Chapter Text
The main hall of Gotham’s Reformatory was empty at 12:30 pm Most of the students were in class or at lunch, except for one. Helena Wayne, the pushover she was, was given the oh-so-exuberant task of taking out the trash can from her art class. And on the day they're working with clay, of all days.
Helena huffed as she dragged the trash bin to the side of the school, between Wayne and Falcone Hall. The dumpster stood at about eye level with Helena, making her nose scrunch as she pushed the lid up. She searched for something to stand on to be able to lift the can over and into the dumpster without spilling its contents. Her eyes widened as they landed on an old crate, probably used for storing papers. Helena grabbed the crate from its spot next to the wall over to the dump. She picked up the trash bin carefully, to prevent it from staining her uniform and lifted it up and over into the dumpster successfully.
With a small, but satisfied smile, Helena leaned to put the trash bin down. As she stretched to reach the lid of the dumpster, she heard a faint cracking sound. Helena paused moments before her foot crashed through the crate and she plummeted to the dirty ground, balance lost. Landing back first on the ground kept her hands from being skinned, but did little to help her pounding head. “Uggh,” she sat up, groaning. “Oh, are you fucking kidding me?” Looking down at her uniform she discovered her tights, ripped and scratched over the foot that broke the crate. Helena sighed, closing her eyes. This day, this week like many others; had been total shit for her.
Helena stood from the alley with an annoyed huff. Just as she was brushing the removable grime from her uniform, she felt a sudden chill. She paused as goose bumps rose and her hair stood on end. Looking around cautiously, Helena noticed nothing out of the ordinary. She turned her attention back to the open dumpster lid just in time to see a hole of light open over it as five boys fell out. Right into the fresh garbage. Helena winced before cautiously standing on the tips of her toes to stare into the Garbage.
The boys were moaning and groaning as they pulled themselves out of the heap they’d landed in. They were dressed in dark, strangely familiar, costumes that hung off their bodies loosely. And were covered in trash. When one of these trash boys, as she’d taken to calling them in her head, looked directly at her, she ducked behind the dumpster's rim. “Um,” one of them started “Hey. You wouldn’t know what street this is would you?” He sounded friendly enough, but then again you never know. Helena had learned that lesson the hard way when two girls from the debate team invited her to a sleepover at their dorm. Only for them to lock her in the hall’s storage room until the next day. She was only let out once her 7th-hour teacher realized she was missing.
Girls are cruel.
Maybe strange, lost boys were nicer?
Helena slowly peaked over the rim of the dumpster. ‘This is the alley between Wayne and Falcone Hall.” She pointed at each building respectively. All the boys were looking at her with varying looks of confusion. The one with the blue bird on his chest spoke. “Ah, I see. So, this is Gotham …University?” He sounded uncertain and Helena was now understanding his confusion. “Oh! No, this is the Gotham Reformatory Academy, not- it’s not really- uh. It’s kinda separate from the mainland?” Helena was at a loss for how to describe her place of living. She’d never had to do it before. “Oh.” The boy in blue said. His shoulders tensed. Helena looked at the boys closer, noticing the colors and designs on each of their costumes, becoming more sure of what they were dressing up as. The Bat ears are what nailed the coffin. “Are you supposed to be the Bats?” They all opened their mouths, but the youngest-looking boy talked first.”What is that supposed to mean?” It sounded, if possible, as if he was raising his eyebrow underneath the mask.
“Your costumes,” Helena stated plainly. The Red Robin and Nightwing impersonators looked down at their suits. As silence stretched among them Helena’s shock began to wear off and reality began to kick in. As it did, Helena took in a few things:
1. These boys fell out of the sky
2. They were wearing catsuits
3. They had no idea about GRA
4. No one was supposed to get on or off the island
“Who are you?” she asked them, narrowing her eyes and questioning how long it would take her to make it to the alarm in the main hall. The boys looked at each other cautiously before the one in the all-black (“Batman”) suit spoke up, “Who are you?”. A beat of tense silence passed before Helena reached as quickly as she could for the lid of the dumpster lid. She wasn't as fast as she thought, however, because the boy in Gray (who was on the whole other side of the dumpster before?) caught her wrist halfway there. She pulled back suddenly and lost her balance. Helena would have Smashed into the ground, again, if the boy in gray hadn’t caught her by her shirt. He glared at her, “Do. Not. Move.” he said in a low tone of voice. She didn’t move.
“Robin!” The Nightwing impersonator sounded scandalized as he hopped over the side of the dumpster. The boys began to surround her dangling form as she was lowered to the ground. Helena turned around to find the fake Batman standing in front of her. “Let's talk,” he said in a lighter version of Batman’s growl.
That day Helena learned that strange, lost boys were not nicer.