Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC. I have written a fanfic in a while, so input is very much appreciated.
She loved the familiar; after all she was a creature of habit. Some may have considered the same routine, day after day, tedious, boring even, but not her. The same walk to work every morning, arriving at her office at exactly 7 am, the same paper work, and she loved it, all of it. Each day she closely examined hundreds of documents, many of which were written only in languages that had long been dead to the world. It was these documents that kept her satisfied in her work, in her life. Each document was completely different then any other, they were filled with different ideas, philosophies, histories, and she loved all of them. She had been working in the archives of Gotham city for about three years, and she loved her job, and the familiarity of everything about it, except what each document taught her, each document was a new learning opportunity.
Katya believed that her love of structured routine and the simply familiar was all based around her fears of the unfamiliar. It was the unfamiliar country of Chechnya that had taken her parents from her. If they had only stayed in St. Petersburg they would have still been alive today. Although, she would have never come to Gotham, if her parents had not died that day, twelve years ago. It was their death that drove her to the strange city of Gotham, that labyrinth of turmoil. But she loved the strangeness of the city, it was different from , but in so many ways it was similar. The dark mystery of the city fascinated her; the inner workings of the criminal masterminds who scurried through the back alleyways and underground systems had always sparked her curiosity.
The criminals reminded her of the precious documents she studied every day. Each criminal was different, unique, and as such they each had different desires and techniques. Yes it was true they all sought to destroy Gotham, in one way or another, but the means were always different then the desired end. Every couple of months a new evil genius rose to the surface, and each time they were beaten down by the mysterious caped crusader, the batman. But now the tides were turning, the mobs were frustrated with this infamous mercenary. In their frustration, they turned to a character they would never understand, a character whose very mind was as sharp as the knife he wielded, a mind who would seek not only to destroy the batman, but the city that had spawned him.
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The air bit at her flesh as she left the archives for the day. The wind was so cold that evening, but it was nothing she hadn't already experienced. The streets of had been far colder, and Chechnya had been equally as cold but far more forbidding.
The streetlights came on as the sun set behind the old warehouses she passed. As she glanced at the she could see what was left of the sun through the broken glass panes. It all looked so decrepit, like so many other parts of Gotham, and she wondered how a city so full of life and activity looked so dead.
As she unlocked the front door of her apartment she heard the familiar chatter of her cat waiting to be fed, and through the darkness she could see the usual red light blinking from her answering machine.
She kicked her black maryjane's off and tossed her keys on the small table in her foyer. She hit the play button on her machine as she flipped through the mail she had shoved into her purse. It was the usual messages: one from her aunt wondering why she hadn't called in a few days, one from her friend Chloe about that sketchy investment banker she had gone on a date with the Friday past and the one from her credit car company, still trying to convince her to increase her limit.
Katya deleted all of them before heading into her bedroom to change. As nice as all her fancy clothes were, being at home meant pajama pants and sweatshirts.
//\\//\\//
She had just turned out the lamp beside her bed before she remembered that the dry cleaning needed to be picked up. She turned on the light to jot down the night on the pack of post it's by her bed. She would walk by the dry cleaner's tomorrow after work and pick it up.
How would she possibly fathom that just picking up her dry cleaning would drag her into the dark underworld of Gotham city, where greedy eyes glittered and there projected were the sickest ideas known to mankind, ideas that would make blood boil and toes curl.
Well it's a start, please let me know what you think, all reviews are welcome. I'd really appreciate input on the direction so far before I write a second chapter.