra, asks curious.