(Narrators POV)
"Gotham police still have no leads, or clues as to who this 'Nightingale' is or why she sent five random men to rob not only the Gotham National Bank but Gotham Jewelry. The five caught are said to of appeared within a trance unable to answer any questions and only able to repeat over and over, 'We must serve our mistress The Nightingale' as of yet no leads into who this woman is or what her plans for Gotham are…."
Clicking off the television a woman with shoulder-length dark brown hair couldn't help smirking some at the idiots in Gotham, steel-blue eyes sparkling behind thin metal frames. "So they're trying to figure out how to break the spell. Good luck. As for who Nightingale is, well it will be amusing to see them attempt to figure that one out." Her voice was mocking almost, but there was clearly amusement laced in her words. Shaking her head, she pushed herself up and head to the window looking out over the city from the mansion she'd claimed upon arriving in the city.
This was going to be her city, they just didn't know it yet, turning and moved back toward the couch, her peripheral view caught the signal flared as it glowed across the sky and steel-blue eyes glared up at it in disgust. Batman. Always that stupid, damn dark knight. She thought and wondered if perhaps her plans might need to be changed due to that little problem.
Turning away once more, she moved to pick up that morning's paper and read briefly the article talking once again about The Joker and his Queen Harley Quinn. "You both might think you rule Gotham, but that is going to change. Michael!"
As she yells for her number one servant, it appeared she'd decided tonight she would go out, have a little fun and perhaps stir up some mischief.
"You called me Mistress?" Michael asked head bowed.
"Yes, get the car we are going out and I feel like having a little fun." Once he nodded and left the room, she turned back, moving towards the window, slowly feeling that smile spreading over her lips and couldn't seem to help to laugh. "Fools...they're all fools!" The sound of her laughter chilling as it carries through the air around the city.
By the time Michael brought the car around, his Mistress was dressed to kill honestly. Her deep, purple dress was barely covering her tight, round butt, it hugged her covers like a glove and honestly left nothing to the imagination while exposing her back and giving a plunging neckline to die for. Her hair she had been done in waves and flowing just over her shoulders, while her makeup was soft, yet still alluring especially around her eyes even from behind the glasses and those lips glimmered in the soft moonlight. She truly was a vision, even if the vision was as deadly as they came.
"Michael head to that club you told me about, let's see how much fun we can find there." Her lips turned up in a smirk as she spoke.
"Of course Mistress." He nodded slightly before heading off in the direction of The Black Rose a club owned by Gotham's own crown prince of crime himself, The Joker. Did his Mistress know who owned it? Of course not, he'd not told her yet, but then he also wasn't planning to betray her either.
The drive to the club was quiet and as Michael pulled up, he released a breath before putting the car in park and getting out to open the door for his Mistress. Taking the hand that was held out and assisted her out and watched as she glanced over the place before waving her hand to dismiss him. With a nod, he returned to the driver's seat and left.
A slow smirk worked its way over her face as she approached the door, arching a brow to the man there, those eyes gazing up at him seductively. "Private club, invite only." That deep, emotionless voice almost sounded like nails on a chalkboard and she sighed, cocking her head to the side.
"Oh...but see I was invited." Her voice held a smooth, mesmerizing tone that left no questioning available and within seconds the man was moving and allowing her to enter. "Enjoy the evening." He smiling and she returned it before walking past and into the club, the music loud, blaring and she couldn't wait to see what the evening was going to hold. Pausing only briefly as she looked over the club, no doubt debating on if she first wanted to grab a drink or head straight to the dance floor. Those steel-blue eyes catching what appeared to be a cage hanging over the floor and arched a rather amused brow before merely shaking her head and proceeded to the bar to get herself a drink. Figuring she'd observe a little then make a move, no sense rushing things, after all, the night was still young after all.
It was a short time after she'd ordered her drink and was taking things in, that someone approached. The greasy black hair was slicked back, he was dressed in a slightly wrinkled dark grey suit and with a smile showing off disgusting yellow teeth seemed to almost stand out in the lighting. Not to mention reeked of alcohol and all she could do was arch a brow when he paused right beside her. Openly giving her a once over, "Mmm, you are gorgeous, tell me is the view just as good without the clothes?" Reaching forward not at all trying to be subtle as he touched the fabric along the plunging neckline, gawking at her chest.
Setting down her drink she shifted slightly, grabbing his wrist and pulled it away from her body before looking up at him with narrowed eyes, "Excuse me, didn't your mother ever tell you not to touch what doesn't belong to you?" There was an unhappy tone to her voice and she didn't let the frown that suddenly appeared on his face as she grabbed his wrist phase her one little bit.
His laugh suddenly brought another gagging smell of alcohol, "Sweetheart I touch whatever I damn well please when I please. You clearly don't know who I work for otherwise you wouldn't be giving me such an attitude." Reaching once more to snag her around the waist clearly feeling cocky and over-confident at the moment. But instead of being intimidating, he was actually pissing her off. To make matters worse, this wasn't just some typical overzealous, over eager asshole, this was one of Falcone's men drunk and trying to show off.
When she noticed his arm coming around to try and wrap around her waist, her own hand snapped out gripping his wrist and twisted it sharply up behind his back, "Don't even think about trying to..." A throat clearing behind the pair caused her to pause as she slowly turned to see who now was butting in.