MOLLY THE MAID STORY FINAL

The dimly lit, grimy house is in shambles, the stench of alcohol heavy in the air. The drunk father stumbles around the room, slamming his fists on the rickety furniture, his face twisted in rage. His slurred voice echoes off the peeling walls.

Drunk Father: Tha' li''le bra'! I'll kill 'er! And tha' Stark guy too! Thinks he can take wha's mine!

He slams his fist down on the table so hard it cracks, sending empty bottles rolling to the floor. His gaze, wild and unfocused, drifts down to the lifeless body of Molly's mother sprawled on the floor. Her vacant eyes stare at nothing, a stark reminder of the violence he unleashed in his drunken fury.

Drunk Father: All 'er fault… useless woman… always takin' tha' girl's side…

The room is suddenly colder, the dim light flickering as an unnatural presence fills the air. From the shadows, a tall, imposing figure emerges, cloaked in an aura of malevolence. His crimson skin and burning eyes radiate an eerie power. The man steps closer, a smirk playing on his lips.

Man: Quite the temper you've got there.

The drunk father whirls around, squinting at the figure before him.

Drunk Father: Who… who're you supposted 'o be?

The man chuckles darkly, stepping closer with slow, deliberate movements. The floor creaks under his weight, but it's the only sound aside from the drunk father's ragged breathing.

Man: Call me Trigon.

The name hangs in the air like a heavy fog, its weight pressing down on the room. Trigon gestures lazily to the mess around him, his smirk widening.

Trigon: Seems like you've made quite the mess of things here. But I see the fire in you. The hatred. The thirst for revenge.

The drunk father blinks, trying to focus, his anger momentarily giving way to confusion.

Drunk Father: Wha'… wha' d'you want?

Trigon: It's not about what I want. It's about what you want. Revenge. Power. The strength to make them pay for what they've done to you.

He crouches slightly, bringing himself closer to the drunk father's eye level, his voice dripping with temptation.

Trigon: I can give you that, if you're willing to come with me. Leave this pathetic existence behind, and I'll show you what true power feels like.

The drunk father stares at Trigon, his anger flaring once more as he clenches his fists.

Drunk Father: Power? Revenge? You can give me tha'?

Trigon: Oh, much more than that. But it starts with one decision.

He extends a clawed hand, his fiery gaze locking onto the drunk father's.

Trigon: What do you say?

For a moment, the drunk father hesitates, his gaze flickering to the body on the floor. But the allure of power and vengeance proves too strong. He snarls, spitting on the ground as he reaches out to take Trigon's hand.

Drunk Father: I'll do it. Whatever it takes. Jus' gimme the power to make 'em pay.

Trigon's grin widens into something monstrous, his eyes glowing brighter.

Trigon: Good. You've made the right choice.

As their hands connect, the room fills with a blinding, hellish light, and the sound of Trigon's dark laughter echoes through the house, signaling the beginning of a pact that would bring untold destruction.

-With Molly-

The sky was overcast, casting a gray pall over the landscape as Alexander's car came to a halt before a sprawling, dilapidated mansion. The building, long abandoned, loomed against the horizon like a forgotten relic, its broken windows and ivy-covered walls exuding a mysterious air. Alexander stepped out of the car, straightening his coat, and gestured for young Molly to follow.

Young Molly hesitated, clutching the hem of her threadbare jacket as she gazed at the eerie structure.

Young Molly: Mr. Alex… why are we 'ere? This place looks… spooky.

Alexander glanced at her with a small, reassuring smile, his eyes glinting with purpose.

Alexander: We're here because this, Molly, will be our new home.

Young Molly's eyes widened as she looked back at the mansion, her uncertainty deepening.

Young Molly: Our 'ome? But why 'ere ov all places?

Alexander walked forward, his boots crunching on the gravel driveway as he gestured to the mansion with a sweeping hand.

Alexander: Not just our home. This will be our base of operations.

Young Molly tilted her head, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity.

Young Molly: Base ov opera'ion? Wha' do you mean by tha'?

Alexander paused at the mansion's entrance, turning back to face her.

Alexander: A place where we can rebuild and plan. You see, Molly, this isn't just about giving you a safe place to stay. It's about creating something new—a refuge, a headquarters for people like us. Those who've been cast aside, forgotten, or wronged.

Young Molly shuffled her feet, glancing between Alexander and the ominous building.

Young Molly: So… you're sayin' we're gonna live 'ere and… do wha', exactly?

Alexander's smile widened as he pushed open the creaking door, revealing a grand, though dusty, foyer inside.

Alexander: That, my dear Molly, is something we'll figure out together. But for now, let's start by cleaning this place up. There's work to be done, and you're part of it.

Young Molly looked at him, then back at the mansion. Slowly, she nodded, a small spark of determination flickering in her eyes.

Young Molly: Alright, Mr. Alex… if you say so. I'll do my best.

As the two stepped inside, the door groaned shut behind them.

Inside the dusty, dimly lit grand hall of the mansion, Alexander stood beside a large table, examining a blueprint he had unrolled. Young Molly was on her knees nearby, diligently scrubbing the wooden floor with an old rag, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Alexander glanced at her, a faint smile crossing his face.

Alexander: You've been working hard, Molly. But I need to tell you something.

Molly stopped scrubbing, sitting back on her heels as she wiped her forehead. She looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

Young Molly: Wha' is it, Mr. Alex?

Alexander raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the table as he crossed his arms.

Alexander: That. Right there. Stop calling me "Mr. Alex" or "Mr. Stark." It's too formal. Makes me sound old.

Molly blinked in confusion, tilting her head.

Young Molly: But... it's proper, innit? You're the one takin' care ov me, so I oughta show respect, yeah?

Alexander chuckled softly, shaking his head.

Alexander: Molly, respect isn't about fancy titles. It's about trust and loyalty. You're part of this… family now, and family doesn't use stiff titles.

Molly squinted at him, her lips pursing in thought.

Young Molly: So… wha' am I supposed to call you then?

Alexander grinned, crouching down to meet her eye level.

Alexander: Call me "Big Bro."

Molly stared at him, her jaw dropping slightly in disbelief.

Young Molly: Big Bro? Are you havin' a laugh?

Alexander smirked, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Alexander: Do I look like I'm joking? We're partners now, Molly. But more importantly, we're family. And families have each other's backs.

Molly's expression softened, a small, hesitant smile forming on her face.

Young Molly: Big Bro, huh? Alrigh', Big Bro. But you'd better not let me down!

Alexander chuckled, standing up and ruffling her hair playfully.

Alexander: I won't, Little Sis. Now, let's get back to work. We've got a mansion to fix up.

Molly giggled, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she picked up her rag again.

Young Molly: Aye, Big Bro. Let's do this.

Their laughter echoed through the grand hall, a sound of hope in the midst of the old mansion's forgotten silence.

-CURRENT YEAR-

Selina Kyle lounged on the plush armchair in Alexander Stark's mansion. Across from her, Molly stood, leaning on the doorway with her arms crossed.

Selina: So, you're telling me you're Alexander's biological little sister?

Molly rolled her eyes, her Cockney accent coming through as she corrected her.

Molly: Nah, love, I'm adop'ed. Big Bro took me in when I 'ad nowhere else to go. Not blood, but close enough, yeah?

Selina tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile.

Selina: Oh, is that so? And what happened to your father and mother after that?

Molly's expression darkened slightly as she exhaled, the weight of her past evident in her eyes.

Molly: Me mum… I found ou' abou' 'er dea'h from a copper. They gave me a le''er she'd lef'. Turns ou', she always loved me, even if I ne'er saw it. She left all 'er inheri'ance to me.

Selina: And your stepfather?

Molly's gaze hardened, her voice low and resolute.

Molly: 'E vanished. No trace, no word, jus'… gone. Maybe 'e knew wha' was comin'. Don' ma'er now. Big Bro made sure I ne'er needed 'im again.

Selina leaned back, her gaze softening as she studied Molly.

Selina: That's too bad…

Molly shrugged, her posture easing as she pushed off the doorway and smirked.

Molly: Maybe. But I reckon I've got a proper family now. So no more sob stories, yeah?

Selina chuckled, the sound light and amused.

Selina: Fair enough, Molly. You've certainly landed on your feet.

Molly winked, her Cockney charm shining through.

Molly: 'Course I 'ave. I'm a survivor, love. Always 'ave been.

The soft chime of the doorbell echoed through the lavish mansion. Molly walked toward the door, muttering to herself.

Molly: Bloody 'ell, who's this at this hour? Can't a girl get some peace 'round 'ere?

She opened the heavy oak door, only for her breath to hitch slightly. Standing there was Bryce Wayne, her sharp gaze piercing and her imposing presence undeniable. The cold evening breeze ruffled her dark cloak as she stood silently, her expression unreadable.

Molly blinked, momentarily thrown off before her natural sass kicked in.

Molly: Well, well, look who's graced us wi' their presence. 'Oo the devil are you, and wha' business d'you 'ave 'ere?

Bryce's lips curled into a faint smirk, her voice steady and deliberate.

Bryce: Bryce Wayne. Is Alexander Stark in?

Molly raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

Molly: Oh, so you're one ov those types, eh? Comin' 'round all mysterious-like. An' wha' exactly do you need Big Bro for?

Bryce's smirk faded, her tone becoming curt.

Bryce: That's a matter between him and me. Now, are you going to let me in, or shall I wait outside until he comes to the door himself?

Molly stared at Bryce for a moment before letting out a long sigh, stepping aside with a reluctant gesture.

Molly: Fine, fine. Come on in, Miss Wayne. But if you're 'ere to stir up trouble, you'll 'ave me to deal wi' first.

Bryce stepped inside, her movements smooth and controlled, like a predator surveying its territory.

Bryce: Noted. Lead the way.

Molly shot her a wary glance but decided against saying more, closing the door behind her.

Molly: This is gonna be a long bloody night, I can tell.

Selina lounged casually on the velvet couch again, a glass of wine in hand, when her eyes fell on the unexpected visitor entering the room. She groaned dramatically, setting the glass down with exaggerated annoyance.

Selina: Oh, great. The bat's here. Just what I needed to ruin my evening.

Bryce Wayne stepped into the room with her usual calm demeanor, her piercing gaze locked onto Selina. Molly, standing off to the side, glanced between the two women, sensing the tension in the air.

Selina gestured toward Molly dismissively.

Selina: Molly, leave us. This is between me and her.

Molly hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly at Bryce.

Molly: You sure, Miss Kyle? 'Cause I don' mind stayin' in case this one starts any trouble.

Selina waved her off with a sharp flick of her wrist.

Selina: I can handle it. Go.

With a reluctant shrug, Molly turned on her heel and left the room, muttering under her breath as she closed the door behind her.

Bryce wasted no time, her voice cold and direct.

Bryce: Where's Alexander?

Selina leaned back, crossing her legs with a sly smirk.

Selina: He's out investigating something. Important business, you know. Why? Miss him already?

Bryce ignored the jab, her expression unmoving.

Bryce: How did you end up in London, Selina? Last I checked, this city wasn't on your usual map.

Selina chuckled, tilting her head in mock curiosity.

Selina: Shouldn't I be asking you that? How did you manage to cross the pond? Batwings out of commission?

Bryce's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles.

Bryce: I used money.

Selina rolled her eyes and leaned forward.

Selina: Of course you did. Well, you're here now. What do you want with Alex?

Bryce's smile faded, her tone firm.

Bryce: To discuss something personal. Something that concerns all of us.

Selina's eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity flickering behind her emerald gaze.

Selina: This better not be one of your guilt-tripping lectures, Bryce. I don't have the patience for that tonight.

Bryce: It's not. But it's important.

Selina let out a long sigh, leaning back into the couch with a dramatic flair.

Selina: Fine. You can wait for him. Just try not to break anything, alright?

To Be Continued...