The car purred to life with a quiet elegance, gliding smoothly away from the airport chaos. Athena sank into the seat, the leather soft and cool beneath her fingers. She adjusted the golden hoops on her ears with a casual touch, the glint of her gold watch catching the muted light filtering through the tinted windows.
Her reflection in the glass caught her eye for a moment—porcelain skin against the dark black bun of her waist-length hair, parted slightly to the side as always. Her circular, gold metallic-framed glasses rested lightly on her nose, framing the deep brown hues of her eyes—each a subtly different shade of brown, one warm and one cool, a difference almost imperceptible unless you truly looked. She pressed her lips together, their natural pink tone contrasting sharply against the pale smoothness of her skin, then exhaled a slow breath.
It was strange, almost unsettling, how silent it was inside. No honking horns, no chatter from the outside world—just the soft hum of the engine and Alfred's precise, deliberate driving.
She glanced out the window, taking in the gray Gotham skyline in the distance. "So," she started, her voice measured, "what exactly am I supposed to expect at Wayne Manor?"
Alfred's eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, catching hers briefly before returning to the road. "Expect," he said with the faintest hint of a smile, "a house that is far larger and far quieter than you might imagine. The manor is... how shall I say... a reflection of its owner. Stately, dignified, and on rare occasions, unbearably brooding."
Athena arched one delicate eyebrow. "Brooding?"
"Master Wayne," Alfred continued smoothly, "has a tendency to keep to himself. Though I suspect your presence might remedy that, if only because the manor hasn't had a young soul roaming its halls in years."
"Years?" Athena leaned slightly forward, the soft glint of her earrings catching the light. "What about his kids? I heard he had sons."
"Quite so," Alfred said, his tone amused. "Four of them. All grown now, with lives and families of their own. The house has been... rather silent as of late. Which is why your scholarship drew Master Wayne's attention so quickly."
Athena smirked slightly. "Let me guess. He's lonely."
Alfred's lips curved in the faintest of knowing smiles. "Perhaps. Though I wouldn't dare use that word in front of him. He prefers to think of this arrangement as an 'opportunity'—both for you and, in a sense, for him. The manor can be a lonely place without a little noise."
Athena let his words sink in, her gaze shifting back to the passing scenery.
After a moment, Alfred added, "As for Gotham Academy, I suspect you'll find it both prestigious and... competitive. The students there are the children of Gotham's elite—wealthy, sharp, and sometimes terribly entitled. But then, you strike me as someone who doesn't have much trouble holding her ground."
"You're not wrong," Athena replied, her voice cool and confident.
Alfred's eyes glimmered in the rearview mirror. "Good. You'll need that steel spine of yours. Gotham Academy will sharpen it further. It's not just about academics—it's a place of politics, alliances, and strategy. Those who thrive there aren't always the ones with the highest marks, but the ones who know how to read the room."
Athena tilted her head slightly, intrigued. "Sounds like home," she murmured.
Alfred chuckled softly, the sound warm but knowing. "Then I expect you'll fit right in, Miss Blackwell."
The Wayne Scholarship wasn't advertised with flashy banners or over-the-top campaigns. It appeared quietly on the official Wayne Enterprises website, like a test meant for the few who happened to stumble upon it—or were sharp enough to seek it out.
The application was simple, but deceivingly so. A single online test with fifty questions.
The first forty-nine were straightforward—questions on general knowledge, problem-solving, logic, and situational judgment. They weren't difficult for someone like Athena, who devoured knowledge like oxygen. She breezed through them, her fingers flying across the keyboard as if she'd been waiting for something like this all her life.
But it was the last question that made her pause.
Question 50: What do you think about today's justice system?
Athena sat back, reading it twice, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. It wasn't a question that had a "right" or "wrong" answer. It was a question designed to reveal someone's truth.
She stared at the question for a few minutes... And smirked darkly before letting out an exhausted sigh. 'This question was the equivalent of what do you think of today's world?'
Her answer had been as sharp as it was unapologetic:
"Justice isn't about fairness—it's about power. Those who control the system decide what 'justice' means, and those without power are left to swallow it whole. The world doesn't need a 'better' justice system. It needs people willing to do what's right, even if it breaks the rules everyone else clings to. Justice isn't paperwork. It's action."
She submitted the test without hesitation and didn't think much of it. Believed it to be some sort of joke.
A week later, Athena received a single email.
"Congratulations. You've been selected as the recipient of the Wayne Scholarship. Further details to follow."
No call, no video interview, nothing. Just that single line, signed off with a Wayne Enterprises logo.
Now, as the car glided down Gotham's winding roads, Athena wondered how much that last question had sealed her fate.
Alfred, ever the observant man, seemed to sense her thoughts. "I heard from Master Wayne that your written responses stood out. Especially the final one."
Athena raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"
Alfred's lips curved in a subtle smile. "Let's just say you have a way of saying things that might be... familiar to him. He appreciates candor. And people who understand that justice is rarely black and white."
Athena glanced out the window, watching the cityscape give way to dark forests and misty roads. "Then I guess I'm exactly where I need to be."
The car slowed as they approached a set of towering, wrought-iron gates. Wayne Manor loomed in the distance, its silhouette rising against the gray Gotham sky like something out of a gothic painting—grand, haunting, and unshakably regal.
Alfred pressed a button, and the gates opened with a slow, deliberate creak.
"Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss Blackwell," Alfred said, his tone as smooth as the car's engine. "Your new home."
.
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―1060 words.