Chapter Text
*Disclaimer: The author of this fanfic claims no ownership of the characters and elements related to Batman, Batwoman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, The Gray Ghost, Superman, Supergirl, or the Justice League, they are under ownership with DC Comics and Warner Bros. The character Olga Yezhov (Soviet Superwoman) is a creation that is neither affiliated with DC or Marvel comics, instead she's an original creation done by a friend of mine and she has given me her blessing to use the character. If you want information on Soviet Superwoman you can visit: https://www.deviantart.com/soviet-superwoman*
Prologue
May 23rd, 1989
That night, everything in her life changed, shattering the happily blissful existence she had once known. The wedding had been a thing of beauty, even when the press headlines printed out the words “Billionaire Thomas Wayne, age 46 marries Former Prosecutor Martha Wayne (Kane) age 23.” They acknowledged the age gap they shared, but she was no stranger to witnessing couples with age gaps, her parents had an age gap in their marriage, but they were still together to this day. Even her older sister had an age gap with her boyfriend.
She remembered how her eyes were glued to Thomas’s while she walked down the aisle with her father, how deeply in love he was when he saw her in the beautifully elegant wedding gown. She mirrored the smile he wore all the way down the aisle walk, said smiles never leaving their faces even when they said their vows and ‘I do’s.’ They had a genuine fairy tale wedding that was enhanced by the fact that they were genuinely in love with each other, despite their age gap.
The public was only privy to a fraction of the truth. While the world saw a billionaire businessman marrying a former prosecutor that was young enough to be his daughter, those closest to Thomas and Martha knew the darker side of their union. Martha wasn't just marrying Thomas Wayne, the orphaned billionaire—she was marrying his alter ego, The Gray Ghost, Gotham City's brooding crime fighter. In choosing to spend her life with Thomas, Martha also accepted his vigilantism and the deep-seated desire for vengeance that fueled it. This secret, shared only by a select few, added an air of complexity and danger to their seemingly fairy tale romance.
Despite the inherent risks of Thomas's double life, Martha found a strange comfort in the shadows. As someone who had faced darkness in her own life, she saw in Thomas a kindred spirit, someone who understood the weight of responsibility and the necessity of action. Rather than shy away from the danger, Martha embraced it. She herself was no stranger to being around a masked crime-fighter, when in 1979 on Halloween, she and her family had been ambushed by muggers and later rescued by the laughing specter known as The Shadow.
Up until that tragic night, Martha, and Bethany had worked deeply with The Gray Ghost to keep the streets of Gotham City safe for decent people, thanks mostly to Bethany also being a lieutenant for the GCPD. If a case showed up that was complicated for the Police Department, Bethany consulted with The Gray Ghost to form some opinions while Martha worked behind the scenes to help him in the hidden cave at Thomas Wayne’s Castle outside of Gotham City.
Some nights when The Gray Ghost haunted Gotham City, Martha waited for him at home and he would always manage to return to her at home, no matter how late it would’ve been when The Gray Ghost fought criminals in Gotham City. One thing she always looked forward to happening, depending on how angry Thomas was when he disrobed his uniform, he would focus that anger on giving his young wife a brutal fucking in their marital bed. The sex was hard enough to be close enough to rape. But in Martha’s mind, it wasn’t rape if she consented to him. She welcomed it.
Their bedroom life might have been rough and brutal, but outside and during the day, Thomas had been a kind and loving husband to his wife. They built a blissful life that later got great news.
Martha then remembered how happy Thomas was when she gave him the news. The memory brought a warm smile to Martha's face. Thomas had been overjoyed when she shared the news of her pregnancy, his face lighting up with a rare, genuine happiness. In that moment, the darkness that often haunted him seemed to melt away, replaced by the purest form of love and excitement. It was a reminder that despite their dangerous and complicated lives, there was still room for the simple, beautiful moments that made life worth living. Martha treasured that memory, holding it close to her heart like a precious jewel.
Even when they were at the theater, their rare night out, everything up until that night had been perfect. They later found out their baby was going to be a boy, but both agreed to hold out on naming the baby until he was ready to be born. But what Martha never knew until after that night, Thomas secretly thought of choosing the exact same name that she did for her baby boy. What she did know, however, was an excited husband who was looking forward to being a father.
The opera reached its crescendo, the powerful music reverberating through the theater and filling every corner with its passionate melody. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated beauty—but for Martha, it marked the beginning of an unexpected ordeal. As the final notes echoed through the hall, she felt a sudden, sharp pain in her abdomen, followed by the unmistakable gush of her water breaking.
Panic rose in her chest as she realized that her baby was coming, right there in the theater. Thomas, ever observant, immediately noticed her distress and rushed to her side, concern etched on his face. They had only moments to act, and with the fate of their unborn child hanging in the balance, every second counted.
But the last moments she never counted on happening were when she was gently being guided outside where Alfred had been waiting outside their limousine to drive them to the hospital. She was gently guided through her breathing while Thomas cradled her body down the stairs, due to no elevators in the old theater building. She saw Alfred promptly open the door to let her in the car when they finally got outside.
“Let’s say we finally get our baby into the world, darling,” were the last words she heard from him as a normal breathing human when it happened.
As Thomas prepared to seal the limousine's door, the tranquility of the night was shattered by the brutal echo of a sniper rifle. The bullet tore through the chilled air, embedding itself into Thomas's chest with a horrifying crunch. He staggered forward, vision dimming as agony pulsed from his wound. At this sight, a scream ripped from Martha's throat, raw and filled with terror.
With a last, desperate burst of strength, Thomas managed to slam the door shut, sealing Martha safely inside. “Alfred,” he choked out, blood bubbling from his lips, “get Martha to the hospital. Protect her and my son.”
Alfred nodded in a grim understanding, his loyalty to his employer and brother in arms unwavering even in this moment of crisis. He didn't need to be told twice as he started the limousine's engine, flooring it towards the nearest hospital. In the backseat, a desperate cry piercing the chaos as she huddled in the backseat. Her hands gripped her rounded abdomen, a stark contrast to the cold, creeping dread that seeped into her bones. The warmth that trickled down her thighs was a cruel reminder of life’s fragility, a life that stirred within her even as another was brutally snatched away. Her husband’s name, a broken whisper on her lips, became a mantra against the encroaching despair. The bullet, a harbinger of fate’s indifference, had stolen more than a partner—it had robbed a child of a father’s embrace, a family of its cornerstone. And as Martha wept, besieged by the agony of birth and the torment of loss, she grappled with the harrowing truth: her son would navigate life’s tempests without the guiding hand of the man who gave him life.
Alfred's heart clenched as Martha's cries of mourning mixed with the labor pains in her body. He knew that when they finally arrived at Gotham Hospital, he would have to take charge and ensure the safety of both mother and child. The doors of the limo opened and a team of doctors and nurses waited for them, escorting Martha to a wheelchair specifically prepared for her.
Martha's head swims as she tries to focus on the hushed voices of Alfred and the doctors. They are discussing her life-threatening situation, but all she can hear is a distant buzzing. Suddenly, she feels a sharp prick in her arm and realizes they have already administered the sedative. Panic courses through her as she struggles to stay conscious, knowing that she could slip away at any moment. The last thing she sees before losing consciousness is the cold steel of surgical instruments and the ominous silence of the operating room.