AN: I do not own any of the Batman characters, settings, or whatever.
Chapter One - Tall Dark Handsome Stranger
Gotham City.
It was one hell of a place. Evelyn Rivers had lived there all of her life. All 20 years of it. The gray sky was cast overhead, and she was on her way to run some errands. New clothes and shoes were in order and she was on her way to the bank.
The bank held new meanings nowadays, with the Joker running rampant through the city streets. But he was rumored to dress like a clown, so as long as she kept a distance from anyone dressed in a purple jacket and green hair, Evelyn reasoned that it was unlikely she would run across any real danger.
But she usually ignored the news. She had come to hate it. It brought unpleasant mornings and she needed her focus to be on her schoolwork and her job. She was working and studying to own her own bakery. She was going to become one of the best in the business, and her penchant for bringing others to her way of thinking was a...useful skill.
And it wasn't because she was bitchy, or alluring attractive.
Though she was, of course. Not in a way that would cause heads to turn as she passed by, but in the way that when she spoke, her quiet mannerisms and soothing voice made one want to look twice. To listen to what she spoke.
Evelyn was petite. She was an inch or so over five feet in stature, but usually wore heels to accomodate her desire for a few more inches to her person. She was curvy in all the right places, but not so that her cleavage was a point of perpetual stares. Her legs were well toned from the practice of wearing high heels and good genes, but were usually bare enough so that she could accentuate that trait with skirts short enough to draw attention, but keep self-respect.
Her skirt today was black and snugged tightly against her thighs. She wore a white short sleeved button up shirt that was left open enough to show the swell of her breasts, but was also covered by a thin black and white pinstriped corset top, cinched with a long row of respectable buttons.
However, rain was a probability, so a warm black polyester trench coat completed her attire. It was lined with a silky white interior and her own hand sewn pockets for various pocketed items.
She had foregone the hair accessories and had worn her wavy layered brown hair down. Her hazel eyes were underlined in black, and shadowed with emerald green. Her make-up was light, as she routinely applied as such on rainy days like this.
Her purse was black leather, not too expensive, and used more for functionality than for show. It was almost like a small tote.
And as she stood on the sidewalk, waiting for the light to allow pedestrians to pass, she was too preoccupied with her plans for the day to notice the group of men that were now waiting with her.
Evelyn's thoughts drifted to her mother. She had died on a rainy day. And as much as that should have bothered her, she didn't mind the overcast weather. She embraced it, and suddenly wished the heaven's would poor down upon her with violent air.
It would match her suddenly tumultous thoughts. She suddenly felt useless. Her eyes dimly roved over the people hurrying all around her and blanched at the thought that she would forever be part of a mass that was so crammed together, yet so very alone. She harshly ignored a giggling couple across the street and rolled her eyes.
Their laughing was quaint, and fake. It was a proper expression of amusement that didn't reach the eyes. Eyeing the obvious "boyfriend" she frowned in distaste as she made a quick analysis of him. He was the epitome of prim and proper. Not to be confused with polite and chivalrous. And Evelyn was sick of powdry men who were of great talk and little action. She was bored with the idea of dating college boys and wished in a pissy way that time would accelerate and propel her into areas where she could meet men who...
Changed things. Who made things. That did things that made her feel worthy of herself. She knew she would live a lonely life if she couldn't find someone who put the pump in her bloodflow. Someone who would make her feel alive instead of living.
Evelyn wondered when that day would come, when the gravity of her world would collide with someone with a yearning for...spontaneity that matched her own.
Her thoughts rushed quickly within her mind as she yearned and felt her wishes swim through her conscious before she dismissed them as girlishly ridiculous. Her mind started calculating new recipes ideas for her soon to be business and she let her eyes search around her for ideas.
Which turned her quick eyes to those around her. There were some security guards about her and some businessmen, whom were either chatting on cell phones or reading papers while juggling coffee and briefcases. The security guard to her left caught her attention.
He was tall.
He quite literally would tower over her if he chose to lean in closer. His uniform was gray, and it crossed her mind he was probably headed to the bank. His jacket sleeve read "Gotham City Bank" and immediately verified what she assumed.
She cocked her head a bit and took more of him in. She had an appreciation for men who towered over her. Of course, with her size, it wasn't very rare.
His hair was either short or pulled underneath his hat. From what she could see of the slight tendrils that escaped, they were dirty blonde. His complexion was somewhat fair, slightly weathered, but it was the scar on the side of his face that drew her attention. It jaggedly continued the right side of his face from what she could see. The scar was horrendous and she instantly wondered where he got it.
She thought of her own scar.
His face was still decidedly handsome. His eyes were dark, so dark, from where she stood she couldn't tell what color they were. Her eyes travelled down his lithe frame and then back up again to see that he had turned towards her.
It looked as though his shoulders were broad from her side profile of him and the uniform fit him well. His body was lean and she wished his uniform was short sleeved, for she was sure she could then verify the muscle definition in his arms.
But when her eyes met his her eyebrow immediately piqued in interest. He was staring directly into her eyes. People didn't usually look back at her when she stared them down. The intensity of her gaze wasn't so severe to be rude, but just firm enough to establish curiosity.
Nonetheless. People generally looked away.
He didn't. His face was a cool mask of thoughts processing as she eyed him.
The matching scar on the other side of his face caused her to break eye contact first. The matching scar was just as severe as its twin.
He watched her purse her lips slightly in consideration, then her facial features softened slightly and she presented him with a small shy grin.
Interesting. And it was for the both of them.
More so for him though she didn't quite know it.
She guessed he wasn't used to girls giving him appraising looks and she wondered how strong he was to be able to look in the mirror every day and go about his business, scars and -
What? Her eyes travelled down his chest, where a neon red circle started to align itself in the center of where his heart would be.
Evelyn's eyes widened considerably. Was someone trying to kill him? Why? She was going to watch him die before her eyes.
If she didn't stop standing there and move, he was going to die. If she didn't do something soon, he was going to die because of her inaction.
As the abrupt realization hit her in full force her arms reached towards him as she pivoted on her high heels.
Her purse flew from her shoulder in slow motion and travelled down her arms that were trying to push him away. She no longer saw his face. Just the deadly red circle of red that was signifying a bloody end.
The fingertips of her left hand hit connected with his upper right arm first. Slowly, so very slowly her right hand collided with his chest, covering his heart, and she felt an inhuman surge of adrenaline course through her, empowering the force of her slender arms with enough strength to move the man beside her.
She knew that if her reflexes and adrenaline had not have aided her, there would have been no way she could made his towering figure budge.
And yet, she moved him out of the line of fire. Her purse swinging towards him just as the bullet skimmed over the top of her arm in a burning arrow of fire, and collided with flesh covering her left forearm.
Then everything sped up very quickly.
White hot pain shot up her outstretched arms and she dropped her purse as she crumpled to the ground, clutching her hands together under her jaw as she winced sharply at the blood that was falling freely from her wounds. Gunfire erupted all around her and she reflexively brought up her hands to cover her ears as she ducked.
More bullets whizzed by and she panicked. Her eyes opened and seeing her bag in front of her, she snatched it and scampered out of the way. She shot between the uniformed security guard's legs and dashed into the wall behind them, before rounding the corner of the wall into an alleyway. She lurched through the garbage cans and dumpsters, running for her life.
The blood was pounding far too loudly in her ears to hear the footsteps running after her.
Pain flared in the back of her head, and then her vision blurred, and then she knew no more.
