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Name: Bruce Wayne

Age: 30

Height: 6'3

Weight: 200 lb

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Blue

Extras: None

Personality: In uniform he's calculated, distant, and confident.
The cowl helps hide his emotions making missions go smoother.
As Bruce he is much more fatherly and affectionate; also easier
to unnerve.

Relationships: Alfred - Father Figure, Joker - Rival/enemy/friend?

Skills:Technically inclined, able bodied, spatial awareness,
Multi-tasking, basic first aid training, Stealthy, versed in hand to
hand, plays the piano.

Hobbies: Cooking and sewing


Backstory:

Bruce was the well-loved child of Thomas and
Martha Wayne. His parents were notable public figures who
made large donations to charity and ran the biggest security
firm in Gotham. Thomas made everything his company
produced and then some. Getting the money to keep his empire
going wasn't easy and at times couldn't be handled cleanly but
they made do.

After a deal had gone sour with the mafia when Thomas wouldn't
supply them with the weapons promised he figured it was
best to leave the game while he still could. He wanted to be
someone his boy could look up to. Someone without dirty hands.
Hopefully his son would never know his past and he and Martha
could work toward a better safer Gotham.

To celebrate their leaving they took Bruce out to a nice dinner
and a late movie for his tenth birthday. To keep people from
harassing them for pictures as soon as credits started to roll
they slipped out the back.

As they were about halfway down the alley a man stepped out from
the shadows. Thomas's blood ran cold as they locked eyes. Martha
froze with a sleeping Bruce in her arms. A familiar face came into view.
It was the right hand of their former partner.

"Good evening Thomas," The man laughed raising his pistol.
"Such a shame we meet under these circumstances," He chuckled to
himself, amused at the situation. Stepping forward, the smile did not
reach his eyes.

"Business is business old friend. No hard feelings,"

Thomas made a grab for the gun and using all his strength pointed it
to the sky but the man was much bigger; stronger. Slowly the gun
was lowered.

Bruce was awoken by a loud shot, his ears ringing, and his mother
pushing him to his feet telling him to run. Her terror stricken face blanks
as a second shot fires out.

She drops to the ground wordlessly as the boy begins to shake. "Mom?"

Making his way over to the crying child the assailant taps the gun
against his head. Bruce closes his eyes feeling the metal press
into his forehead; but nothing happens.

He hears a click then another. The man curses clicking it once more.
The gun jammed. Move!.... Move!

Lights and sounds blurred together as he ran. Stumbling out of the
alleyway he reached the streets in a panic. A crowd formed around
him as he slowly pieced together what that sound was.

At the realization he darted back down the ally crying hysterically.
Fear is consumed by guilt. 'I'm sorry! I'm so sorry,' the words echoed
in his head. Darkness creeping on it's boarders as it hisses. 'Coward,'

When he reaches them everything is still. The man was gone,
and his parents were unmoving. Blood? There was so much blood...
The talking from the people entering the alley is tuned out.

It's everywhere and the silence is deafening. By the time he found his
voice he was screaming. It's all he could do; all he could hear when he
closed his eyes. Screaming.

As time passed sirens could be heard off in the distance. His arms wrap
around himself tightly attempting to hold himself together. A warm hand
placed itself on his shoulder and when he turned around he was face
to face with an older boy; a stranger. He was frail with porcelain skin.

Staring into those eyes full of concern and solidarity he let himself
get lost before quickly burying his face in their chest sobbing.
The teen rubbed circles on his back in an attempt to console and
soothe the now orphaned Bruce; humming as he rocked the younger.

He anchored himself here as medics rush past them.
The storm in his mind mellowed and his heart slowed in pace
matching rhythm with... who ever this is. To think someone would do
something so kind unprompted. While everyone else stared at him.
Watching as he fell apart.

He never had friends his own age before or a sibling. It was nice but
despite that he never thought of himself as alone. Not until now.
Fingers stroked his hair as he soaked in the warmth of the embrace.
When had he become so tired.

He was sitting in a dirty alleyway with a stranger feet away from
his dead parents despite this his eyelids are so heavy.

He let go at hearing a familiar voice. "Young master?"

His brain still foggy took a second to register. No! He wasn't alone!

"Alfred?" He was quickly scooped into the arms of his butler. Was
he always so small? So weak...

Alfred bounced him making sure his back was turned to the scene.
Mr. Pennyworth turned to the ghostly comforter of his young master as
he slowly rose to his feet. The kid was tall and lanky and the only color
to his skin was around some angry looking burns dotted over his body.

"Thank you truly; and your name son?" He tilted his head studying
the other. Alfred recognizes those kind of injuries. 'Poor boy and to
think he would go out of his way-'

"Jack sir," He beamed at bright toothy smile.

Alfred nodded before shifting the bundle in his arms to pat
the green teen on the head. "Again Jack thank you,"

An officer gestures to Alfred. Breathing in deep he sets Bruce down.
"Jack can you watch him for just a moment longer?"

Jack nods enthusiastically putting an arm on Bruce's shoulders.
Alfred watches as the two hunker on the curb. Fishing into his pockets
Jack pulled out a couple of sweets. For a moment the two of them
looked genuinely happy.

The police informed him of everything. He was now sitting in a
lawyer’s office. He knows where he stands now at least. While
things are processing he should have enough saved to rent a
small apartment for them.

It's not what the billionaire child was used to but it was home. As
long as he had Alfred it was home.



_____________________________




Name: Jack Napier

Age: 35

Height: 6'5

Weight: 175 lb

Hair color: Green

Eye color: Bright milky Green

Extras: Self inflicted scars on the sides of his mouth, a scar on
the left hand from a batarang, cigarette burns on his neck, wrists,
hands, and the bottom of his feet from childhood mostly faded.

Personality: Erratic, manic, paranoid, compulsive, bitter,
sadistic, and childish

Relationships: Batman - Rival/enemy/friend?

Skills: Driving a motorcycle at high speeds and small spaces
with precision, fast reflexes, making explosives, picking locks,
escape artist, contortionist, juggling, can ride a unicycle, can
walk a tight rope, great at balancing, can hold his breath for
long periods, well versed in poisons and immune to most,
knows all the pressure points of the body.

Hobbies: Coordinating outfits and make up, sculpting, painting,
graffiti art, plays the violin, tinkering.


Backstory: