It was a cold, fearsome day in Gotham.

Bane had just set free all the criminals from Blackgate to "reclaim" the city.

Middle and lower class locals were forced to retreat into their homes while the upper class was stripped of their bearings for reasons beyond her belief. Beyond my comprehension. On the television, she watched as the masked villain Bane had said the inmates would 'take back what was theirs."

Whatever that means.

It was times like these Genevieve hated living in Gotham. There was always some villain, always some super hero. There was always so much corruption which made it all worse and she was never sure who she should trust while on her own in a city this big; full of so many dirty people. And now, to make it all much more devastating, they were being taken over by a random terrorist.

Thankfully though, she had her… extra senses helping her out with her trust issues every once in a while.

"Why is this city always under attack by one thing or another this comical?" she asked out loud to no one in particular.

"Meow."

Genevieve looked down just in time to see her black cat strut lazily over to her and rub herself on her legs.

"Hello Isis." The girl smiled patting the empty spot on the couch next to her.

Isis complied and jumped up on the couch and curled herself up against the backrest. Genevieve scratched her cat's head for a moment before turning her attention back to the television. Bane kept on and on with a long speech.

It was making her head hurt and she had to turn the damn thing off.

What she needed was coffee, and quick.

Ever since the city started to become under attack a few days ago, a lot of businesses closed and it was risky to try and leave your home for any reason. There were armed men out there. Armed and dangerous men. Rapists, serial killers, abusers, she couldn't fathom the list that went on and on and was she going to risk being captured by one of them for a simple cup of caffeine?

Yes.

Because she ran out.

And she was a fiend.

And desperate.

Not to mention she ran out two days ago and the longest she usually went without a cup was the few hours she slept away each day.

There had to be a goddamn open store with coffee somewhere near her. She was so close to the Narrows that any of those men wouldn't even think about coming to such a poor place. She wasn't poor; she had a good amount of money saved up within the last few years to take care of herself and her baby in this one room apartment.

Now with terrorist in town, not only was she losing out on her caffeine, she would lose out on her money.

Another thing to worry about.

"Fuck." She breathed.

As soon as Genevieve was conscious about herself and her life and the life of those around her she knew she was different. She could feel what other people were feeling; like an empath. She could actually see some people's auras with her own eyes just radiating around them like a soft glow. Other times it was in her mind. A soft blue color if someone was unwell, a bright orange if they were aroused or in lust for someone, even red if someone was angry. It was the strangest thing and she always knew. Her father and stepmother never knew what to make of it.

And then at the age of twelve, she started reading palms. When she told her stepmother she wouldn't have a long life and would die at a young age that was the last the woman had of her. She wanted to get rid of the child if it was the last thing she did. Her father was always too busy with his business to be around. But Genevieve was also tired of her wicked stepmother and her bright green and purple glows. It was nauseating.

At the age of fifteen, she started charging people when they wanted her to read cards to them.

Most of them were easy because people she knew were dumb enough to come to her. She knew a lot of things about a lot of people because she was observant. But it surprised her when some things would actually come to her. And she knew this was something she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

Most situations she was in were positive ones and word got around the street.

Older men started to come to her to ask about their businesses and what the winning lottery numbers would be.

Those she was so done with.

She was given a gift and she wasn't going to let it go to waste.

Slowly over the years it became her steady income, along with the job she had at a vintage boutique downtown after she was kicked out at seventeen.

Now she was out of both.

"Time to go hunt out some customers and coffee. I'll be back Isis, be good." She scratched the cat's ears and she meowed in annoyance from having been disturbed in rest.

Grabbing a black peacoat and her boots, she buttoned up and laced up before locking up her apartment and making her way downstairs from the third floor. She skipped the elevator because it was old as hell and didn't function properly most of the time.

The apartment manager, Mr. Edward Franklin, a man in his mid-40's who never fussed about much and always reminded his tenants pay on time was nowhere to be seen. Usually perched out front by the desk, she noticed there wasn't even a peep from the door behind it. Trying to ignore that fact, she simply took a deep breath walked out of the building. It was unusually and eerily quiet now. Just a few blocks down, The Narrows were also quiet. No one bothered to want to be out at a time like this. It was complete chaos. The snow was just starting to fall which made people want to come out even less. She felt like the only person in the world at the moment. With a sigh, she stood on the sidewalk.

If she went left, she'd have a bigger chance of running into a criminal. If she went right, she'd go straight towards The Narrows with no chance at finding much of anything. She should go back inside to her warm, cozy apartment though. But, she decided to go right. There was a corner shop owned by a nice Indian man in his 30's not too far away and hopefully it would be open today. He was always open. On Christmas, on Easter, on 4th of July; there wasn't a time he was closed. The man knew money was the anthem of success. And good for him too, God Bless he was open.

It had taken her a few extra minutes to reach it since it was so chilly and her bones were stiff but she made it and noticed the note on the door. It read: 'Beat it.'

Smart man indeed.

She beat on the door.

A minute later, the door unlocked and she saw the familiar brown face of Iben.

"Hello miss Gen, come quickly, come quickly." He said.

The door closed behind her and she didn't bother to shake off the snowflakes on her clothing. They were going to melt fast and she was going to be covered in more on her way back.

"How are you doing Iben?" she asked.

"Very good, very good. Just here, running my business as usual. Have you seen the news? The man thinks he can take our city down. I know not everyone will go down without a fight." He nodded and she mirrored his action.

There was a white glow around him at the moment, slightly grey. She knew he was at peace. He didn't let much get to him.

"I came by the way because I wanted to ask, you have coffee?"

Iben nodded, "Yes, for you, of course. Straight down, you know where to find it." He nodded once more before turning to pick up a basket to hand to her.

"Thank you." She smiled.

Walking towards the back of the small convenient store, she reached the cold freezers and noticed that the milk had expired. Minus one point, Iben. Sighing she turned away and went up the short aisle where she found the sugar, coffee, creamery, etc.

A loud bang made her jump slightly and she turned her head to see whom it could have been. All she could sense was blue, and red. Definitely red. It was a mixture of the two, also some green.

"Yes sir, a pleasure as always. Long time no see." She heard Iben speak.

Picking up a couple of packs, she got sugar as well as a pack of water bottles and then took her now heavy basket with her to the front.

There was a tall man with dark almost if not black hair, dressed in a ratty looking suit and glasses perched on his bony looking nose. His suit, she might add, was dusty looking; the shoulder blades were ripped at the seams. His hair was slightly disheveled and his face was pale white.

Most likely from the cold.

Because the tip of his nose was pink.

"Hi, pardon me." She said quietly.

The man gave her an odd look, raising an eyebrow. She noticed he had striking blue eyes. To be honest, he was handsome in a rugged way. Tall, dark and ruggedly handsome she mused. But his aura was throwing her off big time; it was all over the place. She had to know more.

"I'm Genevieve." She nodded.

"Pleasure." He said, not looking pleasured at all.

The Indian man was nowhere to be seen.

"Where did Iben go?" she asked.

"To retrieve a package." He said curtly.

Damn, she was feeling very light headed. She felt off. It was him making her feel this way.

"Pardon my intrusion, but I… what is your name?" she asked, gripping tightly onto her basket.

"None of your concern." He said coldly.

"I need to know." She said, slightly more demanding and he stared at her for a moment.

"Jonathan." He answered.

Jonathan, what a lovely name. What a troubled man. Tell me…

"What is troubling you?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's all over your face," she pointed out. "I can sense it. God, I can sense it all right. There's something different about you, something I can't pinpoint like I usually do. What's wrong? Why am I sensing there's something you're afraid of? Angry about?" she pried and he took an involuntary step back.

"I don't know what game you're playing, but it's better that you back off, Genevieve." He said, slight venom in his deep quiet voice.

Iben returned with a box that clanked inside; glass. Maybe alcohol? Yes, most likely alcohol.

"If you're ever alone, and you have the chance to talk, feel free to pay me a visit. There's definitely something more to you. I know it." She said, slipping her hand into her coat pocket and feeling around for her card. It was a simple business card with her address, no phone number.

Jonathan stared at her outreached hand and rolled his eyes before taking the card from her and the box from the man.

"I hope to see you return. Be well." Iben said as he respectfully put his hands together and bowed.

Jonathan turned on his heel and exited the shop as fast as he could.

"What a peculiar man." She thought aloud.

"Yes, yes. Mister is. Good man." He nodded, taking her items and ringing them up for her.

Good man…

Good man?

Genevieve wasn't too sure.


More to come ;) I hope this was a good start.

Caution: This story will deal with some drug usage, heavy drinking, maybe (haven't decided yet) graphic depiction of sex and some violence as well.

Not to sugar coat anything so you know what you will be dealing with with this story!