Fandom: DC AU
This isn't about Wayne's money, or about his insanity. I have worked for him, like most people in Gotham, and I have met him, like almost no-one, and I don't need any of his money and I don't care about his mind. It's about what he has built under his home, that place nobody is supposed to know about where he spends all of his hours.
Oh, I knew the rumors. It's the oldest urban legend in Gotham, and as an architect I get told theories more often than most. What's inside Bruce Wayne's mansion? What does a guy with all the money in the world, and who nobody has ever seen out of his house since he was eight years old, put in his home? I've heard all the stories about harems, giant toy stores, even a reconstruction of the last movie theater he ever went to.
And I know the truth. Not by having seen it, not all of it at least, but what I did see, what I had to see in order to build what he wanted me to build, was enough for me to grasp the whole. That and the sounds. The curses. The crying. The unclassifiable words.
The laughter. God, the laughter. That's when I really knew what the place was. Whoever was laughing like that was too insane to be Bruce Wayne, and too evil to be willingly kept in any place. It's an asylum, isn't it? Bruce Wayne has built an asylum under his home, and he keeps expanding it as he fills it with people he brings from who knows where, and then he walks through it every night.
I get it. I mean, I don't get it, but I know the prisoners are bad. I've heard them. I know. But I'm not bad, and I won't tell anyone.
Please, let me go. You have to let me go, Mr. Pennyworth. Please.
Just let me go.