Friday, June 15th, 2012, 11:45 PM
Diamond District
First National Bank Rooftop
Batman stood on the edge of the roof, cape whipping in the wind as he surveyed the scene below. The bank looked untouched from the outside. No broken windows, no damaged doors, no signs of forced entry whatsoever.
Which made the missing three million dollars from the vault all the more impressive.
"Admiring the handiwork?"
Selina's voice came from behind him, smoky and amused. Batman didn't turn around. He'd known she was there for the past five minutes, watching him examine her latest job.
"Creative approach," he said. "Thermal lance through the basement floor. Bypassed every security system in the building by never actually entering the building."
"You sound impressed."
"I sound concerned." Batman finally turned to face her. Selina perched on an air conditioning unit like she owned the place, still in full Catwoman gear. "This isn't your usual style."
"Maybe I'm evolving."
"Or maybe someone's teaching you new tricks."
Selina's smile was all teeth and no warmth. "Jealous, Bruce? Worried someone else is contributing to my continuing education?"
"I'm worried you're getting reckless. A thermal lance generates enough heat to be detected from orbit. GCPD's going to upgrade their monitoring equipment, which makes everyone's life more difficult."
"Then everyone will have to get more creative."
Batman studied her face, looking for tells. Selina was confident, more so than usual. Like she had access to information or resources that gave her an edge she hadn't possessed before.
"How old is he?"
The question hit its mark. Selina's smile faltered for just a split second before returning full force.
"Who?"
"Your apprentice. The one who planned this job."
"What makes you think I didn't plan it myself?"
"Because I've studied your methodology for years. You're elegant, efficient, personally involved. This job was clinical. Analytical. Someone approached it like a math problem instead of an art form."
Selina was quiet for a moment, processing how much Batman had deduced from the crime scene alone.
"Hypothetically," she said, "if I were training someone, what would that matter to you?"
"You are. Cut the crap, it would matter because Gotham doesn't need more criminals. It needs fewer."
"And what if this hypothetical person was already a criminal before I found him? What if I'm just teaching him to be a better one?"
"That's not an improvement."
"Isn't it?" Selina stood up, moving to the edge of the roof. "Better criminals are more discriminating about their targets. They think strategically instead of emotionally. They solve problems instead of creating chaos."
"They're still criminals."
"So are you, technically. Breaking and entering, assault, unlawful surveillance. The only difference between us is that you've convinced yourself your crimes serve a higher purpose."
Batman felt the familiar frustration that came with arguing moral philosophy with Selina Kyle. She had a talent for finding the contradictions in his position and exploiting them ruthlessly.
"How old?" he asked again.
"Old enough to make his own choices."
"You said that the last time I asked,"
"Then don't ask the same questions over and over." Selina prepared to leave, then paused. "But Bruce? If you're smart, you'll stay away from him. He's not like the strays you usually collect."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means he doesn't need saving. And he sure as hell doesn't need a father figure." Selina's smile was sharp as broken glass. "He's already got everything he needs."
And then she was gone, vanishing into the maze of fire escapes and shadows that was her domain. Batman stood alone on the rooftop, processing the conversation and not liking any of the conclusions he was reaching.
Saturday, June 16th, 2012, 10:30 AM
Wayne Manor
Bruce's Study
Bruce Wayne sat behind his mahogany desk, reviewing scholarship applications with the kind of attention most people reserved for tax audits. The Wayne Foundation received thousands of applications every year. Most were qualified, many were exceptional, a few were genuinely impressive.
But one file had caught his attention for all the wrong reasons.
"Malik Robinson," Bruce murmured, reading the application for the third time. "Perfect grades, exceptional test scores, research published in academic journals. Professors describe him as brilliant, dedicated, mature beyond his years."
All impressive credentials. The kind of academic record that usually guaranteed acceptance into the program.
Except "Malik Robinson" wasn't his real name.
Bruce had run the application through every database he could access. Social security number was legitimate, birth certificate was genuine, academic records were flawless. But something about the identity felt constructed, too perfect in ways that suggested professional work.
The photograph showed a young man with dark hair and intelligent eyes that seemed older than his seventeen years. Handsome in a way that would make him memorable, but not distinctive enough to stand out in a crowd. The kind of face that could blend in anywhere while attracting just enough attention to be useful.
Bruce pulled up the surveillance footage from Malik's scholarship interview. The kid had performed perfectly, giving exactly the right answers to every question. But there was something in his body language, a controlled awareness that suggested he was analyzing the interviewers as much as they were evaluating him.
Most seventeen-year-olds were nervous during scholarship interviews. This one had seemed like he was conducting a psychological assessment.
"Alfred," Bruce called.
"Yes, Master Bruce?"
"What do you make of this?" Bruce handed over the scholarship file.
Alfred studied the application with the attention of someone who'd spent decades evaluating people for Bruce Wayne. His expression grew increasingly thoughtful as he read.
"Impressive academic credentials," Alfred said finally. "Though I notice his extracurricular activities are somewhat limited."
"No sports, no clubs, no volunteer work. Just academics and what he describes as 'independent research projects.'"
"Rather single-minded for someone his age."
"Or someone with priorities that don't include typical teenage activities." Bruce pulled up more surveillance footage, this time from the Wayne Foundation building's exterior cameras. "Look at this."
The footage showed Malik leaving the building after his interview. But instead of walking to a car or bus stop, he'd simply... disappeared. One moment he was on the sidewalk, the next he was gone. No visible means of transportation, no indication of which direction he'd gone.
"Interesting departure strategy," Alfred observed.
"Someone taught him counter-surveillance techniques. The question is who and why."
Bruce thought about his conversation with Selina the night before. Her apprentice was young, analytical, and trained in skills that most teenagers never encountered. The timing was suspicious, but then again, Bruce had learned not to trust coincidences where Selina Kyle was concerned.
"Should I prepare a background investigation?" Alfred asked.
"Already started one. But I want to meet him first."
"Invite him for a personal interview?"
"Invite him for dinner. Let's see how he handles himself in a social situation."
Alfred nodded approvingly. "Very wise, sir. Often the most revealing conversations happen over a good meal."
Bruce looked at Malik's photograph again, studying those intelligent eyes that seemed to see more than they should. If this was Selina's apprentice, he needed to understand what kind of person she was training. And if it wasn't, he needed to know why a seventeen-year-old had developed the kind of skills that made Batman take notice.
Either way, Malik Robinson was about to get much more attention than he'd bargained for.
Monday, June 18th, 2012, 2:15 PM
Gotham University
Dr. Sanchez's Office
Dr. Helena Sanchez looked up from her computer as Malik knocked on her office door. She'd been expecting this conversation ever since the Wayne Foundation had called asking for additional references.
"Come in, Malik. Congratulations on the scholarship."
"Thank you. Your recommendation probably made the difference."
"Your work made the difference. I just documented what was already obvious." Helena gestured for him to sit down. "Though I have to admit, I'm curious about your plans. Wayne Foundation scholars usually pursue traditional academic paths. Your interests seem more... atypical.."
Malik settled into the chair across from her desk, immediately noticing the new security camera in the corner and the additional locks on her filing cabinets. Dr. Sanchez had been upgrading her operational security lately.
"I believe in applied research," Malik said. "Understanding criminal behavior is only useful if you can do something with that understanding."
"Spoken like someone who's given this considerable thought." Helena pulled out a thick folder from her desk drawer. "Which brings me to an opportunity I'd like to discuss."
"What kind of opportunity?"
"Paid research position. Twenty hours a week, access to police databases and criminal case files. You'd be helping me build psychological profiles of organized crime figures for a project funded by the Department of Justice."
Malik felt his pulse quicken. Legitimate access to law enforcement intelligence was exactly what he'd been hoping to find. The kind of resources that could accelerate everything he'd been working toward.
"What would the work involve?"
"Analyzing criminal behavior patterns, building psychological profiles, identifying organizational structures and power." Helena's voice carried genuine enthusiasm. "Your paper on environmental factors in criminal development caught the attention of some very important people in Washington."
"DOJ wants to understand how criminals think."
"DOJ wants to understand how criminal organizations function. How they recruit, how they maintain loyalty, how they adapt to pressure from law enforcement." Helena leaned forward. "Your analytical framework could help develop more effective strategies for disrupting organized crime."
"When would I start?"
"Immediately, if you're interested. Full security clearance, access to classified databases, the works."
Malik tried to keep his excitement from showing. This was better than he'd dared to hope. Not only would he have access to intelligence about Gotham's criminal organizations, but he'd be getting paid to gather it.
"I'm very interested."
"Excellent. I'll start the paperwork this afternoon." Helena pulled out another file. "In the meantime, I'd like you to review this case study. Tell me what patterns you see."
The file contained intelligence on the Bertinelli crime family. Financial records, surveillance reports, organizational charts, psychological assessments of key figures. The kind of comprehensive intelligence that law enforcement spent years developing.
Malik read through it quickly, within twenty minutes, he'd identified three ways to disrupt their money laundering operation and two potential recruitment targets for law enforcement infiltration.
"Impressive," Helena said, reviewing his notes. "Most impressive.."
"It's just basic analysis."
"No..no, it's more than that. You understand criminal psychology in ways that suggest..." Helena paused, choosing her words carefully. "Personal familiarity with the subject matter of crime."
The comment hung in the air between them. Malik studied Dr. Sanchez's face, wondering how much she'd guessed about his real background.
"I've lived in Gotham my whole life," he said finally. "Criminal behavior isn't exactly a special academic theory when it's happening outside your window."
"True. But your really good at this. You understand how these people think, what motivates them, how they make decisions under pressure."
"Does that bother you?"
"On the contrary. It makes you incredibly valuable for this kind of work." Helena's smile was knowing. "Just remember that understanding criminals and becoming one are two very different things."
"Of course."
But as Malik left her office with a folder full of classified intelligence about Gotham's criminal organizations, he was already thinking about how the information could be used for purposes the Department of Justice definitely hadn't intended.
He could barely contain his smile.
That evening, he sat in Selina's apartment reading through police files and surveillance reports, building comprehensive profiles of every major criminal player in the city. By midnight, he'd identified seventeen different ways to exploit weaknesses in their operations.
The Penguin's organization was more vulnerable than anyone realized. And now Malik had the intelligence resources to prove it.
Oswald Cobblepot had no idea what was coming for him.
"Your time is coming motherfucker..."