Thursday, May 10th, 2012, 5:45 AM
Robinson Park
Rebecca Martinez's Apartment Building
Malik dropped silently from Rebecca's fire escape onto the adjacent building's rooftop, muscle memory guiding him through movements that had become second nature over the past three years. The morning air was crisp against his skin, carrying the scent of rain and exhaust that meant Gotham was waking up.
He'd left Rebecca sleeping in her bed, dark hair spread across the pillow, looking younger than her eighteen years. They'd been hooking up for months now, ever since she'd kissed him after a particularly intense study group discussion about criminal psychology. Nothing serious, just two teenagers figuring out what bodies were for when textbooks got boring.
The sex was good. More importantly, Rebecca never asked questions about why he sometimes had bruises he couldn't explain, or how he knew so much about police procedures and criminal behavior. She assumed he was just naturally gifted at academic analysis.
If only she knew, both were true.
Malik vaulted across a narrow alley, landed in a roll that absorbed the impact, and kept moving. Three buildings over, across a gap that would have made most people hesitate, then down two fire escapes and across Robinson Park's canopy of early morning joggers and dog walkers.
By six-fifteen, he was slipping through the window of Selina's apartment like he'd never been gone.
"Fun night?" Selina asked from the kitchen, not looking up from her coffee.
"Very." Malik grabbed juice from the fridge, still feeling the pleasant ache of physical exertion. "Rebecca's got some interesting theories about lots of things."
"I'm sure she does."
There was something in Selina's tone that made Malik look at her more carefully. Amusement, maybe, or recognition. Like she understood exactly what kind of education he'd been getting.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just remembering what it was like to be sixteen."
Malik was seventeen now, actually, but he didn't correct her. Time moved differently when you lived multiple lives simultaneously.
"Speaking of education," Selina continued, "there's mail for you on the counter."
The envelope bore the Wayne Foundation logo, thick paper that screamed money and importance. Malik opened it expecting some form letter about scholarship opportunities.
What he found made him sit down hard.
"They want an interview," he said, reading the letter twice to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. "The Wayne Foundation's most prestigious scholarship program. Full ride to any university, plus internship opportunities with Wayne Enterprises."
"Congratulations. Your academic work finally caught someone's attention."
Malik looked at the letter again, processing implications. The Wayne Foundation scholarship was legendary. Full funding for undergraduate and graduate studies, access to Wayne Enterprises' resources, networking opportunities with Gotham's power elite.
More importantly, it would put him inside Bruce Wayne's organization. Close to resources that could accelerate everything he'd been working toward.
"I have to take this," he said.
"Do you?"
Something in Selina's voice made him look up. She was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read. Concern, maybe. Or warning.
"This is Bruce Wayne we're talking about," Malik said. "The resources, the connections, the access to information. Everything I need to really make a difference."
"Bruce Wayne isn't just some philanthropist, Malik."
"I know. He's one of the most powerful men in the city. That's why this matters."
Selina was quiet for a long moment, studying his face like she was seeing something there that worried her.
"Promise me you'll be careful," she said finally. "Powerful people are dangerous to get close to."
"I can handle myself."
"That's what worries me."
Two Weeks Later - Thursday, May 24th, 2012, 2:30 PM
Wayne Foundation Offices
The interview went better than Malik had expected. Three Wayne Foundation board members, asking questions about his academic work, his plans for the future, his thoughts on using privilege responsibly.
He'd given them exactly what they wanted to hear. Passionate but measured responses about social justice and systemic change. Intelligent analysis of Gotham's challenges coupled with realistic proposals for improvement. The kind of idealistic brilliance that made donors feel good about writing checks.
What they didn't know was that he'd researched each of them extensively before the interview. Financial records, family connections, political affiliations. He'd walked into that room knowing exactly how to present himself to appeal to their specific biases and interests.
By the time he left, Malik was confident they'd offer him the scholarship. The question was what he'd do with the access it provided.
That evening, he sat in his room researching Bruce Wayne's business interests, looking for patterns that might reveal useful information. Wayne Enterprises had fingers in everything: technology, aerospace, pharmaceutical research, urban development. The kind of diverse portfolio that suggested either remarkable business acumen or some other agenda entirely.
More interesting were the gaps in Wayne's public schedule. Frequent unexplained absences, particularly during times when Batman was most active. Travel records that didn't quite match his stated business meetings. Security expenses that seemed excessive even for someone of his wealth.
"What are you working on?"
Malik looked up to find Selina standing in his doorway, expression unreadable.
"Research. Trying to understand Wayne Enterprises' organizational structure before I potentially start working there."
Selina's eyes flicked to his computer screen, taking in the windows full of financial records and news articles. "That's a lot of research for an internship application."
"I like to be thorough."
"Thorough is one word for it." Selina stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "Obsessive might be another."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I've seen that look before. The same one you had when you were building your little conspiracy wall about Oswald Cobblepot."
Malik went very still. The Penguin research had been hidden in his closet, behind clothes and books where no one should have found it. Which meant...
"You went through my things."
"I clean your room occasionally. Call it a privilege of providing free housing."
"That was private."
"Private?" Selina's voice carried a dangerous edge. "You've been planning to kill one of Gotham's most powerful crime bosses, and you think privacy is your biggest concern?"
"I wasn't planning to kill him."
"The throwing knife through his photograph suggested otherwise."
They stared at each other for a moment, the careful balance of their relationship suddenly shifting into something more confrontational.
"He's a monster," Malik said finally. "Everything wrong with this city, he's connected to it. Human trafficking, political corruption, drug distribution. How many people have died because Oswald Cobblepot wanted to make a profit?"
"Probably thousands. That doesn't mean you're the one who gets to ice him."
"Why not? Who else is going to? The police he bribes? The politicians he owns? The justice system he's corrupted?"
"Maybe someone with more experience than a seventeen-year-old who thinks he's figured out how the world works."
The words hit like a slap. Malik felt his temper flare, the careful control he'd learned over years of training slipping for just a moment.
"More experience like yours? How's that working out? You've been playing cat and mouse with these people for years, and what's changed? They're still operating, still hurting people, still getting away with it because nobody has the balls to actually stop them."
"Watch yourself."
"Why? Because I'm pointing out that your way isn't working? That all your careful restraint and ethical boundaries haven't actually made Gotham any better?"
Selina moved faster than Malik could react, crossing the room and slamming him against the wall hard enough to rattle his teeth. Her forearm pressed against his throat, not enough to choke him but enough to make breathing difficult.
"You arrogant little shit," she hissed. "You think you've got it all figured out? You think three years of training makes you ready to take on the real monsters in this city?"
Malik tried to push her away, but Selina was stronger and more experienced. All his training meant nothing when she didn't want to let him move.
"Bruce Wayne isn't just some rich philanthropist," Selina continued, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "He's Batman. And if you keep digging into his business with the same obsessive intensity you brought to researching Cobblepot, you're going to attract attention from someone who makes me look like a fucking amateur."
The words hit Malik like ice water. Bruce Wayne was Batman. Of course he was. The timing of Wayne's absences, the security expenses, the technology resources that Wayne Enterprises somehow developed. It was so obvious he felt stupid for not seeing it immediately.
"How long have you known?" he asked.
"Long enough to know that getting too close to him is dangerous." Selina stepped back, releasing the pressure on his throat. "Batman doesn't play by the same rules we do. He's got resources, connections, and a moral code that's both more rigid and more flexible than anything you've encountered."
"So what? I'm supposed to turn down the scholarship because you're afraid of Batman?"
"You're supposed to stop thinking you're smarter than everyone else and start listening when people who care about you try to keep you alive."
Malik rubbed his throat, processing what he'd learned. Bruce Wayne was Batman. The Wayne Foundation scholarship would put him directly in the orbit of Gotham's most dangerous vigilante.
The smart play would be to decline the offer, maintain distance, continue operating in the shadows.
But the resources. The access. The opportunity to learn from someone who'd been fighting Gotham's corruption longer and more effectively than anyone else.
"I'm still taking the scholarship," he said.
Selina looked at him for a long moment, something like disappointment flickering across her features.
"Then you're on your own," she said, and walked out of the room.
Malik stood alone in his bedroom, surrounded by research that had just become infinitely more dangerous and valuable. Bruce Wayne was Batman. The Wayne Foundation scholarship would put him inside the operation of Gotham's greatest vigilante.
He was seventeen years old now, and he was about to either make the smartest move of his life or the last mistake he'd ever get the chance to regret.