Yeah, I know I shouldn't be adding any new stories when I can't finish my other ones, but this one has been tugging at me to be written for a while, and with an outline as extensive as the one for this story, it's certain to go far.
Meet Ebony Grey, a young orphan who's lived on Gotham's street since she was seven. A chance collision led to a whole new life, one full of crime fighting, family, and a joy that nobody can ever take from her.
*Please note that Ebony has no relation to the character Rachel Roth. Her name was a complete coincidence.
October 5, 2010
Gotham Harbor
It was midnight in Gotham City. That always meant two things: crime and Batman. Where one was, the other followed. I was watching one of those rare moments when the Dark Knight wasn't waiting in the shadows, ready to scare the criminals by jumping from the rafters in his dark cape and cowl. This time, it was my turn.
Two flickering lights illuminated the large warehouse filled with a seemingly endless amount of crates. The sound of waves was heard through the open end. Two groups of men stood in the middle of the huge building, their leaders speaking in low, gravely voices.
I had no trouble hearing them speak; their grumbles and growls easily carried up to where my partner and I were waiting in the rafters, ready to leap down like Batman and Robin and kick some bad guy backside.
The conversation ended abruptly. One of the leaders motioned behind him, and a harmless-looking ice cream truck pulled forward, still lazily humming its catchy and incredibly annoying tune.
"Turn that dang noise off, Louie," one of the leader's goons said, glaring at the colorful truck.
The music stopped, and the second group was led around to the back to examine the merchandise.
After looking over everything, the leader was satisfied. He signaled for his goons to start unloading the crates. The unloading process seemed to take years, but I knew it had only been a few minutes later when they set down the last box and the leaders went back for the payment and another handshake.
I looked over to my partner and nodded, signaling that it was time to strike.
I soundlessly took out an old whipped cream container and shook it vigorously before chucking it at the large group below us. My partner fired two quick shots of fire at the men, and we quickly changed positions on the rafters, narrowly avoiding bullets coming from the confused men below.
It took two seconds for the can to explode, releasing a thick fog of smoke that completely covered the lower part of the warehouse. My partner fired more shots at the thugs, generally causing mass panic as I snuck to the other end of the huge building.
Without making a sound I easily lowered myself to a small pile of shipping crates just below me, carefully moving toward the recently unpacked wooden creates sitting by the large open door, the brisk sea breeze pulling at the edges of my hood.
Using a crowbar I kept on my belt I easily pried open the top crate, revealing huge packages of illegal drugs hidden behind an initial layer of fake rainbow pops. They'd been smuggled into the city less than a week ago, a huge plan my partner and I had been watching for months. We'd read the right documents, chatted with the right stupid thugs, and even gone undercover countless times to make sure everything would be perfect for this night.
Moving quickly, I replaced the lid and ran towards the fight, holding the crowbar in one hand and a can of bear repellant in the other. My partner joined me, rushing into the fray, her hands flaming.
Even though she was small, my partner could do some serious damage. The smoke became colored with an orange tint as her fist caught on fire, and she dealt out many punches that fully knocked the men out.
I didn't have any powers, but it wasn't like I needed them.
I jumped high, landing squarely on one man's shoulders. My force surprised him, and instead of attacking, he panicked, so I was able to whack him on the head with the crowbar.
Two more men fell to my crowbar and me, but it was knocked out of my hand when I tried to hit one of the boss's arms. I was sure I'd snapped his arm as well, but he could still do some serious damage to an unarmed twelve-year-old.
I ducked two punches he threw with his good arm. The third one I caught, and, using an old move a Gotham street kid had taught me when I was eight, I shifted my weight, successfully pulling the much larger man over my shoulder and onto the ground. A swift kick to his head completely knocked him out.
Quickly, I turned to face my next opponent, only to find about twenty-five unconscious men lying in a smoldering heap next to the ice cream truck and my partner licking a strawberry-flavored popsicle, her legs rocking back and forth from her elevated seat on the back of the truck.
"Want one?" she asked innocently, holding out a fudge pop.
"Don't those things have drugs in them?" I asked, cautious.
"I certainly hope not, but I guess we'll just have to find out." She smirked, incessantly holding the fudge pop out.
"I'll pass, shorty," I said, pacing back and forth in front of the giant heap of bodies. "We should go before they start to wake up. You know, stick to the plan. Call the cops."
"Eb, I'm probably not going to get a chance to eat a popsicle for another year. Let a kid enjoy her sweets for once, will you?"
I smiled. Bree sure had a smart mouth for such a young girl, even though she had gone through so much.
"Fine," I responded. "Just hurry, 'kay?"
I turned around to watch the men, wanting to make sure nobody woke up, but they had all disappeared.
Frantically, I looked around, trying to see where they'd gone. I turned back to my partner, feeling the sudden need to protect her, but she was gone too, as was the ice cream truck she'd been sitting on.
Everything around me darkened, and I got the sudden, horrifying feeling that I was falling, the darkness pulling at me, harming me, choking me-
October 12, 2010
Gotham Slums
"Ebony! Get your butt up already!"
I tumbled out of bed, also known as a trash pile, and jumped up, still feeling the adrenaline from my dream. I calmed down after I scanned the alleyway, which was empty except for my partner and a flock of hungry pigeons.
"Calm down and eat your breakfast," she said grumpily. Somebody had woken up on the wrong side of the dumpster.
"Sorry, Bree," I apologized, flattening my crumpled shirt and sitting down next to her on the rough pavement. "I was dreaming about that night again."
She smiled. "I was dreaming about it too, so I can't blame you. I got a little too excited by accident and burned through my watch."
Bree held up a half-melted clock face and a few blackened wires. Sometimes her powers could be amazing, but most of the time they were expensive.
After hurriedly eating our breakfast and stuffing our few possessions into knapsacks, we started our trek to the next place we'd spend the night at.
Bree and I were street kids. I'd been living out here for about five years, and I'd found Bree a year back. She was an orphan, like me, and her powers added extra offensive capabilities if we ever got into a fight with thugs or other street kids, so I had a real reason to stick with her. Besides, she was seven, and she'd hardly survived her first week on Gotham's streets, so I'd felt the responsibility to take care of her.
The reason we had to move every night was because we were sort of wanted by the Gotham City Police Department. Don't worry, we've never done anything too bad (well, Bree hasn't); we're wanted for a string of lunchbox robberies from local school kids. Of course, I'm not proud of any of it, but we needed some way to get food without getting into real trouble, and lunchbox stealing couldn't get you that many years behind bars, right?
I shook myself out of my thoughts when a police car rolled past us, and I pulled Bree into an alley, wanting to avoid any high-action police chases this early in the morning.
We started on our way again a few minutes later, and kept heading towards an old warehouse on the other side of town where a gang used to live. If somebody hadn't cleared it out, then we'd have couches to sleep on tonight.
I was just showing Bree a shortcut between a few old apartment buildings when two dark figures appeared at the end of the alley, blocking our way. Their hands were reaching inside their coats, and I was pretty sure they wouldn't be handing us candy.
Quickly, I turned to escape back the way we came, but there were even more thugs behind us. We were surrounded by fully-grown men who probably all had guns or some other type of lethal weapon.
A man stepped forward, one hand in his coat. He looked angry, and I prayed that we would make it out of this alive.
"Hello, little misses. Word on the street is that you little punks messed up my boss's deal down at the docks last week."
"Well, you know how unreliable streets are at giving information," Bree countered innocently. "Besides, we're just two little girls. You really think we could take down a couple dozen men?"
"I've seen a lot of things in my day, missy." He pulled off a pair of sunglasses to reveal a dark, swollen black eye. "That little bird who keeps flying around town with the Bat gave me this two nights ago. I'm never underestimating kids again."
The other men moved closer, and I realized that if we didn't move quickly, they'd either turn us into the police or shoot us dead. I was betting that they'd choose the latter.
Bree and I locked eyes for a split second before we attacked.
I jumped on top of a dumpster as Bree let loose a torrent of fire, scaring most of the men and mesmerizing the others. Quickly I leaped over the two men who had been behind us and used my backpack to knock them out, motioning for Bree to follow.
We raced down the sidewalk and across a few streets, cars squealing to a halt as they narrowly avoided us. Five men were following closely behind.
It didn't take too long for police sirens to start wailing a short distance away from us, but the idea of Bree and I getting caught only fueled my adrenaline and pushed me forward.
As we turned a corner, I immediately ran into someone.
It took me a few seconds, but I recognized him as Richard Grayson, adopted son of Bruce Wayne. Even a girl who hadn't watched a news station since she was seven knew who he was.
He was an orphan, but he'd gotten the better end of the deal. He had been adopted by a rich man, got to live in a mansion, and was able to attend Gotham Academy, the best school in the city. I could only dream of living his life, sleeping on a comfy mattress every night, getting to learn out of new, clean textbooks instead of the old ones I found in trashcans.
Without skipping a beat, I jumped to my feet and grabbed Bree's arm, about to run past the spoiled kid when he said, "Wait!"
He seemed to know we were in trouble because he motioned to a car a few yards away. I didn't trust him a bit, but at the moment he was our only real chance to not get killed.
Richard took his sweet time to open the door and usher us inside, and the men had already rounded the corner and were about to charge us when he finally shut the door, the three of us scrunched into the backseat.
"Step on it, Alfred," he said to the driver, who stepped on the gas and quickly moved us down three streets and into the busier part of Gotham.
"Thanks for the help!" Bree said. She'd been squished in the middle of us, but didn't seem to mind.
"Yeah, thanks." I panted, still trying to catch my breath. I hadn't been in a foot chase in like, three weeks, and I was starting to feel out of shape.
"Welcome," Richard said, studying us.
"Now, if you could just let us out?"
The car made a stop at a red light, and I reached for the door handle, thinking that we would be able to hop out and be on our merry way.
Unfortunately, it's never that simple.
The doors were locked, and Richard had a look in his eyes that scared me.
"I think I've seen you on the news," he said. "But that usually means you've gotten into some sort of trouble. I'll be taking you back to Wayne Manor, where we may or may not get a visit from the police."
To be continued...
I hope you guys liked it and that you'll review! I'll be updating again soon (I promise!).