A/N: I've been thinking—would it really be wrong to NTR and cuckold the Joker?
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Evan heard muffled voices as he felt himself being picked up. The sound of a door creaking shut echoed faintly in his ears. Slowly, he opened his eyes, his vision adjusting to the dim lighting. Standing before him was a man with a commanding yet approachable presence. His broad shoulders and athletic build spoke of a disciplined life, while his sharp jawline and neatly trimmed beard radiated a quiet confidence. His piercing, intelligent eyes carried a mixture of warmth and authority, framed by salt-and-pepper hair that hinted at both his wisdom and his years.
Beside him stood a woman whose beauty seemed almost otherworldly. Her flawless complexion glowed with vitality, her dark, lustrous hair cascading in soft waves around a heart-shaped face. Her deep, enchanting eyes sparkled with kindness, though there was a hint of sadness hidden within them. She exuded an effortless elegance—her hourglass figure emphasized by her perfectly tailored attire, blending sophistication with a subtle allure. Every movement she made was graceful, almost hypnotic.
(If you're thinking what I'm thinking—yes, you're right. And no, this is not an NTR story.)
Suddenly, the quiet click of footsteps filled the room. A tall, slender man entered, his every motion exuding grace and discipline. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt and a perfectly knotted tie. His silver hair was combed neatly, adding to his distinguished appearance, and his sharp blue eyes seemed to pierce through everything they observed. His face bore subtle lines of age, each one a mark of wisdom and a testament to years of unwavering loyalty. A neatly trimmed mustache completed his refined appearance, though beneath it all, there was a quiet strength—a man who could hold his own if the situation demanded it.
'Is that... Alfred? Then that would mean… but where's Bruce? Does he even exist in this world? And if not, then… the woman holding me must be Martha Wayne, and the man next to her is Thomas Wayne. Huh. Martha's hot… except for the whole mentally unstable thing. But hey, I can fix that in six years—or less.'
The man, now confirmed to be Alfred, raised an eyebrow and asked with mild curiosity, "Madam, who is the child?"
Martha glanced down at the small boy in her arms, a soft expression crossing her face. "I have no idea, Alfred. He was just… there, on the doorstep. I don't even know how anyone got past the guards," she replied, her voice tinged with a mix of confusion and longing. Her gaze lingered on Evan—no, the child she now held—with a look that revealed unspoken emotions, her eyes clouded with both sadness and hope.
"What do we do with him now?" Thomas asked, his brow furrowed as he studied the boy in Martha's arms. His tone was cautious, perhaps even skeptical, as if weighing the situation carefully.
Martha's eyes lit up with sudden determination. "We could keep him. Raise him as our own," she suggested, her voice filled with hope. She turned to Thomas, her expression softening into an almost childlike plea. Her sparkling eyes and subtle pout were enough to chip away at the hardened exterior of even the most stoic man.
Thomas sighed, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Fine. I'll have Alfred draw up the adoption papers in the morning," he relented, though his tone betrayed his lingering annoyance. "But for now, can we please go back to bed?" he added, exasperated, before turning and walking out of the room.
'What a dick,' Evan thought, though the only sound that escaped his lips was an unintelligible cooing noise. The sound drew Martha's attention, and she looked at him with a mix of amusement and affection.
As she adjusted the blanket he was wrapped in, she noticed something tucked into its folds. Gently pulling it free, she unfolded the crumpled piece of paper. It bore a single word: Lucian.
"Lucian, huh?" Alfred mused, leaning slightly closer to glance at the note.
Martha smiled softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, "Lucian… Lucian Wayne." She hugged the child close to her chest, a sense of warmth and resolve filling the room.
[Six Years Later]
Lucian was now six years old, and life in the Wayne household had become a curious balance. Though Martha Wayne had formally adopted him, Thomas Wayne was rarely present. His political campaign for Mayor of Gotham consumed most of his time, leaving Martha to care for Lucian. It didn't take long for her to notice that Lucian was far from an ordinary child.
By the time he was one, Lucian was already walking. By two, he was speaking in complete sentences, and by three, he was reading advanced books and constructing complex objects with anything he could get his hands on. By six, he had read every book in the Wayne Manor library and was already halfway through Gotham's public library. Today, he was back at the library with Alfred, his ever-watchful companion, gathering more knowledge.
"I've been meaning to ask, Master Lucian," Alfred began, his tone inquisitive yet lighthearted, "why do you take such a particular interest in these books?"
Lucian, who was busy selecting various books on engineering, medical practices, and biochemistry, responded without looking up. "Well, it started when Mother began acting… strange," he said, his tone calm but loaded with an undercurrent of intrigue.
Unseen by Lucian, Alfred's expression shifted ever so slightly, a hint of worry flickering across his composed demeanor. "What do you mean by strange, Young Master Lucian?" he asked cautiously, already dreading the answer.
Lucian allowed a sly smirk to curl at the edges of his lips, though he kept his focus on the books he was stacking on the table. "She started disappearing for months at a time, only to return as if nothing had happened. At first, I thought it was related to Thomas's campaign, but then I noticed a pattern."
"A pattern?" Alfred repeated, his voice tinged with unease.
Lucian continued as though he hadn't noticed the butler's hesitation. "Whenever no one was looking, I slipped miniature tracking devices onto Mother's and Thomas's coats. From there, I tracked their movements, which eventually led me to Arkham Asylum."
Alfred's grip on his walking cane tightened, but he remained silent, allowing Lucian to continue.
"Curiosity got the better of me, so I hacked into Arkham's systems," Lucian explained, his tone nonchalant, as though he were discussing a school project. "I found patient files—hidden ones, too—and that's when I discovered Mother's file. Turns out, she has severe bipolar disorder and schizophrenia."
Alfred's heart sank, but Lucian pressed on, his young voice steady and unnervingly clinical.
"When I realized there was no cure for either condition, I decided to make one myself. And while I'm at it, I might as well work on curing cancer too," Lucian added with a small, almost innocent smile.
Alfred, momentarily stunned, managed to compose himself. "As admirable as your determination is, Young Master, how do you intend to succeed where experts with decades of experience have struggled?"
Lucian finally looked up from his books, his expression a mixture of pride and excitement. "Nanites, Obviously" he declared confidently. "Nanites are microscopic robots, often at the nanoscale, designed to perform specific tasks. They can repair damaged cells, deliver targeted medicine, and even enhance biological functions. With the right resources, I can design nanites to treat mental disorders like Mother's and tackle cancer as well."
Alfred stared at Lucian, equal parts astonished and proud. The child's intellect was undeniable, but the magnitude of his ambitions was staggering.
"I will need resources, of course, and a test subject," Lucian continued, casually flipping through a book. "But I already have that part covered. Now, my only question is: can you acquire everything I require, discreetly and without asking questions? I want it to be a surprise for Mother."
Though a sense of unease lingered, Alfred gave Lucian a respectful nod. "Of course, Master Lucian. As you wish," he replied, bowing slightly.
Lucian's face lit up with a genuine smile as he handed Alfred a meticulously detailed list of items, resources, and specialized equipment.
Alfred studied the list, his mind already calculating how to fulfill such a complex request without drawing attention. With a final nod, he turned and departed to make the necessary arrangements, leaving Lucian to immerse himself in his books once more.
The young boy leaned back in his chair, the beginnings of a brilliant plan forming in his mind.
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A/n: For Anyone curious, Lucian is unable to use magic or his other powers and abilities since he doesn't have his Core, which will appear Soon, I hope you liked this chapter.