Hail and salutations one and all! Welcome to the beginning of a co-written fanfiction of Harvey Dent. Of course neither of us own the character and the second created (Ava) is purely made up and is not based off of any canon batman character. Each perspective is spit by a '' shifting between the females perspective and Harvey Dents.
I hope you enjoy the read as much as we enjoyed writing it!
Click… click click click, click… click click
As if a needle of a sewing machine, the soft pale pads of her fingertips tapped against the plastic buttons of the laptop computer that rested in her lap, on the screen a full page of text trailed down the screen's length and was continuing without hesitance or pause for break; it was repetitious in nature though not in interest as there was much to write about when living in such a place as gotham was. It is a place held together through the efforts of the good, efforts that are stained and challenged to remain intact with the increasing crime rate about it; it was evident for all to see that the balance between the two forces was tipping to compliment the crimes and violence that gloomed every inch of a once peaceful living within the cities boarders. It was through this installation of fear that one could not trust one's own friends, own neighbors, even loved ones because it was difficult if not impossible to gauge who fought for which cause through appearance alone; citizens lived in a heightened state of paranoia and with just cause as well.
Click click… click click click, click…
It was disheartening, for as a journalist she mustn't pass off details no matter of their nature; though she strived and fought to present gotham in the most positive light, it often became shrouded with the ever-present threat of violence, crime and death whose roots were growing deeper and deeper into the heart of the city.
It was underneath the shade of a tall and old green giant did she choose to stop and write this evening, it was beautiful in the park when the seasons rest sidelong with one another; the warmth of summer still lingering as the leaves on the trees and other vegetation had begun to change color, all while a cooling breeze rusted through the grass and tossed fallen leaves into its grasp. As the foliage danced and bobbed on the waft of air, the diminishing sunlight pulled the vibrant autumn colors from the leaves, red oranges and yellows while accompanying the leaves was the faint sound of laughter, children laughing with their parents as the families walked through the park on their departure before sunset. It was one of her most adored places in the whole of the gotham because often, those that came to central park were light in spirits, which in turn uplifting her own as well. A small smile caressed her own thin lips as her attention rested on one of the families whom had begun to leave the area.
A constant and low hum from the fan of her laptop computer dragged her attention once more to the document presented on screen, which she then saved and shut down the computer, slipping it into the messenger bag that lay on the grass alongside her; a stunning collection of fabrics were sewed together to create the canvas of the messenger bag, evident that it was a homemade patchwork, hinted towards the small but honest living she made as a writer. It was getting late as the final periods of sunlight were being presented across the landscape, bathing all in its reach in 'firesque' hues which became temporarily painted across the light moonlight-shaded tresses of her short hair. It was too wondrous of a sight to leave; she gave into the temptation willing and remained resting against the trunk of the tree to watch the sun roll down. As the chill of the night crept against her she pulled the ivory sweater that circled behind her, up and over her shoulders, fidgeting as she slipped both arms in and zipped the garment up.
It was a disappointment that the sunset lasted for a short few moments before the hounds of nightfall claimed dominance across the cityscape, with that her invitation was drawn to a close and she gathered to her feet, pulled the massager bag's strap above her head and down against the shoulder, opposite of the side that the bag rested against. As she began to leave, walking down the stone pathway, her boots tapped against the stone; her boots reached to a length below her knee and was made from a soft black suede. In the boot was tucked the hem and lower region of the light-colored blue jeans that she wore which fitted against the curves of her lower body with a delicate manner. As her hand rested on the flap of the messenger bag, swinging as she walked- paused all of a sudden to the sight that stood in her path- she paused as if halted as the pupils of her intense oceanic-blue pools widened.
A small number of four men, draped in the newfound shadows of the evening, stood in her path.
A faint feeling, a threat and warning, she allowed herself a small step backwards from the direction where the men waited; she could feel their stare against her skin, could feel their sickening grins across their slippery lips and forked tongues slipping across dried lips. In small attempt to remain calm and casual she looked down to her side and lifted the flap of her bag, pretending that she had left behind something, she then turned and began to walk in the opposite direction. As she turned she heard the sound of quickened footsteps behind her, and that feeling, that threat, grew as the sound did- she began to run for all it was worth.
A hand reached from behind and grasped a fistful of her hair in the man's hand, pulling her backwards with the full of his strength against his own body. As she felt herself being ripped backwards and a pain needling against her scalp, she began to jerk and flail against the man's strength which did naught to affect his hold on her. Her head upturned to the sky as the man brought his hand down, her lips parting as if to scream as a strip of fabric was pulled about her mouth, gagging her; she could taste the sweat and dirt in the fabric, the sensation of the two causing bile to rise in her throat. It was the final sight she seen, the midnight sky, as a black fabric bag was pulled down over her head and fastened. A sharp kick to the back of her knee caused her to fall down onto the stone, and the blunt strike against her head added the final ingredient as she collapsed to the ground, dazed.
One of the four men chuckled and then bent down, arms wrapping about the woman's small frame and in one motion heaved her entire form up and over his shoulder. With a sense of accomplishment he turned and began towards the gate that left the park, and the van that awaited the four men, a door sliding open as they neared- the man tossed the woman's body into the van and then received a pat on the back from his buddies. In a state of daze, half aware and half not, she knew not where she was or what had transpired from the time in the park, until she felt herself being lifted and carried once more; she listened, hearing voices and doors opening and closing. A sharp pain sprung up her back as she was dropped into a chair, her wrists and ankles then tied to it to restrain movement or escape. As the bag was torn from her head, the sole light that lit the room was hung over her head; it stung her eyes at first.
In the shadow she heard them, knew that the four men were there watching with a sick satisfaction; she was frightened, terrified even as tears decorated, staining her cheeks as she looked about her hopelessly, unable to see past the circle of light that she was positioned in the middle of.
Was he once like that? Was that him upon a long ago dream? Blindly walking the streets below without so much as a second glance towards danger. Any citizen of Gotham knew that there was potential of.. not getting mugged like in most major cities.. but of being horribly mutilated and then your immediate family raped. Yes.. he knew of this danger quite well- but was he aware of it then? To a degree he must have been.. he recalled being a lawyer, (He nearly scoffed aloud at the concept now) he once fought against these said evils. But did he comprehend its depths.. Really? Or was he doing what he felt at the time must be done.. he suspect even in his youth it was a selfish need to be seen as salvation- to be seen as the best there was. Itd make sense.. he recalled that much about himself. His life was a haze, his past, It seemed like another tale besides his own. Those of the victims hes seen pleading far to many times to take into reality. He had existed once, normally, as normal as he could have provided for himself. And since the story he recalled seemed suiting- at least.. it seemed to make sense, he choose to accept that one as his own. But that all he held, was memory of it. He doubted if anyone else could even claim that. For all he had become, he could never recall anyone talking about what he once was. It had to make sense. As much as Gotham has destroyed others- he had at one point destroyed Gotham's hope.. and few others can claim that.
His eyes cast down over his nose and snarl- his body stiff and unmoving. His face not following suit to turn towards the pavement below- but indeed kept forward, allowing him to look down both literally and figuratively at the city below. His shoulder blades square against the outside of the cement building, the hard brace casting a chill against the flesh that lay beneath- the part of him that remained unmarred even under his mask of light and dark clothing. The blazer that was normally worn on top off his shoulders and likely hung somewhere else. His arms snaked across his chest, folded. The dress shirt as pressed and neat as ever in the split of black and white. He stood on the roof of a construction building, partaking in a habit of his. Though he normally smoked in doors, some subconscious yearning begged for the fresh night air and noises of the city. He slipped out of the company of his fellow thugs to indulge in the pleasantry.
The building was not exactly abandoned as it was in the slums of the city, and still showed signs of usage. But despite the fact that it was neither residential or a functioning business it was otherwise ignored by criminal and authority alike. Most buildings of this sort were... and it was well known that his sort, lesser or worse, took advantage of the building to use for their own advantage. Though it was never known where one criminal was hiding within this playground of potentials, it was generally assumed that ever festering hell hole held a few rats. And no one choose to take the change of meeting up with the potential plague. But while the citizens even acknowledged this unspoken rule, they still shamelessly walked by the said buildings undaunted. He supposed this was due to the very same unspoken rule. If they left you alone- youd leave them alone. What satisfaction was there to pick off strangling gangsters in the slums, what worth was that?
Polished shoes leveled out before him as he placed his weight from the wall behind him onto his own being once again. Gravel hissed in protest beneath the polished leather at the added weight. Slipping about the flat soles. He stood upon the roof, glancing down out over upon the darkness that lined the streets below much clearer then his former roost. Night had fallen without so much as a sound.. the final splattering of blood red fading upon the skies canvas. He watched those below hurry to get home a snarl of disgust all too evident even upon his marred features, the illuminating strands of fading red light catching his vision giving his appearance the illusion of being a bloody mess it once was. A female, dressed in sultry clothing- flaunting off her figure and shape within the streets below. Walking at a casual pace by herself, weaving between the buildings like a snake cornering an unsuspecting mouse. Two teenagers that seemed messed up beyond comprehension took turns between laughing at each other and a garbage dumpster, a drunken bum that hadnt the energy to beg for money, a out of place looking father and son mere streets away from a group he recognized as his own men. A hunger was amplified within the red pupils- like a cat watching a flitting bird just out of its reach. The muscles along his jaw line visibly tightened, the cigarette within his teeth bending in contrast to the sharp abuse. The stiffening running down through his entire core as a hollow rage gripped his very being in an unwavering grasp.
A deep gnawing in his chest urged one of the passer bys to look up- to take notice of him. To spot his horror and run in terror that should rightfully be twisting their very breath from their body. He willed them to look up at their once symbol of salvation, and to panic in acknowledgement of what he now was. To realize where they were, and the state they were in. They were defenseless. He could.. and would- and would enjoy destroying every single one of them. To make them look upon his face and see what he seen every day- to know what Harvey Dent was like- to know the true Harvey Dent, and know what they trusted in, lost, and choose to forget. Hed make them remember him.. in one way or another his name would be feared. His hands clenched and unclenched subconsciously at his sides as his mind twisted over these thoughts unchecked. His body to tired to try to mark the grotesque thoughts that flitted through his mind. He hauled in a breath of smoke through a constricted filter, running the toxic smoke through his lungs and out through his nose without so much as raising a hand.
Slowly.. oh so slowly.. lost at first upon the male, the tension was broken.. a whispering voice as soothing as a mother calming a child from late night terrors. A brief summer breeze.. a whispering breath with a telling secret of cold upon the dying season. The cooling voice that was once Harvey Dent upon the dying day, and his shoulders eased. A playful tossle, a sightless hand toyed with the ex lawyers hair, neither biased nor judgmental. Twisting the white within the black playfully and caressing the flesh without hesitation with a lovers grace. A hand subconsciously moved to his blazer pocket to toy with a single piece of silver. As his actions eased his mind did as well, returning to a dull numbness… no thoughts corrupted or eased his soul further, but in its simplicity he welcomed a dull indifference.
He hauled in another breath of smoke and wished that the sensation still burned his lungs- far to long ago he had grown used to the effects of the habit.
"Ahahahaha- Ya go fishin mate?"
A voice broke the white noise of sirens and screams that was Gotham. Brows furrowed upon Two-faces brows as his attention plummeted to the entrance of the building beneath where he stood. It seemed one person didnt take enough heed to the corrosion of Gotham. Four of his men chuckled and talked boisterously amongst themselves. Adding a hearty elbow to the rib whenever the conversation called for it. The tallest and beefiest of the group held a package over his shoulder- obviously a female prize… and quite the prize at that. Well dressed, young in age, and lithe but well formed, even at this distance. His fingers stilled upon the coin in his pocket. The voice had belonged to the thug set at the door.
"Aye! Caught me a big one too!"
This set off a chorus of guffaws and shameless hoots of laughter. The noise obviously startling its package as it took up squirming once again. In a fluent motion the men oozed into the building as a hand rose sharply at Two-face's side. A glitter of silver flicked from his finger tips- illuminated by the lights of the streets below it took on a spirit of its own, mimicking the stars that had begun to pepper the skies above him.. and even before his black clad hand had snapped the coin violently from the air he knew which side would be shown, and that perhaps just this one last time justice could be had. He began to move toward the door even as he glanced into his palm in confirmation.
The building wasnt big, but it didnt take much to guess where their prize was going to be placed. The basement traditionally the location for such dark deeds as was about to transpire. The windowless room encoated in cement insulation and then meters of dirt was no stranger to the evils of man. His new found destination was halted for a moment as water splashed about his heels mockingly. He snarled instinctively like a provoked beast at the inconvenience. His gaze turning accusingly to the puddle that had formed within one of the many dips in the buildings sagging stature. It had been raining relentlessly within Gotham, suiting.. it seemed some unnamed god was weeping for the cities lost. This only deepened the mans disgust and annoyance towards the pooled water. The wavering slender reflections twisted in response to his sight- twisting his already twisted reflection. A flitting look of sorrow flitted across the males vision before being engulfed like a toy boat upon a tsunami by a crushing rage. A gloved hand rose for the first time to his lips- and with a casual action flicked his all but finished cigarette into the mocking portrait. The only return statement he had grace to return, before continuing on his path.
He remained tactfully unnotable as he moved down the stairwells and hallways. There were few left within the building. Not that he noted how many henchmen he currently had under his influence. He had long ago stopped paying attention- and simply took matters into his own hand more often then not. Which generally meant that he attracted more scum who wanted protection for free. He supposed it was some sort of pay off for not being mutinied by his other 'crew' for what he used to be. It was a common folly however that because he didnt do much with his thugs that he wasnt still his. A smile- a sincere if twisted amusement flicked across the right side of his face at this simple notion. They were nothing but toys- things of amusement and convenience.. if they were anything else, well.. they wouldnt be here. Muffled voices became all the clearer the close he came to the bowels of the building. He pressed his back up against another cement wall- the same familiarity of cold hard unmoving support catching the flesh beneath the fabric. He listened.
"Come on babe- smile. Ya gonna have some fun"
"Ehehehe stop tormentin her Slicer an lets get on with it-" A pause
"Lets? Im not sharing the lot of yas get outta here. You mugs dun deserve the likes of her. Go find yourselves a hooker. Besides you prefer that transsexual bullshit anyway-" The sound of laughter being cut short but a guttural gurgle and a snap. The other guy had thrown a punch and it seems a fight ensued. A third voice started chuckling to himself, and a muffled feminine scream. Obviously the other men were taking the distraction to their advantage. More muffled sounds and then another yelp. A slight shadow stirred through the opened door way into the shadows outside the central lights reach.
Three men remained in the depths, one having either lost interest or plans to have what ever was left over not wanting to be part of the fray. One man was curled into a pathetic ball upon the floor- each wavering breath leading to an equally shaky coughing of blood. Broken nose if two-face had to guess, and winded. Two cheap shots and then left in the dirt. The males pride hurt more then his physical body, it was unlikely hed attempt to gain dominance over the others. The victor must have noticed the third guy going towards the prey as they were now in the throws of fighting… if thats what it could be called. One had the other by the cuff of his collar ready to throw a punch, and the receiver was cowering for all it was worth. The aggressor barked sharp words in victory.
"Hey- I dont think so piss ant! Hands off- shes mine!"
"My sentiments exactly…"
A deep calculatingly calm voice, gruff, more of a growl then spoken. Though no emotion stole over his tone, the very nature of the vocals oozed with anger and venom. A sickly silence hung over the air as all three thugs turned towards the source of the sound. Victim, pray and bloody nose all forgotten. A taste of a smile danced tempting upon the corner of the males mouth- attempting to betray his annoyance with sheer amusement at their horror struck expressions. But with careful training he stared undaunting- his own mind twisting to picture what he must look like through their eyes. A twisted beast of a man, caught in a world between his highest and lowest point, pasted across his face quite literally emerging from the shadows before their very eyes.. and above all else.. their boss.
It took a moment for his words and their meaning to actually sink in.
"B-boss..?" the thugs expression dropped in a mixture of checked annoyance and disappointment. It was much like watching a child drop a snow cone onto the sand. He allowed his smirk to show blatantly.
"Shes mine. "
The complete lack of anger made the statement inarguable. It wasnt even a question- it was fact.. and fact is unchangeable. The thug dropped his companion and all three of them left without so much as looking over their shoulders. He knew their sulking would be cured by returning to the streets for another hunt- it was half the fun after all. Surprised that he actually left without a further word he turned his attention once more to the captive.. he had remained out of the single light above her head. He looked about him as if to check if he could be seen. Logically her eyes shouldnt be able to register him- and deciding by her lack of screams.. he suddenly felt ashamed once again of his appearance.. with the innocent youth, flawless in her appearance and the very image of innocence.. he felt suddenly very ill- fighting back either two-face or Harvey dent attaining a grip over his mind.. both sides ruthlessly fighting with one another at the very presence of the female. Anger and sympathy lapped in cross hatches, raw violent lust and compassion. Even as his mind grasped a basic question to ask to inform her of his presence and his presence alone a hand drew into his pocket once more. The feud within him would have a victor-
"Who are you?"
A flash of silver from black clad hands-
But he would not choose which side.
It was indeed was not what she would have dreamt to happen when she set off this afternoon, then again it isn't such a thing that one anticipates to happen. It is known to all whom live inside the walls of gotham that crime was on a constant rise, and she knew that fact more then the average individual as it was her set goal to record and write about the happenings around her; she felt a fool, a dreadful fool because in her articles she would plead for those whom read her words to be careful, no matter where, no matter the time- it served her well enough then for neglecting her own advise.
It was not the first time she had found herself caught in a threatening situation, but never did those situations escalate to this extent. In her mind these thoughts continued to race, continued to beat on and on like a drum which became louder and louder- to the extent that it diverted her attention from the sound of the men who fought around her. It might have her mind's instinct, a tactical offense to see that her mental state focused on her own thoughts and feelings, rather then those about her- it kept her calmer, given the situation, it helped that she remained ignorant of the emotions that raged inside of the room. It was not until she felt the presence of one of the men nearing her, did her mind wash blank and she felt him within an instant, felt his feelings, his thoughts, his wants, his cravings, his brutality which was focused on her.
It was then she began to panic, she squirmed about the closed in space of the chair which she sat in. As she began to trash the plastic fastening that was tightened about her wrists began to teeth in against her tender flesh, a distinct line of red rising against her skin, threatening to become a wound if pushed further. Her head twisted to the side as she felt the man ever nearer, attempting to scream though the soiled rag that gagged her mouth prevented her to scream. It was then she began to work against the gag, which as she had begun to squirm and move about, had loosened and soon as she continued such movements loosened enough that she was able to push the gag from her mouth using her tongue.
As the gag rolled down and about her neck, the man's hand snaked out to clasp around her mouth before she had a chance to mouth a word or sound. His grip was tight and painful, she drew her head backwards as far as she could to escape the man. As she stared at his shadowed figure in front of her, tears began to roll down along her cheeks, cheeks which were speckled with dried dirt from the bag that was once fastened over her head. Tresses of moonlight-blonde hair plastered against her damp cheeks, her chest bouncing, rolling up and down like a wave would break across the water and then dip down once more.
It was instant, the connection, as the brute grabbed her about the mouth to silence her; she saw him, she could see his true self, his hearts desire, his thoughts and past. It was a magnificent wonder which was almost quite nightmarish, as it was never meant for any individual to see such in another. It was against her will to see such, though it was forced on her time and time again- as much as she tried to deny herself and what she was, it came, like the moon chasing the sun in an everlasting game of cat and mouse- it would come, it was unstoppable when the two tyrants would gain lead till the other won victory once more.
Underneath the man's grasp she began to tremble, his malice she expected, his lust was mixed with a wanting that ran deeper then she had expected, it was not the simple act of rape did the man take pride and enjoyment in, it was her reactions, her horror, that fed him. In the backdrop of her hearing, she heard another voice, and the hand was drawn away from her mouth and the man stood watching her for a second longer, before turning and leaving without hesitance or refusal.
In the silence she felt herself stiffen all the more, she knew that the thugs had left though indeed would not have left unless one of higher status had presented him or herself; however there was more then this, she knew there was another, she could feel him, sense his presence about her, cloaked in the shadow of the room. As her lips parted to draw in uneven and short gasps of air into her lungs, her bright cerulean pools darted about, against the shield of light that faltered her sight, allowing her to see within the ring of light and no further.
"Who are you?"
On occasion she was grateful for the 'curse' that she lived with; indeed she felt that he was not driven with anger, there was something else there, something different. It was as if this man was much like black in white in the regard of aura of emotion that surrounded him; she felt at the same instant a sophisticated calmness and civility that was edged with a strong taste of madness that teetered on a small point- both opposites were pressed against her, she was left unsure of how to react, how to feel about this. As these feelings roamed inside her, she felt divided, separated from herself- and now, as if another had come out to join in, another part of her. As she stared against the shade that pressed in against the circle of light she caught a silver flash amidst the darkness- her thin brow furrowing in mild inquiry.
"Ava…"
A tremble weakened her otherwise soft, soothing voice that contained a sort of melodious ring to it- it was pleasant to the ears and suited her soft-features well enough.
"Ava..."
Her voice was soft- whimsical.. it suited her looks. She seemed too.. good to belong to Gotham. A deep gnawing jealousy caught the depths of his throat.. A rage at his own loss screamed at him to silence her. To punish her, to mar her, to make her see the world through his eyes. To loose the peaceful innocence as he once had. Another part of him buried in the same hallow ache screamed out on her behalf His mind twisted over this again and again and again. A conflict raging inside of his core. A familiar tensing wrangled through his body the forced strain forcing his mind down a path of bi8tter worry. He wondered if she could recognize him. She looked familiar.. and that was never a good sign, An undercover cop? No.. a protester.. a journalist.. a rival gang-.. no wait.. a journalist..
The rage amplified, twisting through his body from the inside out, turning his gruff growl all the more feral- the noise stark against her former words only provoked his rage further. A grip tightened and metal but into flesh through leather gloves. He checked himself once more pulling into the shadows as he assumed her eyes slowly were adjusting to the brightness about her. If she could place his already distinguishable voice- then this game.. this idiotic roulette of chance would backfire on him. Black clad fingers slowly unfurled, each movement agony as it was released from its constraint.
Mismatched eyes flicked upwards.
"Youre pretty damn lucky... You must be a journalist."
The humor was lost on him, the knowledge that he had unwittingly hinted at who he was- but in the situation it was subtle enough that anyone could have made the comment. Somehow the action and familiarity calmed him- told him what to believe, in a sense. He found the rage subsiding once more to a well founded annoyance.
Now that a decision was made he couldnt leave her in the chair- but revealing himself would be.. twice as stupid as the risk he was already taking. A moments beat- and a plan eased across his acute thought process. A mischievous grin marked the nature.
He shifted his weight to one foot- a hand flicking to his side sending his blazer in a quick playful dance. A white clad hand disappeared in black silk. All at once in a flurry of motion his feet parted- an arm rose sharply and his entire body jerked backwards as the deafening sound of a gun echoed within the constrained room. The sound of ricochet was followed by a feminine scream.. and despite himself he laughed mockingly at her escaped surprise.
The room had gone dark as the light was shot out- the sickening smell of gunpowder and warm metal hung about the room in lingering trundles. He held his ground a moment longer despite no threat of being seen. He heard no sound- no voice. A steady low breathing.. in and out.. a thin wire of panic took him. A desperate sense of helplessness. Both hands rose to his head, the emotions and thoughts unwelcome- repulsive.. he spent his life avoiding such feelings!
He stumbled and found his shoulder against the cement wall once again. His pulse quickened, and his jaw clenched. The warm metal of the gun against his temple urged him to get a grip on himself..with an inhuman growl of disapproval he pocketed his gun once more- his will violently focused on blocking all emotions within him with the fine art of a professional. His attention turned with a new found inspiration for his annoyance. He approached the back of her chair. He growled words upon the darkness.
"Whats the matter with you? Dont ya know Gothams dangerous?"
He barked accusingly, not thinking much on the fact that even in the pitch black that he knew where the Victims chair was. Familiarity with past 'guests'.
A leather clad hand rested on the back support of the chair- his hands followed the wood down towards where her arms were held- and hesitated... it was likely best to leave her hands to last.. in case of a last minute sense of desperation- or denial to his aid.
His intentions altered, his direction turned. A hand moving to the nape of her neck- his eyes fell shut using his minds eye to visualize the females position- where her neck was, her hair.. long golden waves like honey caught in the vibrancy of summer. A naturally given scowl deepened within the male. He caught the back of the gag and fumbled to untie it through the thickness of his gloves- he would be thankful that he was unaware of her ability to 'sense' emotion. If he had suspected she could glimpse into his mind at that moment-.. coin or not.. shed be dead.
Tugging up a pant leg, he knelt behind her, grumbling beneath his breath all the while. Flicking open a pocket knife which had been mysteriously concealed he moved a hand down along her leg carefully searching for the thin plastic tie. A basic thought of how much easier it would have been to find it without his gloves twisted into a quiet need to take them off to find it-.. then a want to
The glaring image of what poorly resembled a human hand- flesh pulled over bone and warn muscle reprehended his thoughts so forcefully it startled himself into opening his eyes once again.the thoughts met with a 'snap' as the binding was cut. He moved more carefully to her hands. Torn between amused and annoyed by his fancies. Could someone blame him? He was a man- she was tied to a chair.. vulnerable and dripping with terror. It wasnt his sort to woo a girl and earn her.
A third and fourth snap signaled the end of his game and her freedom.
"You got a place to go?"
It was against the still and hesitant atmosphere, decorated with a cool through damp air- did the simplistic sound of a small object patting down against a smooth fabric, its fall through the air being caught. It was the recognizable sound of clenching leather that followed; the grinning silver coin lost amidst the leather bound fingers that wrapped about it. It would grind against her mind, she pleaded with herself to search for information, to recall something that might connect the missing links that would reveal this man's true self; she read and researched the crimes of gotham and their doers, she knew the names of each lead crime-king within the walls of gotham and it was a mere question if this man was an upper criminal under the hand of the main cheese, of in fact, if he was one of the upper crime criminals that led the gangs that plagued the streets like rats, chewing and gnawing at the goodness still left in gotham. It was an answer that evaded her, she was thrown into personal debate because of the polar opposites that fought inside the man; as if fire and ice, both at a constant- attempting to snuff out the opposing force.
"Youre pretty damn lucky... You must be a journalist."
As he named her, she felt herself become sick; she wrote under an alias, a male name in the hopes it would conceal her true self. It astonished her, unable to answer where she had gone wrong, how he knew her for her profession because indeed she often was pegged as a photographer because of her camera companion, or an art student because of her eccentric choice of colors and fashions. A small quicken of breath, she felt her calmness being grinded down against the pressure of the individual which as she continued to focus on the shadows about her, caught a glimpse of movement and then blackness once more. At this trace she focused all the more, the silence becoming deafening.
A clap of thunder, of fire being unleashed from an ancient prison, a tight cell, a bullet round that shattered the light that hung above her head and at the same instant that the sound shredded the silence, each muscle inside her stiffened and tensed as if she had been struck instead, a small scream rang from her lips and she shut her eyes tight against the scene about her. It left her in a curious position, on instinct her body had attempt to curl up, her shoulders were brought backwards, wrists restrained against the chair still; the skin underneath the plastic restraint turned white under pressure, beginning to tear the first layer of flesh from the fast and unanticipated action. As it is the restraints about her ankles rode up the chair's legs a small length, allowing the upper region of her legs to rise from the bottom of the chair; in essence, she had jerked backwards in a mixture of shock and fear alike. A shower of glass pieces, a broken image, now became a jigsaw puzzle that was littered in a threatening pool about her whilst smaller pieces frosted her hair and clothing. As the familiar threatening silence fill the air once more, an echo of the man's laughter rumbled; her ocean-cast regard presenting itself with caution, like a small animal being hunted, peering out from the bush that it hid in, to see if the hunter had left.
She was left in the full embrace of the shade, which leap with blissful and devious excitement about the area where the light was once presence. It was evident that she was helpless, caught in a snare, in the corner and could do naught about the matter; panic and the sense of helplessness began to infect her, grow and mutate. It was a challenge though she forced herself to a calmer state, her muscles easing and her breathing leveling once more, though still laced with fear as it pushed in and out of her lungs.
A scuffing sound behind her caught her attention, a rush of emotions becoming noted from outside of her own, an expression of remorse surfaced across her features for a moment as she realized once more that she was radiating her own emotions; she hated it, regretted her ability to do to, she fear and loathed it all in one instant. It was as unwilling on her behalf as those who received it on the other end. It was in her knowledge and realization that she could use her talents to her advantage, though she had long lost the control over that aspect of herself- she lived in constant denial of her 'true' self, and thus lost it in turn; it still was very much alive inside of her, though now possessing mind of it's own it seems, she could do little less then predict such, or take note of the face after it had transpired.
"Whats the matter with you? Dont ya know Gothams dangerous?"
"I do."
As she voiced the two syllable response, her voice was but a whisper, trails of her fear still present. It was a simple response, though she knew naught of another response; she thought that the less she spoke, the less chance she had of further endangering herself and it would up her chances to agree- even if that chance was upped a small one percent, it was better then none at all.
As his hand touched her neck, a small and pathetic tremble vibrated through her entire being; it subsided the following second after, she knew he was no threat then, he told her such without words, and against his consent as he touched her, making full contact- a connection made. It was to her surprise that his hand slipped to the gag and untied the device that rested about her neck as if a scarf, a garment that she often wore. A crisp note of music caressed the silence; a knife opened and cut the bounds that restrained her, one by one until she sat no longer bond to the chair. It was with the acknowledgment that she he meant no harm at this stage did she find the strength in herself to gathered to her feet, stand and walk a pace or two away from the chair as if it meant to re-capture her at the next given moment. In the unfamiliar room, she stumbled with her second step over her own messenger bag that had been careless dropped when she was brought here; with a graceful ease she caught her balance before tripping.
"You got a place to go?"
She nodded her head, despite the motion would not be seen; having felt a goodness in this man, she did not fear him as she had once, she felt calm though remained alert to the strange environment about her.
"An apartment in southern gotham."
He had expected her to have a place- She was to finely dressed to be homeless. Though it was an attempt in figuring out why she was out by herself. A smile flicked across his lips once again. Her actions did remind him of his own upon a time. Fearless.. he believed that he was untouchable. And in many senses he was. Its always the simplest of actions that took down a hero. It didnt take long for his own eyes to start adjusting, though he had an advantage on her having been in the dark. Faint outlines already began to grow into sharper focus. He nodded in turn not caring if he could be seen.
"You think you can make it there without being mugged again?"
A curious sort of annoyed concern stole over him for the second time in the past few moments. His body stiffening but unmoving to aid her as she stumbled over the bag. His voice had been hauled out in a deeper tone, a frail attempt at being casual- though the very nature of the damaged voice made any sort of softness an impossibility. He had to have known who he was at this point. A hand clenched around a coin in a concealed pocket in some perverse form of security.
His choice had been made, and he couldnt go back from his decision now. He had to get her out of here, and the less theyre seen the better. He moved once more to her side- keeping an arms distance from her to make sure not to startle her by suddenly drawing to close to her or making his intentions thought to be otherwise. His free hand went idly to his lapel brushing off the soft fabric in a simple action of casualty, though the action was lost in the darkness, the cascading rippling of fabric caused a gentle hiss of movement. The sound if anything else would cue her to his location.
His hand reached out to touch the upper of her arm, and tugged her lightly in the direction of his former entrance. A fire escape that snaked in behind the building and out back to an open alleyway. It should be pretty empty at this point.. and if it wasnt hed make sure they didnt remember much when they came to. He nudged his head in the general direction of his intention and offered his arm- not caring if it would be taken or not.. or even seen for that matter. Teeth parted in speech.. lips void of a gapping hole along the males one fine features. He spoke oddly through partially tightened lips.
"Doors this way-"
It would have been amusing if he had realized, or her for that matter, that he was doing the very same thing. Keeping his words to a minimum to make him harder to place... though he had already spotted who she was. He knew of every cop and reporter in the district. He made it his business.. alias or not. A thirst to know who the batman was, lead most villains to lead the past time of obsessively following and researching each and every other authority figure.. A game of darts in the dark in hopes of hitting the center target.
He had started walking towards the door, his facial expression darkening upon the blackness at the inevitable thoughts of The Batman.. in his presence he had made his life a living hell.. had been part of his slipper slope into chaos. He supposed Two-Face should be thankful that he was there to give him the final shove into existence.. but Harvey Dent resented the vigilante... and both sides were bitter. In death he still held resentment towards the Dark Knight. The town was chaos.. even for the villains. He was no longer a rival to The Bats, but was now just another criminal in a cesspool. There was no satisfaction.
He paused as he reached the door and pushed the heavy metal frame open. Turning back to face the girl once more, he added as a second thought, the statement somewhere casted between humor and sick sincerity.
"Oh... and if any one asks- you were horribly brutalized."
It took her longer then one would expect, perhaps she had forgetting her grounds and knowledge that came with her profession- consumed with the once fear that she dripped of, once calm and able to think outside of her own well being- she knew then who stood in the shadows with her. It was in that instant that small things began to piece together in her mind, the coin, the rivaled emotions, the constant shadow that he stood in the protection of; protecting himself and the world there about him of his own existence, she thought for a lingering moment as she passed across such thoughts for a idle moment once she had regained balance. She then knelt for a moment, hand reaching in the dark for the bag that rested along her ankle; as she bent a few loose tresses of moonlight-blonde dangled free. Ava lifted the back of her hand to her cheek, wiping once on each side to brush away the damp tear trails, the strands of hair that had become dried against her skin and the free tresses tucked behind one ear. As she pulled the strap over her head to rest once more, then laid on her shoulder as she straighten her form upright once more. As she saw then, the faint outline of the man that stood a few paces from her.
"You think you can make it there without being mugged again?"
She watched him approach then, unconscious tendencies prevailing as she noted the folding sound of fabric near her as he stood to her side, a half pace behind her. A light touch against her upper arm, a touch texture with leather, she glanced down to his hand that rested there; she frowned on the thought of what the man had went though; she had heard the tale, who in gotham did not? As she returned her regard, to where his eyes should be within the darkness of the room, a small smile caressed across her lips as she saw the curve of his head move in one direction and then his arm offered to her. It was a curious, though appreciated, as she did not pull from his touch nor fear what she felt as he made contact once more. It was appreciated, she could have died, and although it was left to chance, she knew it was his nature nonetheless, it was a part of him and it is undeniable fact- all people have different faces of themselves, she as well knew such to be true. Ava placed her hand on his arm, accepting the gesture as he led her to the door and opened the large metal door to the alleyway which followed through it.
It was a relief to see the evening canvas stretching out overhead as she stepped out from the shade inside the room, through the exit, her hand slipping from his arm as she left through the door. She hesitated for a moment, of course, most would run then- as fast as one could travel in fact, away from the unknown building. She hesitated; one hand poking into the pocket of her pants as she then turned the door as it began to close, stepping forward to tug on the level to nudge it to remain open. A small tilt of her head as she look in against the shade where the crime lord stood; it was foolish to remain here, considering she knew who he was and what he was capable of. She offered a small smile,
""Oh... and if any one asks- you were horribly brutalized."
"Thank you- Harvey."
She then tossed a small coin with her thumb, a clean and unmarred coin through the opening of the door; she thought that he would understand the gist. It was the man, Harvey Dent, that she met this evening and not the other side, the shadow that followed in his footsteps, sharing the position of one. In light of knowing she was perhaps pushing her 'luck' she turned and began on a quickened walk home; anticipating the sight of home once more, the thought of a new article about a particular crime lord brought a small smile to her face. It was not the monster that people told her of, which she met today, a man of two polar opposites that answered to the call of chance and naught else. It was a wonder, that one side had not snuffed the other out- indeed two personalities can only occupy the same body for an extent of time before one loses the battle. It was tragic what befell most of those in gotham, it felt as if there were none left unmarred, untouched with the taint to which the city played the role of host for.
It was simply, just another day in gotham.
The nights air had grown more chill even from his brief stint indoors- and already the street lights had flickered into life, as all form of daylight had fully died, being replaced by the thick veil of royal velvet. Gothams nights were both as beautiful as they were deadly. It was a shame more people couldnt enjoy its welcome as fearlessly as the criminals did. The city in its Gothic architecture came to life if shadows and softly illuminating moonlight. It added a degree of appreciation to the sharp angles and casting of shadows. Not that many people appreciated architecture.
A set of eyes caught the stars illumination within their crystal depths and reflected back at him with such amused warmth that it quite literally caught him off guard. The sight of such beauty causing him to haul back further into the shadows. He stood giving her a dubious look of question. He hadnt expected her to wait- nor turn to approach him. He had set her free.. she had been imprisoned. The logical reaction would have been to run, as far and as fast as humanly possible.
Soft angles tilted upwards, her statue a good hand span beneath his own. Instinctively his head tilted backwards glancing down at her over his own features, his lips twisting into a disdainful snarl, as if she were about to throw a venomous insult at him instead of casual words. The moonlight caught the softs of her cheek bones illuminating her in an eerie blue light, the golden hair holding a silver hue in the mysterious time of day.. Soft ruby lips pulled into a sincere smile.
"Thank you- Harvey."
'The name-s...'
The sentence sparked upon his mind with a degree of bitter earnest- but slowed upon itself, cutting off and stopping as suddenly as it had started mid-word... the usual instinctive response yo being called by his old identity dieing upon his voice. Lost, and unheard upon the nights refreshing breath. He wasnt even sure if his words had been spoken aloud or remained sharp within his mind.. he doubted he could find his own voice if he wanted to.
The coin left her fingers and invading his cocoon of shadow, hit the center of his blazer, bounding off the fabric it plummeted once more into the shadow falling along his form. His hand- the one he usually used to catch his own coins, had sharply rose as if to instinctively catch the melded piece of metal- but had halted, frozen in mid catch. His being refusing to catch the thing. The actions- the very coin, even if it was not his own, was tied to a forceful self created inability to accept such symbolism without first leaving his choices to a game. To accept the coin freely would have shown a side- a true side.. it would have lied to his own character. It would have betrayed both. Even as the thing plummeted, he found himself glad that the thing gave off no sound of contact with the cement beneath his feet. Somehow not wanting the sound to catch and be heard, to betray his half performed actions. The soft 'thunk' of the object hit the top of a dress shoe.
After a beat of awkwardly holding his position, still in an illusive state of disbelief of this females unusual actions, it slowly dawned on him that his hand was half extended by his side.. like a child waving awkwardly in farewell. Eyes fell and focused through the darkness, the foot raised with a degree of balance, and the coin was gathered. Turning it over, looking at both sides unmarred, it was strange to see the object untainted. He had so long ago destroyed his keepsake, and hadnt bothered looking at others since.
He looked at the simple object with mixed emotions (obviously). He was unsure of how to take the gesture. Logic told him he should be enraged.. should correct the situation that had long ago gotten out of his normal boundaries. He fingered the coin through the protection of leather, the game of chance melding over his mind at his two choices with the female.. he could let her walk away, or he could silence her before she had fully slipped from his sight. His eyes rose to catch the tail glimpse of silken hair dancing in the lines of moon chilled ice. Without turning his gaze, he rolled his shoulders. A flick of the thumb and the coin danced in front of him, a predictable dance. He watched her retreat the decision upon his mind before her coin was even flipped...
and before his black clad hand had snapped the coin violently from the air in a broad swing he knew which side would be shown.. Her coin was nothing but luck.
Pulling air through his front teeth in a curious action of decided indifference, he turned into the building once more to let her leave into the night, from his prison, from the filth of Gotham. His mind twisting over the nights events even before they had come to a conclusion.. both sides dwelling on different aspects, but each held with just as much worth as the other.
A sharp grin, and violent eyes drew over the mental image of finely curved swing of youthful hips. She was young- by a number of years, and it showed in all the best fashions upon her all to feminine curves. Soft unmarred gently colored flesh, covered every inch of her frame, begging to be touched. A gloved hand clenched at his side- the dull burning along his arm in memory of her soft touch. She had not denied him.. but had smiled upon his gesture. The innocent gesture as cruel as putting meat in front of a starved beast.
But there had been something else.. a whisper of pity had placed itself upon his mind.. a subconscious will that he knew wasnt his own.. no- no, not pity.. sympathy. Understanding. It turned his stomach in a sickening sense. Not of disgust, but of incomprehension, and the pure twisted kindness that was just as appreciated as it was cruel.. like telling a terminally ill patient coming to terms and realizing they had lead a good life.
The coin twisted over his knuckles in the recesses of the building- the thugs eying him ruefully as he passed which he promptly ignored. His exterior demeanor once more as it had been. But he allowed himself the pleasantry to dwell on brief moments of light within Gotham. She had not pulled away from him. He was delusional, a man, a fool. A tale of beauty and the-...
It was anything but just another day in Gotham.