CHAPTER ONE
A tall, blonde woman sat in a train with a small child. The little boy kept showing interest in a young thin woman reading a book right across him. "Mommy, mommy! Look at the book the lady's reading!" The mother, who was quite embarrassed in the boy's rude behavior, kept slapping his hand and scolding him. But the boy seemed very excited and continued pointing his hand at the woman. "Look," he said, "she's reading one of The Riddler's books!" "Andy," his mother looked at him rather sternly, "didn't I tell you The Riddler doesn't exist? It's just some man who made himself this ridiculous character so his books will sell better!" (The young woman's face twitch.) "No, mom, he does exist! He's a bad guy and Batma-" "No more of that nonsense," his mother interrupted him, "Batman is just another one of those kooks who have no better to do with their life! We have no one to thank for catching those crooks and criminals than our noble police! And don't you forget that!"
The young woman sighed. She peeked above the book and looked on the mother's hands. Pale, thin. Looked very soft. She tried to look closely at the fingernails. The mother had French manicure, pink fingernails with colorful cherry tree leaves drawn on them. Undoubtedly the glamorous type of woman. This was also clear by her leather white jacket, which fit her to a T, and the makeup, which had a bit too many sparkles for our heroine's taste. The mother had probably married a rich man at a young age and gave birth early. This would explain what were the two doing in an evening train heading towards Gotham in the middle of October. They were coming back from a vacation, which they could obviously afford either because of bribing or the kid being home schooled.
Our protagonist buried herself back into the book. "Riddles for the Intelligent, Book III" by Edward Nigma was part of a series that she read, reread, analyzed and speculated on. It first seemed like an average collection of riddles and logical games, albeit very hard and intelligent. However, it contained footnotes in fine print and watermarks, all containing incredibly cryptic messages. Were those comments, riddles or just messing with the reader? She didn't know, and that's why she continued looking through the book.
You see, April Harvest wasn't an average young woman. She liked challenges. No, she loved them. Challenge was what she lived for. She tested herself in almost every field, and found out that she was much more intelligent than her genes might suggest. Excited by the new possibilities, she started training her mind and grew very fond of E. Nigma. She considered him somewhat of a mentor, even though he never even heard of her. Of course, she wasn't very happy with him becoming The Riddler. It happened back when she was a teenager, and it disappointed her to no end. However, she perceived that turn to crime as a cry for help. She thought that someday she'll let him know that there are people out there who's life had been changed thanks to him, that his work matters. Her rational side then immediately dismissed those thoughts as romantic fluff and buried them deeper.
April wasn't an optimist, nor she had any vague ideas about her future. She had the firm belief that what happens, happens, but that doesn't mean that it couldn't be controlled. She couldn't control her father leaving his family and going to jail, she couldn't control herself and her mother moving out of Gotham to live in a small cheap neighborhood in a trailer, nor could she control her mother's incredibly early death. But she could control her life in those circumstances. April trained herself, both physically and mentally, and started working at the age of 14. Every week her money jar got more and more full, and she swore that she'll never spend a penny from it until the time will come. She never asked for frivolities, as she knew how scarce money was.
Four years ago, she graduated from school and went to college. Two years ago, she dropped out. One month ago, her mother died of AIDS. Yesterday, she sold the trailer to her 18-year-old cousin. Today, she's heading on a train to Gotham City with only one trunk and a decent amount of money.
Why would someone move to dark, loathsome Gotham, you'd ask? You see, April had a goal that would only be achieved in a city like Gotham. She wanted to be a private detective. And she was determined.
So I've been having this idea for a while now and I'm glad I've actually came down to write it. This is a detective story which takes place in Gotham, but isn't written from the perspective of any of the canon characters. Instead, we'll get to observe it from the eyes of April Harvest, a young woman who thinks she can build a career as a PI. April is an OC, so I hope she'll be greeted here without any Mary Sue problems. I'll be sure to keep her on a short leash. ;)
Any critique is welcome. I'm working hard on improving my writing, so don't be merciful.