Chapter 1

The school hallways are dank and filthy, and as I enter the building, the stench of abandoned garbage scattered around makes my throat lurch. Some things you can never get used to. Clumps of other students travel about, engaged in idle conversation. They walk together at a brisk pace, never breaking position.

I make my way up the stairs to my class when I hear screaming from down the hall. I immediately take off, weaving through the groups as fast as I can. My worn out One Stars skid to a stop as I come across three guys pummeling a much smaller guy. I run up and push them away,

"Hey, stop!" I declare.

"Out of the way!" one of the guys shouts, before uppercutting me straight in the face.

The full impact hits me, practically sending me flying up, small droplets of blood coming out as I hit the ground. They laugh and walk off, leaving me coughing up one more spurt of blood. I push myself up, wiping the blood off with the sleeve of my dark maroon jacket.

"Woah...a girl." the small guy realizes, standing himself up.

I turn around to face this guy. Short, thin, brown hair, kind of goofy looking.

"The name's Joey." he introduces, extending a hand.

I hesitate for several seconds, before finally shaking his hand with a firm grip, "Terry." I pause as his hand lingers on mine for a few seconds too long, "Uhm...you get beat up like that often?"

"Yep, like clockwork." he declares, seeming totally indifferent to this fact, "Do you step into fights like that often?"

I shrug, "Someone's gotta do something I guess."

"I think it's kind of cool." he offers, "Kind of like Batman."

I wave goodbye to Joey as I enter my class. How does someone like him survive in a place like Gotham High? I take my seat by the window, the smoggy view of the city in full view. The other students file in one by one, some talking, most keeping to themselves, projecting a defensive expression. One boy smacks a girl on the posterior, and she turns around and giggles, somehow flattered by the gesture.

I turn my attention to the window, and the view of Gotham City. There's something majestic about the gothic architecture, the towering spires shadowed by the rising smoke from various chimneys. Most of these buildings are over seventy years old, part of Gotham's industrial boom in the 1930s, so a lot of them are in terrible condition, almost to the point of collapse, but there's still a charm to it. I wonder what living in Gotham's heyday was like…

"Ms. McGinnis, we're not daydreaming again, are we?" the teacher snaps, calling me back to reality.

"No." I mumble, a quick reaction not allowing me to articulate very well.

The teacher raises his eyebrow, before returning to the lesson.

There's a rush of relief as the final bell rings and every student with common sense rushes out of the dilapidated school building as fast as they can, including myself. I walk through the dark and dank streets, the tall apartment buildings blocking out what little sunlight could be seen. The pavement is wet, with nothing to dry it from the nights' rains. I walk past a newspaper stand where the headline reads: Commissioner Damien Wayne Promises Safer City. I roll my eyes, how long have we been hearing that promise?

I climb up the narrow front steps of the retirement home I work at. The woman at the front desk doesn't look up from her computer when I enter, practically anyone could waltz in here and she wouldn't notice. I make my way to the closet-sized employees' office where I quickly snatch my work apron, and I'm greeted with the retirement home owner,

"Hey Terry, Mr. Grayson requested you again." he says from behind his cramped and messy desk full of paperwork.

"Mkay, thanks Mr. Thompkins."

I attend to my first job of meal delivery. It's barely four P.M. and the seniors living in the home are already having dinner. I roll out the shaky food cart and go from door to door serving meals. I make it to Mr. Grayson's room, and knock before entering.

"Terry, good to see you again." the elderly man greets with a smile.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Grayson. You wanted to see me?" Mr. Grayson and I have gotten a chance to know each other during my four months working at the home, he's full of interesting stories, most having questionable believability.

"I need you to do a favor for me." he explains, "It's very important."

I perk up at this request, what could he need?

He pulls out a book titled: Seduction of the Innocent, "Could you return this to the Gotham Memorial Library for me? I'd do it myself, but the nurses suggest I not leave the home unless it's absolutely necessary."

Makes sense. An old man like Mr. Grayson wouldn't last a day in Gotham City's streets. It's a wonder he's lived this long, although he has mentioned that he'd lived in Bludhaven for a while. Then again, is that place really any better than Gotham?

"Sure. I'll just do it after my shift's up." I tell him, taking the book.

He smiles, "Also, if you see the librarian there, tell her I said hello."

I reach the Gotham Memorial Library, a converted gothic cathedral with a large statue of Bruce Wayne in front. So many things around the city are in honor of him, although the plaques suggest he was just some rich guy who donated a lot of money. I make my way up the steps and dump the book into the basket labelled:Returns.

"May I help you with something?" an stiff woman with glasses asks.

"No thank you, I'm just here to return this book." I explain, heading for the door.

"Wait…! Did Dick send you?"

...Dick? Is she referring to Mr. Grayson? The immature side of me really wants to laugh at that name, but I'm able to contain myself.

"Uhm...if you're referring to Mr. Grayson, then yeah. He borrowed this book and had me return it." I explained.

She furrows her brow, staring at me suspiciously. Just then, there's several crashes from the library halls. The librarian and I run over to see that the library's windows have been smashed, and the library is now ablaze.

I look to my left and see a fire extinguisher in a red glass case. I punch through the glass and remove the heavy extinguisher.

"What are you doing?!" the librarian cries as I twist off the extinguisher's lock.

Barely able to lift it up, I clumsily spray the chemical contents around the fire closest. The smoke begins to rise, and the first coughs escape my throat. Lifting up the extinguisher a little higher, I make my way further in, clearing out more and more of the fire. By the time I'm making my way through the last of it, my arms are sore from carrying the extinguisher and my clothes have been singed from the fire. I exit the building, panting from inhaling all that smoke, and I drop the extinguisher and fall to my knees. The librarian runs over,

"Are you alright?" she asks.

I turn away as I cough, "Aheh...aheh...I'm fine, fire's out. Thank goodness nobody else was in there."

"What could've caused that?" she wonders aloud, seemingly looking to me for an answer.

I think for a second, "...well, the windows were smashed, and since they're slightly above ground level, something most have thrown into them, probably molotov cocktails, that's why the fire spread so fast." I hypothesize, getting back on my feet.

She nods, smiling knowingly, "Good, and, who do you think would do something like this?"

"That I have no idea." I confess, "You're the librarian, right? Is the library tied to any gangs or something?"

"Unless you're referring to the government, no, we're not." she replies.

"Well, I'm going to head home, sorry about the library." I start walking down the steps, dusting some of the soot off of my jacket.

She frowns, "I don't think Dick made the right choice, sending you here."

I shrug, "He didn't know something like this would happen."

"You never know with him."