Finally! An idea comes to my head! I have been stumped for a long time as to what my next story would be about. Near the last chapters of my story Luate it hit me, I had nothing to write about. But finally this little idea came to my head. So, enjoy!

I want to own young justice. But sadly I can't! :'(


Scar killer

Prolog

A young woman about the age of twenty walked down the streets of Gotham. Forgetting what rule number one was in Gotham: Never stay out too late at night. Psychopathic killers roamed the streets, searching for their next kill, next victim, next experiment. Their twisted minds only showing their true personality: Cold blooded killers. The night was darker than usual. No moon was seen in the pitch black sky. The streets were empty, and ran slowly crashed around the young woman.

But still she continued. She was new to Gotham. Anyone could tell that she was. She had dark brown hair that went to her shoulders, and was wearing a fancy dress. She had just come from one of Bruce Wayne's fancy parties. She figured it would have been safe enough to walk home. It was only Gotham. But she hadn't heard all of the stories of Gotham. No. She thought all of them were just tall tales. Little stories you tell around the campfire. Or the stories you tell to scare your friends into running and hiding. She was dead wrong.

Gotham was a city of nightmares. Many know this. And all of them know why. Psychopaths, that's why. Psychopaths are the reason for all the death in the city. They are the reason Bruce Wayne has no parents. The reason his ward Dick Grayson no longer has any either. They are the reason people die each and every day. And they are the reason people hide and cower at night; locking their doors tight. Hoping, praying, that they will make it through the night, and be able to see their loved ones again.

The woman didn't know that these stories were true. She didn't know that this would be her last night in Gotham. Her last night alive, she would never see her parents that lived in Star City, or see her fiancé that was currently moving them into their new house, and preparing for their wedding. No, she would never see Gotham's moon, or its sun. She wouldn't ever be able to learn from this lesson. For this lesson would be her last. But she didn't know that. No one did.

And so she walked on. She only came to a stop near an alley way to fix her shoe that was falling off. That's when it happened. It was short and almost painless, but it was still agonizing. The woman fell to the sidewalk. She dropped to the ground with a thump. Her eyes were cold and lifeless. And her neck bled crimson blood. As the murderer walked away, holding the knife to his arm.