Alright, so this is just a pilot for an idea I had. I don't know if it will fly with the FF populous because I haven't seen this kind of pairing before but I got really attached to the idea so I hope you all like it! I don't know how often I will update this story and I know the chapters will be shorter in length than my usual chapters but please let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for my OC.
"Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels." - Francisco de Goya
"No p-p-please!" The man pleaded, blubbering like an idiot through his tears. They we're always this helpless at this point. Feeling the pressure of my blade against their temple always made them squeamish. "I will do anything. I have money!" His voice sounded excited as my eyes darted to his at the offer of money. He thinks he found his way out of his unchangeable death. "I can give you tons of money."
I smirked and looked away from him. He was lying down on a bench in the middle of the lobby of an abandoned apartment building. It was one of the few buildings that The Joker had oh-so-kindly blown up, but this one still had some solid foundation so the first few levels were still in decent condition; it was sterile enough. "Money cannot give those girls their lives back, now can they Mr. Meyers?" His eyes opened wide and he started to cry again. Pathetic.
"Stop crying. You make yourself look like an idiot. Tell me why. Why those little girls?" He sniffed back the last few tears, fear still in his eyes.
"I-I-I c-c-can't help myself. I'm s-s-sorry! I'm a monster." I smiled; I love hearing them come to their revelations, their realizations that they were a monster and a slave to their desires that they couldn't stop, just like me. I let my blade trace along the man's jaw line.
"You see Mr. Meyers—"
"James." He interrupted me to tell me him name. Does he think that will help me become attached to who he is if he tells me his first name? I stared at him with a blank stare, I couldn't help but feel pity for his lack of backbone; how could a man like this kill so many?
"James." I paused, smiling at him. "I too am a monster and I just can't…help…myself" My blade fell to his throat, I saw him swallow long and hard. "Think about it from my perspective James. You're a child molester and you murder them afterwards. I would be a bad person if I let you leave, who's to say you won't do it again? So if I'm faced with a decision to either leave this place and let two evil's back into the world or one, what am I going to chose?" He opened his mouth but I put my blade over his lips. "What would you choose? And be honest, Mr. Meyers. I don't like dishonest answers."
I heard him gulp down the emptiness in his mouth. "One." He whispered.
"Sorry, I didn't quite hear you."
"Wa-Wa-One." I nodded my head as I heard him louder this time.
"Ah yes, one. Good choice." With those last words I sliced his throat and slowly watched his bleed out, a grin growing across my face. It was these moments that I had to savor, watching them slowly grow colder and darker as their last bit of life left their body.
I dropped my weight onto our couch, tired from my earlier excursion. I heard the tap run in the bathroom and Selina walked out of the room moments after. "You're back late." She said to me, only glancing towards my direction through her peripherals. I shrugged.
"Ran into trouble on my way home. Had to take a longer route." I saw her body go rigid and I smiled. I always liked putting her on edge, even if it wasn't necessary. "Don't worry, nobody saw me. It was just him again, cutting off my escape route." She scowled.
"You run it too close with him sometimes. He's a cop! You may think you know him from your childhood, but this city has a way of stealing the innocence away from children as they grow up." It always made me smile when she showed that she cared for me in her own way. I groaned and stood up from the couch, stretching my muscles when I stood up.
"Here." I said as I tossed a wallet, keys, watch and a few pieces of jewelry onto the table. "We could probably find the Benz that man had if we wanted to go for a midnight stroll." I paused as I stared at the items on the table. I couldn't help but think if that was all that really mattered about our lives? What we posses? I sighed as I saw the face of the man I had just killed that night; I let out a dark laugh. "Oh and here are his fingerprints, free for your disposal." Selina smiled at me as she accepted my trophy. I always took the fingerprints of my victim's, it was more so for Selina to use but she always gave them back afterwards. I didn't know why fingerprints, there was never a really solidified reason to it; it was just something of convenience.
The other part of me, the side that held my logical moral compass, always tried to convince me that I took their fingerprints for other reasons. It a city like Gotham, fingerprints to a wealthy person could mean anything. It could mean I could access your bank, your home, and your work. With those simple pieces of identity, I could continue destroying their lives after death like they had done so many others. It just gave that added sense of accomplishment, like I truly ruined their lives and their legacy. Besides, it was a nice way to remember them by.
It was always hard for me to pick a trophy, most killers chose something that helps relate to what they love the most about killing another person. For some it's blood, for others it's a body part that has been hacked off. Selina wouldn't let me bring back a jar of blood or a dismembered body part so that was never an option. As for what I love most, it's the moment when they realize that it's all over, what trophy could I savor from that? I remembered their face in my head, so there was no use of a photo. So I always figured if Selina would influence me on what not to take back home, there was no reason she could influence what I should bring back.
"Don't you ever find it funny how it takes them losing their own life to see what horrible and horrendous things they've done on their own? They always beg at that point…always try to bribe me with money, like it's what I'm after." My voice was empty and hollow, it always sounded like this when I talked about the people I killed.
Selina opened her mouth but paused before any sound came out. "Um…" I knew she was thinking about her answer. I always liked that about her and I honestly think that's why our weird relationship always worked out so well. I hated people who didn't think through their actions, didn't think of how they would effect others; they were mindless and selfish people. But Selina wasn't like that, she attempted to act that way at times but it was more out of frustration then because that's what she actually wanted to do. "No." She scrunched her face as she shrugged quickly. "Not really. Besides, I like their money. You're the serial killer. I'm pretty sure enjoying the action of killing others is part of that criteria." I smirked and let out a small laugh.
"You know I don't like do—"
"You like it. I've seen you in the act and I have never seen the passion you have during that moment in anything else you do, not even me." She always brought it back to us. I couldn't help but growl.
"Selina…I told you." I walked over to her and grabbed her lightly by the shoulders, forcing her to look into my eyes. "I love you, but what we have, or at least what I have for you, is platonic. I'm sorry." She slightly pouted and looked at me. God damnit, why does she have to look at me like that? "Stop it." I said in my 'grouchy' voice, as Selina likes to call it.
"Stop what?" She looked at me and tried to seduce me with her luscious red lips and bright eyes. I sighed and looked away.
"You know what, now stop it." I paused but then quickly changed the subject before we got into another fight. "How's the manor job going? Getting any closer to what Dagget wants you to get?" She would never tell me anything about her missions, just like I would never tell her who my next target was, but I never liked the idea of her working for Dagget; I didn't trust the man.
"It's alright. I'm slowly getting more familiar with the place. There's only one maid that takes the food up to Bruce's wing, I just need to be there long enough to be trusted with that job." I shook my head, the longer she waited meant the more hold Dagget would have on her and I didn't like people having control over my things.
"I could off her." Selina scowled and sighed heavily, pushing away from me.
"Stop talking about death like it's so easy for you to accept. Would you honestly be happy if you died tomorrow? I know you Erin! You act like you're okay with it all because if you don't then people will see the real you. Stop acting like that around me, it makes me sick." I glared at her through partially lidded eyes. Part of me knew she was right but how was I supposed to stop?
I had been this way my whole life; I was left to live in the streets when my father was viciously killed when I was 9. I brought myself up in a world full of crime, death and brutality, so I did what I had to do to survive; I killed those who were ready to kill me. It helped that when I was young, I was a diagnosed sociopath and ever since I can remember I felt the urge to kill.
It always starts off with animals, at least that's what I'm told but I'm not your everyday sociopath, so my upbringing into this role is slightly different. I grew up in a broken home, like most children of Gotham. My father beat/raped my mother on a daily/weekly basis, not having the decency to hide is from his only child's eyes. He would hit her in front of me, remove her clothing and fuck her in the kitchen as I would be cooking them dinner. It took me awhile to notice that this wasn't the life every child had growing up.
I was a quiet youth, I kept to myself mostly and rarely talked to people I didn't know. I never understood why people tried to be nice to those they didn't care about, I never understood why they were so dumb and I, to this day, don't care to understand why people do the things they do. I've accepted the fact that everyone has the ability to do good or do bad, it's just a matter of perspective as to what good and bad is that get's people in trouble.
Even though I kill other human's as a hobby and source of income, doesn't mean I enjoy killing them. Yes, I have a power complex that makes me enjoy the moment before death, but that isn't all that makes a serial killer. I just know that if I don't kill sooner or later and give into that urge, then I will end someone's life who doesn't deserve it, but as I child I didn't truly understand the line between good and bad; until my mother died.
I was 7 when my father finally beat the life out of her, I was there when it happened and all I remember was looking at her, helpless, as she took her last breath. How, why or where it happened was all blocked from my memory; I doubt I even remember on a subconscious level. Looking back at that time though, I'm sure that was the day my mind snapped and I started to have a thirst for vengeance for those who couldn't protect themselves; I felt the need to protect the helpless and the harmless.
For years I plotted my first kill, what stopped me from executing my plans earlier was my struggle with moral reasoning; which I find is a useless trait of mine for the most part. Sure, my father was a monster for doing what he did to my mother, but wouldn't I become a monster too for killing him? Was a life for a life really valid? Could someone justify murder so easily? Luckily, the night my father died, I was given the catalyst I needed to ignite the fire inside of me and end the miserable man's life, but unlike my mother's death, I remembered my father's perfectly fine.
He was drunk off his rocker and looking for a good night, but with my mother gone he would usually go out and find a pretty prostitute; men like him always did. But with the recession and his hours getting severely cut at work, most likely to do with his drinking, there wasn't much money to go around and there defiantly wasn't enough money for a prostitute budget. That's when he first laid eyes on me, the way he looked at me and desired me made my skin crawl; the memory is the only thing that reminds me what fear can feel like.
I ran for my life and ended up in the kitchen with my sluggish and drunk father following me, beckoning my name. I grabbed a paring knife that was on the counter and held it out in front of my own body, readying myself for my father's attack. The only good thing that came from me seeing my mother get raped multiple times, a very small but significant positive side, was that I knew how to defend myself against his advances; I knew them all. He walked into the kitchen and laughed, his jowls and multiple chins almost flowed smoothly as I watched them intently.
"You're going to kill me? Like a did your cunt mother?" He boomed with laughter. "You don't have it in ya' kid." That was all I needed to light the fire and give me the will to lunge at my father and stab him in the throat, plunging my knife deep. I pulled the knife out and blood sprayed everywhere as he grabbed me by the throat. I started to stab his hands sporadically and when he finally dropped me, I took the knife and with one quick thrust, I impaled his crotch. I knew he was helpless at that point, when he was lying on the ground, writhing in pain. But I just watched him, my eyes never leaving his, as he slowly died on the kitchen floor in his own blood. "Help." He pleaded, like they always did but I just smiled.
"Go fuck yourself." I left the kitchen and quickly packed a bag. Taking anything of value in the house, anything that I could use to live on the streets or sell to others. Alcohol was the first thing I took, it was a common item of desire in Gotham, then clothes and finally any money, jewelry and car keys I could find.
"Erin?" Selina's voice brought me back to the Gotham I knew now. I looked up at her to see the familiar look of concern in her eyes. It wasn't the first time I blacked out and relived my memories. I felt an emptiness grow inside of me, looking down at the table I saw the car keys I had taken from my most recent victim. Grabbing them, I walked towards the door.
"Use his credit card and get yourself something nice. Same with Holly, okay? I'm going for a joy ride." I forced a smile towards Selina but I knew she wouldn't buy it, just accept it, which is all I ever asked for her to do. I never asked her to like me or love me, just tolerate and accept me for the monster I am.
So please Review! Let me know what you think and if you would like to see this story continue. It is starting off as Selina/OFC and will slowly turn into a Blake/OFC.
Thank you for reading and I hope to hear from you all soon :D
Narrie