My name is Alice.
And no, I am not in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.
I live somewhere far more uninhabitable than Raccoon city.
Of all the places in the world to live, I had to live here.
Gotham.
Gotham City.
It's no paradise, the streets are over-run with the homeless, the starving, the desperate, and the depraved. Not exactly the place you would want to raise a family, but for some fucked up reason, my father chose here.
I suppose it had something to do with him working at Wayne Industries, Gotham's biggest corporation, my father had always had a sick fascination with science. When I was young, visions of him experimenting in our basement like a mad scientist filled my little head, and my over-active imagination kept it alive, when really, he was just changing the light-bulb to the faulty wiring. He was always good with anything electrical.
I suppose that's what caught the eye of Thomas Wayne. My father had a knack for fixing things that were out of the ordinary, and Mr. Wayne often delt with the...un-ordinary. We were always welcome at Wayne Manor. I envied them,with their lush living, the butler, not a care in the world.
While we lived in a shitty house on the outskirts of town, my father and mother working over-time just to make due.
I envied Bruce Wayne. He was the spoiled prince, and I was the little peasant girl.
My mother would meticulously comb my soft curls, right before we would visit the Waynes, dozens of times, to make sure I looked like I, too, lived in the lap of luxury, just like them. When in reality we had next to nothing. I was grateful, though. We always had a roof over our heads, food on the table, and a warm bed to sleep in. In the midst of the chaos, we were safe.
I grew up in this, this madness. I was surrounded by it, but here in my own world, I was safe, and happy. On the inside, however...I was green with envy.
I will openly admit, I have always been jealous of Bruce Wayne, Gotham's golden boy.
Even the mention of his name would set my teeth on edge. It didn't help that we grew up together, what with my father always attending parties and having personal meetings with Thomas. My mother and Mrs. Wayne got along splendidly, like Lucy and Ethel, but when it came to Bruce and I...well...we were more like Tom and Jerry, and I just wanted him gone.
My dislike for him would always send me pouting in a corner somewhere. When I was younger, I would hide under staircases. I would play a game of hide and seek with him, only I never wanted to be found. He somehow always would though, he was like a miniature Sherlock Holmes, with those chocolate brown eyes. They would glint at me wickedly, and his devilish grin would flash, and I would roll my eyes and stalk away. Even at that age he was trying to be a ladies man.
Pardon me while I try not to vomit.
I will admit, even though we grew up around each other, and though I loathed Bruce with an un-ENDING passion, when his parents were brutally murdered, I mourned with him. He had lost those close to him, and suddenly I felt bad for the kid.
As we both grew up, we lost touch. When he disappeared, I was one of the few to know first. It was like he had vanished off the face of the earth, like he slipped into the shadows, like he became a shadow, a memory
Now imagine my shock when he re-appeared.
I was at my desk, working at Arkham Asylum (of course only someone such as I would have a desk job at the loony bin) I was filing paperwork, when the TV playing in the background announced he had returned. The prodigal son returning home.
More like coming back from the grave, I'd say.
Everyone thought he was dead. They had grieved, and moved on.
I had moved on.
And then to see that smirk once again...
I fainted. I instantly fainted.
All I can remember when I came to was those icy blue eyes. Cold as steel, staring back at me
"Alice? Are you alright? Sit up, now, you've hit your head pretty hard."
Dr. Crane was the lead psychiatrist at Arkham. He ran the place with military precision, and an iron fist.
He's my boss. My ultra-handsome, yet super mysterious, super CREEPY boss.
He could never phase me though, maybe that's why he hired me. I'm a tough cookie, with exquisite packaging. With my sea-foamy green eyes, and pouty lips, meticulously groomed brows, and thick, long, deep brown hair down to my waist. I'm a heart-breaker in the making.
You would think someone such as I would rather be a model, or a stylist, something glamorous. None of that is for me, I can stand only a few people, and this job offered me very little interaction.
I never saw any of the patients. Only if they were transported room to room, or at lunch. I was always cut off from them. Visitors were rarer. Some patients weren't allowed such a luxury, some didn't have anyone who cared enough to see them.
The police would come in often though, to see if they could get something out of someone, even if it was just a whisper of a name.
I peered up at Dr. Crane, my vision still a tad blurry, he hoisted an arm behind my back and helped me up, inquiring again if I was alright.
I stammered "Y-yes sir, I'm-I'm alright I just..." My voice fell as my gaze wandered to the televison again.
He was back, there was no denying it. Bruce Wayne had indeed come back from the dead, like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
"Ah..." he said lightly, letting his fingers lightly slide across my lower back as he released me from his grip, his touch gave me goosebumps. Something was off about him. He was cold, yes, but he had a spark to it, or was it something more?
"The prince returns re-claim his seat on the throne" He said mockingly, his silver frames glinting in the fluorescent lighting.
Apparently Dr. Crane and I shared a distaste for the billionaire playboy.
I brushed off my black skirt and straightened my crimson blouse, ever so slightly adjusting my breasts, hoping he would catch a glimpse. I patted my hair, and glanced at him sideways.
Dr. Crane was always impeccably dressed. In a handsome, deep blue and white pinstripe suit, with a crimson tie and white shirt. His black shoes were polished and shiny, and his dark hair was smoothed back and out of his face. Not a hair out of place. He stood with poise, not that of an arrogant man, but of a man of confidence, with an air of mystery, and a hint of danger. His aura was always ice cold, and his voice was the heat that would crack the ice. His eyes are a marvel in themselves. They smoldered, like a glacier, lit up in blue flames. Hot, but icy cold if you ever caught his gaze. They were framed by simple, silver glasses, they were like picture frames for those baby blues. His cheek bones were so sculpted that any Greek god would have envied him. His lips were the palest pink, and were so plush, they would leave any woman envious. Yet his lips were always set in a stern line, like he was thinking too hard, or had too much on his mind.
What I wouldn't give to see those baby blues of his giving me the once over, smoldering with lust, that skin of his drenched in sweat, his chest heaving for breaths and vibrating with moans. Now that is certainly not safe for work.
I turned to him slightly and sighed softly.
"I'm sorry about that, I was just in shock. I grew up with Bruce, and I mourned him, like he had died, and this is like seeing him rise from the grave, right before my very eyes."
Dr. Crane smirked, his gaze cast downward, and he flicked his eyes up to meet mine.
"No need to apologize, Miss Morceaux."
I loved the way he pronounced my last name. He spoke with an edge of iciness, yet there was that spark.
I could not begin to tell you what that spark could possibly mean. Maybe he just liked the pronunciation of my name.
I turned back to the paperwork at hand, and before he turned to leave, he spoke softly:
"Let me know if you start to feel faint again, I may be able to prescribe you something to ease your light-headed-ness"
I nodded, and thanked him.
I would rather you prescribe something to ease this ache between my thighs.
I really should not think of my boss that way, but who hasn't? But what woman could resist a gorgeous, mysterious, powerful man such as Dr. Jonathan Crane? Certainly not I.
I returned my attention to the paperwork at hand, patient files, those being checked in today, sorting their progress logs into their charts. All meaningless, mindless work, but it kept me busy, and surprisingly, it paid my bills, and then some. I lived in a somewhat decent apartment, in the middle of Gotham. Things weren't so bad there, yet I still kept my handgun in my purse, along with a can of mace and a switch blade was always on my thigh. I came prepared. I am not a weak woman, I do not need a man or someone else to defend me, like I've said. I'm a tough cookie.
The day went on, paperwork, phone calls, e-mails, and the news and speculation of where Bruce had been was all over the local stations, hell, probably even some international channels.
Bruce Wayne returns to Gotham.
I turned the TV off. I was tired of hearing that name. We know, he's back. We get it.
When my day came to a close, and the sun began to slowly sink, I gathered my purse from the drawer in my desk, and made sure everything was neat and precise, just how I liked it. I did a once over of my office and the hallway outside, and strolled gracefully to Dr. Crane's office.
His was no bigger than mine, but his presence filled the room completely. He sat behind the desk, poised, his briefcase opened, and his eyes pouring over something on his desk, when he heard me approach, he snapped the briefcase shut, quickly and looked up, his expression slightly quizzical.
"Leaving for the day, Miss Morceaux?" He inclined.
I nodded and smiled sweetly. "Yes sir...I was wondering if you would mind walking me to my car? The days are getting shorter, and I'm not one for going out at night, alone"
Especially not around a place like Arkham.
But Alice...I thought you were a tough cookie? Oh, I am, and I have a few tricks up my sleeve, I've been aching for him to ask me to simply DO something with him. These thoughts in my head keep getting wilder and wilder, and the way he was looking at me right now, was such a thrill. Men love assisting women, it makes them feel powerful, and I wanted to give myself over to him completely. Y'know. The whole 'damsel in distress' thing really gets their testosterone pumping.
He smirked, every so slightly, yet again and got up.
"It would be my pleasure, Miss Morceaux."
There he goes, with the name again. I smiled to myself as he held the door open for me. We chatted a bit about Bruce returning. Dr. Crane had thought he had disappeared and was swallowed up by the city, just like everyone else.
When we arrived at my car, a sleek, black, two-door Honda, I unlocked it with the remote, and he surprised me by opening the door for me, and helping me into my car. I closed the door and rolled the window down.
"Thank you, Dr. Crane, I'll see you again on Monday."
He paused for a moment, then his face broke into a slight smile, more so than a smirk.
"Alice...ah..." He trailed off.
He'd never used my name before and I felt my face flush slightly.
"Yes, sir?" I asked coquettishly.
"Would you be interested in having dinner with me some time tomorrow night? There's a new restaraunt opening, and I don't like to eat alone in public, and I'd like to discuss some things with you"
Truth be told that didn't sound like it was completely true, and I smiled widely
"Of course, Dr. Crane, I would love to." I said softly.
He smiled. And it wasn't warm in the least bit, it was cold, yet there was a gleam in his eye. That spark.
"I'll pick you up around 5?" he asked.
"That sounds perfect, sir"
"Alice...?" he questioned
"Yes, sir?"
"Call me Jonathan."
"Of course...Jonathan"
And with that, he nodded, and strolled back into the asylum, leaving me with a devilish grin on my face.
