Author's Note: Feel free to skip. Big plans. Big plans readers. Yes it's another O.C. (it's kinda my thing). I'm actually super excited about this one and after the whole ridiculousness of The Shadow which I somehow ended up trying to incorporate zombies into I've abandoned it for the time being to work on this story which features the perfect romance, a spoiled brat, all of our fav team members in the same time line, a character that should have been in the original storyline, and a Shakespearean tragedy. I hope you enjoy, please review, and if you like this keep an eye out for a revamped Shadow fic.

Chapter 1

Gotham City 8:00 pm

Moonlight floods across the floor of my tiny apartment. I wince at the light, tempted to snap the curtains back over the window, but instead I back away toward my closet. My face nearly kisses the floor as I trip on my crossbow so perfectly placed in the middle of the room. Cursing, I rub my foot and dread the night to come. Trying to stop criminals in Gotham is like trying to make bunnies go extinct. God knows why The Bat ever started but now he's got a whole gaggle of teens doing the most thankless job in the universe, but I can't think about them now. If I think about them I'll miss them, and I hate missing people.

You don't understand the costumes that supers wear until your sweatshirt gets snagged on a piece of wire fencing. This is why common criminals are so easy to catch but it also means I have to wear a specially designed suit for my non-existent powers that clings to my body in an oddly sexual manner and holds onto blood stains like a security blanket. If anyone ever saw my closet they'd think I had some weird superhero fetish or was a superhero. I'm not by the way. I'm just an idiot. After wrestling myself into the tight material of my suit I pull my medium length silver hair into a sleek bun. You learn to do that too after you lose a chunk of hair in some assholes fist.

I could still turn back now. I've been officially out of the game for a while. If Batman knew how I spent my nights he'd whoop me (but not in pervy way). I could still turn back, but I won't. Because, this is how I stay close to them without actually being with them. This is my thing that helps me sleep at night. The cool titanium of my crossbow is like a grounding weight in my hand, keeping my mind as strong and focused as my weapon. Red Arrow taught me how to use the crossbow, but I don't think he expected me to actually get good at it. My bat leans against the window (for close range fighting). Throwing the window open and grabbing my bat I swing my leg over the sill before the bullet slices through my shoulder. I fall back into the room and collapse against the wall, crouching beneath the shooter's field of view. I scramble to load my crossbow but the bullet in my shoulder makes me weak and I can't fight bullets with a bat, so it's down to plan B.

Plan B equals me running away. Like a wimp. I groan as the jolt of me securing my crossbow to my back yanks at the fresh wound in my shoulder. Stupid bullet. What I'd give to be Superman right now. Stupid penetrable flesh. Grabbing my bat I start to crawl, very, very slowly, with much intermittent cussing, toward the door. A thud behind me turns my head. The grenade smoking propels me forward. I hurtle through the door of my tiny apartment and slam it shut behind me. The blast erupts inside the crummy apartment, buckling the door from the shock. With ringing ears, I crawl away from the dank and musty apartment that has been my home for the past year. Oh well, I was going to move anyway. Seeing how someone is trying to kill me, sooner is better than later.

The hole in my shoulder throbs and gushes blood. I tell myself that it's a minor wound and grind my teeth through the misery. Don't worry, if I die you can say "I told you so". Two apartment building's walls close in on me as I squeeze through an alley. The blood from my shoulder leaves a long streak against the wall. A red trail glares behind me and I send up a silent prayer that my attacker hasn't followed me 'cause if they see that they're sure to find me. Even I can only handle one shot at a time.

I can't say if it's the blood loss or the acid I put in my oatmeal this morning but the sounds of the people above clatter down the fire escape like a song, pounding against my ears. Arguments and blaring music. Drug deals and domestic abuse. A man smoking his last cigarette. The gun whispering to him from the table. The world warps and pulsates, urging me to take a seat and let the assault of Gotham racket lull me into death. I'm not helping anyone anyway, but I keep going. I push forward because if anyone got anything through my thick skull, it's that you don't give up.

I slip into the most elegantly graffitied phone booth in Gotham and collapse against the glass.

"Recognized. Violet X B12." The robotic voice both sooths and terrifies me. In the cave I won't be able to hide. Not from my past. Not from my ghosts. Not from the people that I loved. The people I shouldn't have. Home has a way of doing that to you, messing with your mind and making you into a child, helpless and powerless. I do miss them though.

The zeta-beam drops me into the cave. Not a soul in sight, and I'm still bleeding heavily.

"Hello?" My call is faint and irritating. Familiar red hair brushes across the skin of a curious face. Piercing green eyes peer into mine. I can barely hear the words he speaks as my vision goes fuzzy and a black blanket falls over my mind.