Okay, listen. This is my first fanfic, instructive criticism always excepted. And a wise man once told me "You don't have anything nice to say, DON'T SAY IT AT ALL!" Deal?
BTW- I don't own Gotham, the Penguin, but I own my OCCs okay?
The chill of night had finally arrived. It blanketed the quiet city and covered the busy roads. The moon replaced the sun and for the first time in my life, they felt free. Like bird finally being able to stretch its wings just after hatching.
They were excited, that they couldn't hide. A small group of teens gathered in an alley. The oldest seventeen, the youngest twelve; each were gifted beyond others. There were only seven of them and they were ready for anything the night could throw at them, well, almost everything.
A girl who looked around fourteen, she had electric blue hair that was tied into a braid that was slung over her shoulder, a deep tan and hazel eyes. She wore a blue frilly tank top partially hidden by a brown jacket. She wore black jeans and boots and at her side was a dagger, not that she needed it. She was a telepath, able to read someone's/ something's mind.
Next to her stood a muscular boy around seventeen. He had a pointed chin and a thin scar overlapping his left eye. He had a deep color blue painted over his eyes. He had a light tan with short-cropped blond hair that framed his face. He carried two swords sheathed at his sides, he wasn't likely to use them but he always did. His ability to create light in the darkest of hours didn't really come in handy when in fights.
To his left was a cocky black haired fifteen-year old. His hair fell the mid-neck area and he had bangs that were swiped to the side to reveal sparkling jade green eyes. He wore a black t-shirt underneath dark grey hoodie, worn sneakers that were falling apart. He sported a bow and quiver over flowing with arrows. It was the perfect weapon for him. He was quick, too quick for the human eye to comprehend. That was his skill, faster than light, quicker than a speeding bullet.
He was looking at a pretty red haired girl. She looked the most normal of the group. Pale skin with freckles and intense eyes the color of limes. Her eyelashes were long and tapped gently against her face when she blinked. She looked fourteen, and didn't carry a weapon. She used her wits to out smart her enemy instead of violence; she relied more on her looks and brain that any blade or bow. Her gift was sucking the life force out of anyone she touches. To protect her friends she wore black gloves and over coat in the tense cold of the night air.
She glanced at a girl beside her. This girl had strange purple hair that curled at her shoulders. She had a widows' peek and wore mainly black. She held a whip that glinted in the moonlight. She knew how to use it two. She was quick the draw and never missed. Her power over gravity also helped pin her opponents down. She didn't call herself the black widow for nothing. Her eyes were the color of lilacs; she looked about seventeen and wore a permanent scowl etched on to her face.
She glared at the two facing her who quickly backed out of her radius. They were clearly twins. Each with thin wavy white hair that suck out against the blackness of the night. They had crisp green eyes that had a small sparkle in them, a mischievous glimmer. They wore pitch black trench coats and dark grey t-shirts. Jeans that were tucked into lace-up boots that went to their knee caps. Concealed inside their coats were twelve hunting knives each. They had flawless aim and the fact that they could manipulate electricity made the experiences of getting hit with one of the knives even more shocking.
Together they formed the most unlikeliest of families. They watched each others back and kept out of trouble, hiding under the radar. They ran from government facilities who want to dissect, experiment, and torture them. This would be the first time in months, they were going into the city world. They were on the bounder of Gotham city and were getting ready to go get some supplies.
"Alright," The muscular boy said. He had a deep voice that sounded commanding. His name was Ethan, and he acted as leader of their little group. "Everyone know what to get?" He asked as he past out a few crumpled bills.
"Uh," One of the twins said as he accepted the dollars. He had an average pitched voice but when he said 'uh' his voice kicked up a few notches. His name was Nick; he and his brother, James, sometime got mixed up.
"Just stick with me brother, " James said. They even sounded the same, which just made it harder to tell them apart.
And with that, the group split up. The twins headed for a gas station. They strolled the aisles telling jokes and making each other laugh. Until finally they had what they needed. They walked over to the cashier only to find someone had beaten them to it. A round bodied man in a tuxedo and top hat carrying an umbrella along with a gun.
The gun was pointed at the cashier and forcing him to empty his money into a bag.
"Excuse me," James said tapping the man on the shoulder. He whipped around and pointed the gun on Nick.
"What did you say kid?" He asked threatening.
The brothers looked at each other and smiled. "Actually," Nick said in a false but convincing British accent, "It was my dear brother here you said something."
"Yes," James said hopping into the conversation. The gun levitated between them, unsure of which one to shot.
"And what did your brother want to say?" Turning his head on James while his hand drifted towards Nick.
"I was just wondering how much your going to let the man behind the counter keep," James said looking straight into the cold black eyes hidden underneath horn rimmed glasses.
"Why?" The man asked.
"Because we were hoping to do the same thing to him!" James said. Then Nick added, "Poor soul, wonder how hard your boss will hit you for letting all that dough get away." That made the man laugh. It sounded more of a quack than a laugh.
"I like you kids," The man said lowering his gun as James slowly let go of one of his knives. He would have taken matters into his own hands if Nick were shot, or worse...
"The name's Penguin," He said offering them a gloved hand.
"Excellent name, mate. The name's Ben and that's Jerry." Nick had read the names off a pint of ice cream thrown carelessly into a bin labeled 'nestle.'
"You must be new in town boys." The brothers glanced at each other.
"Why, might you think that, Penguin?" Nick asked doing a terrible job at keeping the curiosity out of his voice.
The gun flew back to Nick's shoulder and James hand gripped the hilt of a knife. "Because you can't fool the Penguin that easily." the gunshot echoed around them. James reacted. He didn't even bother with the knife, he jumped on the Penguin, sparks arching off his fingers.
He was mad. Eventually the electricity made the jerk fall to the ground unconscious. That's when he knew enough was enough. He darted to his brother's side. "Your going to be okay Nick," He kept repeating. He ran over to the abandon counter, the cashier had ran for his life while the twins had distracted them.
He yanked up the phone and dialed a simple number that everyone knew, 911.