Chapter Text
You see that kid sitting in front of the social worker getting his ass chewed out for getting arrested again yeah, that's me.
Hey, names Billy Batson, and I'm what many people would call a troublemaker or delinquent. But instead of me telling you about my whole life as I foster kid, why don't we listen to Mrs. Glover? She's my caseworker. I'm sure she'll sum it up like she always does.
"So Mr. Batson, what did we do this time?"
I rolled my eyes in that way she asked me. She's judging me like all social workers do when they hear about my run in's with the cops.
"Well?" She harshly asked.
"You already know they told you."
"Yes, but I want to hear it from you," She instructed.
I sighed before giving in, "I locked them in a store and borrowed their computer in their car." I refused to make eye contact as I spoke.
"What you need a computer for?" She asked. "Wait. You were looking for your Mom again, weren't you?"
"Yes, she's still out there I know it," I argued.
You see, I've been in foster care ever since I was little. I lost my Mom at a carnival, and I've been looking for her ever since. Everyone tells me I should give up on her because she's given up on me, but I know they're wrong she's out there looking for me I just need to find her.
"Yes, your some detective 34 Batson's between 24 and 40, and you've crossed off every single one," She said, flipping through my notebook.
"She's out there, looking for me. I can't stop looking."
"Mr. Batson, I don't want to be the one to tell you this, but someone needs to," She began. I knew what she was going to say, and I knew I wasn't going to like it.
"Your Mom's probably not even looking it's been ten years, and you still haven't found each other I think it's time for you to face facts and focus on your future."
"My Mom is my future," I argued.
My social worker sighed before standing up and sitting down in front of me on the edge of her desk. "I know you left your last foster home a few weeks ago."
"Wait, you're sending me back?" I questioned worryingly. My last foster home wasn't that great. I won't get into the details, but let's say they shouldn't be allowed to have any foster kids anymore.
"No, they don't want you."
"Harsh," I scoffed.
She gave me a disapproving look after that comment but continued. "So, I found a new foster home for you."
"Oh, did you now? Thanks." I said sarcastically.
Mrs. Glover gave me a pointed and disappointed look.
"Whatever, but I can take care of myself," I argued. I've learned how to survive on my own, and I prefer to be alone anyways.
"Well, the state won't let you so I had no choice and outside, there is a man who works for Bruce Wayne that will be taking you today."
"Wait, my new foster home is with Bruce Wayne? Thee Bruce Wayne?" I asked in shock.
Here in Gotham, Bruce Wayne is famous and somewhat of a celebrity. He owns Wayne enterprise, one of the technology juggernauts of the world, but I've never paid much attention to him, or any celebrity's really, but everyone in Gotham knows who Bruce Wayne is.
"Yes, thee Bruce Wayne." She mocked. "He has fostered a kid before you and would like to take in another."
Really? I doubt the kid lasted long Bruce is probably some stuck up rich guy. I've heard all he does is drink and party with supermodels all night.
Soon our meeting was over, and we were meeting this man that worked for Bruce Wayne. He was a British guy that was extremely high class. He had short hair that was almost as white as snow out on the street.
"Excuse me, are you, Mr. Pennyworth?" Mrs. Glover asked the man.
"Yes. Please call me Alfred," Alfred said, shaking her hand.
"Nice to meet you, Alfred, we spoke on the phone."
"Yes, Master Bruce has expressed interest in fostering another child."
"Yes, and here he is. Meet Mr. William Batson."
"It's Billy," I retorted. Only my social worker and other adults that don't like me call me William.
"Hello mate, I'm Alfred," Alfred said, offering his hand. I stared at it for a second before looking away.
"William!" Mrs. Glover hissed.
I could care less if I upset her because she's not the one living with the man, and I don't touch people, especially when I first meet them.
"It's okay not all lad's have manners right away," Alfred said, eyeing me.
"Right, well, I better let the two of you go. It's getting late."
"Of course," Alfred replied before turning to me. "Follow me, mister Batson."
I followed Alfred out of the building before Mrs. Glover urged me a warning to stay put. "Yeah, right," I thought.
Alfred had ahold of my file and led me out to his car. He opened the back passenger door for me to enter. I stood there like an idiot before sitting down inside the car.
The interior is the nicest of any car I've been in the leather on the seats made the car feel fancy, and I didn't belong anywhere near something fancy.
I know living with Bruce Wayne will be different than any other foster home I've been in, but I don't plan on staying long. I might give him a chance, but I could guarantee that Bruce Wayne is using me for some good publicity so he'll look right to all the rich snobs in Gotham.
We drove through the Narrows, a borough in Gotham where all the homeless and runaway kids lived; it's the worst borough in Gotham, and there is plenty of crime. Trust me, I would know.
Alfred didn't try to talk to me much, but he did glance back at me through his mirror as if he thought I might steal something.
Once we made it out of the city limits, it wasn't long before we made it to the famous Wayne Manor. The Manor is two stories tall, living on a massive property with an impressive garden and fountain in front of the entrance. The mansion sure looked fancy, and unlike any house, I've lived in before.
Alfred parked the car before opening my door and gesturing me out. I stepped out and looked around in awe with how massive the Manor is. I wasn't shaken out of my thoughts until Alfred called my name. "Ready, Mr. Batson."
I nodded before following Alfred inside.
The inside was just as breathtaking as the outdoor portion. The floors and walls looked old as if the house has been up for hundreds of years. On the walls were plenty of old/expensive decorations. There are swords and shields, costly vases, and fancy paintings.
Alfred lead me through the foyer of the Manor before going up the steps to the second floor. We went down a few hallways passing many rooms and more fancy decorations. Eventually, we stopped in a single room.
"Here is where you'll be sleeping, there are new clothes in the dresser and a laundry basket to use when they need to be washed. " Alfred said, opening the drawers showing me the clothes then pointing to the laundry basket.
The clothes were preppy, looking with dress pants and sweater vests as the primary selection of outfits. I'd have to pass a red hoodie is a much better option. And like I said before, these new clothes would make me uncomfortable.
"Dinner will be ready at seven. Any questions?" Alfred asked, standing by the door.
I shook my head no before watching him exit and close the door. For the first time in a few hours, I was alone and gave me some time to think.
I thought I finally found my Mom, and I could have a happy ending, but fate had other ideas. I pulled out my notebook, crossing off Rachel Batson as failed attempt number 34.
Maybe the social worker was right, and I should give up on my Mom, it's been ten years and still nothing. Perhaps I should give up on my search for her?
All the foster homes, all the escape attempts for what to just do it all over again, then look for a woman who I think is my Mom but isn't.
The anger bubbled inside me, and I threw my notebook across the room. I didn't need her. I've been fine all these years, and I'll be fine for the rest. I picked up my notebook and shoved it back in my bag. I didn't have the heart to look at it anymore.
Soon seven o'clock came, so I made my way down for dinner. I ended up getting lost on the way down and had to ask one of the maids for directions. Bruce Wayne has maids and a butler that's how rich he is.
When I made it to the kitchen, I expected to see Bruce along with Alfred ready to eat, but only Alfred was they're putting food on the table.
Alfred looked up, wiping his hands on his apron, "Ah, you've made it take a seat dinner's almost ready."
I sat down and looked around, watching Alfred bring two plates over, putting one down in front of me and one across the table from me. Alfred sat down with the other plate and began eating.
"Master Wayne won't be eating with us tonight; he has an appointment with work, so no need to wait," Alfred explained between bites.
I nodded slowly before digging in myself. Honestly, I'm not surprised Bruce is nowhere to be found why would some rich, snobbish guy want to eat dinner with a street rat like me. But who cares right I won't ever have to see him once I leave tonight.
We ate in silence, with Alfred occasionally glancing my way.
I could tell Alfred didn't like me, nor trust me; it was apparent in the way he looked at me. I shouldn't be surprised by a man from his class. Why would he trust your common street rat?
I did wonder where Bruce was, though? Most foster parents see you as much as they can the first night waiting for you to do something stupid so they can punish you. But not billionaire Bruce Wayne. I guess he has better things to do at night.