Prologue:

It was quiet in inner city Gotham that night, and Cecile Barst was feeling unusually anxious. Her hands were starting to feel clammy, and perhaps from the cold weather she was shaking. The sixteen year-old girl looked at her parents, who were both her height. Her mother, a slight blonde woman, was long legged and beautiful. Her father, equally handsome with his slick brunette hair, walked with pride and held a great position within the Government. The family looked, and seemed very much so, perfect.

The threesome had just gotten done with their dinner and was walking towards the car. While most might expect them to have chauffeurs, the Barst's stayed relatively normal. They loved their petite organized on the nicer side of Gotham and did most things themselves. The family was always seen in the press, along with Greg Barst's cousin, Bruce Wayne. No, they didn't know that their own famed relative was the even more famed Batman. Nobody knew of the secret identity within the blood of the Wayne's.

It almost felt like everything had suddenly grown dark and the world itself felt deep and soulless. Maybe it was the aura that Gotham surrounded those with, especially with the criminals running around. Cecile turned her head to look at the walls, holding in a gasp as she saw the familiar graffiti that struck the walls. The color of blood, vivid red letters perked out against the gray buildings. While her gaze led her to that side, Cecile was too distracted to see the man sneaking out of the shadows. If you could call him a man anyways.

His face was covered in makeup. Chalky white face, with details to give him the true look of a threat. Of a clown, but something so much more gruesome and sickening. Her mother noticed, stopping in her tracks immediately and freezing. Cecile had continued to walk, not noticing the abrupt stop in their steps. It wasn't until she heard the cackle of a maniac over a pleading scream that Cecile turned around.

"Mother!" She screamed, reaching an arm out to the woman. Her mother was gone though, her eyes had already begun to lose their gorgeous coloring. A long rip along her torso with blood pooling out of it gave Cecile the answer. Her father was running, grabbing his phone quickly and trying to alert the police. There was a gunshot, then silence followed.

Cecile felt the bile rise in her throat along with the stiffening feeling of tears and choking. She couldn't breathe; watching her mother on the pavement dying was too much. Cecile couldn't see in the darkness, but she knew her father was out there bleeding out or dead already. The emotions bubbled, and the cries erupted from the girl. She didn't feel the hand patting her back, her knees feeling weak suddenly.

"There, there doll, it's all fun and games," the voice was truly cynical, sending shivers up her spine. It made the emotions bubble up more as she let a sob erupt again. Who was this man? The makeup on his face gave no clue, and she hasn't turned to see him fully. Cecile didn't have time to turn before she heard the snap of a switchblade knife popping out. Her hands started shaking, her body stiffening.

"You're go-going to kill me?" She stammered. It was stated a question, but they both knew the answer. Yes, he was going to kill her slowly and painfully. There was no one around to stop this man now, no one would hear the screams except for him. Her killer.

There was the noise of sirens in the back and both froze up. Was there enough time to kill her? No, they both decided as the siren sounds neared. Cecile didn't move, she stays frozen in the panicked state. Her parents are dead- what can she do now? The voice pulls her out of her solemn thoughts, it's a little quieter now. A little more intense, a little more mean.

"No, apparently not doll face," the knife is still out. "Not today at least, but someday," she froze and felt the knife and the right corner of her lip. He turned her quickly, facing him and under the streetlight she saw who he truly was. His face was distorted, two long scars running up from the lips. She was too transfixed on his own face to feel the pain in hers as he cut up, following the knife an inch above. She couldn't scream, but her hands withered in pain as he cut the other side even slower. The man stepped away, grabbing her cheeks roughly and examined his handiwork.

"Not so pretty now, are you doll face?" It looked like he was smirking, pushing her to the ground as a police car stopped near them. She sobbed then as he disappeared into the shadows, twirling his knife round and round until Cecile could no longer see him. Her lips tasted odd, and the pain was so vivid. She was losing blood and felt swollen in the areas, and before she could catch sight of the person strapping her to the bed everything went black.