I own nothing related to Dark KNight/ or Batman. I only own my Charactor Melanie Ryder.
Hey people, this is just a quick chapter just introducing everything, and the following chapters will definately be longer so no worries! :) Please review! I love advice! Enjoy.
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It's Dark and cold. I'm running down an alley and I feel the panic rising in me. I know he is watching me. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and as I turn a corner, skidding in putrid garbage, I see the street ahead. Only a few hundred yards away. I hear him start to laugh, a loud cackle that sinks your stomach because you don't know how someone so evil can be laughing so happily. I reach the street, and am about to flag a taxi when I feel a gloved hand on my shoulder.
"Gotcha." His happy voice says.
I wake up covered in sweat. The nightmare still trying to cling to my thoughts and I am afraid. I have never met the Joker, nor do I want to. But for the past two weeks, I have had the same dream over and over again.
I look at my bedside table. 3 AM.
I try and settle down, but my mind is to anxious to do anything but worry and think about why I keep having the dream. So after a few minutes I give up, and decide comfort food is what I need.
I head to my shabby little kitchen, and make myself a stale peanut butter sandwich. The light flickers as I eat, and I look at my small piggy bank in the corner to remind myself that this isn't permanent. Sure, it might be childish to have a piggy bank, but I don't trust the banks in Gotham enough to keep my money safe. Way too much crime for that. So I will just stick it out with my little piggy bank, saving every spare nickel and dime I can, to move out of this blasted city.
I moved to Gotham five years ago in the hopes of making my life worth living. I was kicked out of school, and became a journalist. Nothing big or front page worthy, but enough to get my foot in the door of Journalism.
I have been scraping by ever since, and still get the middle of the newspaper, or even worse. the obituaries. Nothing like writing up a bunch of stuff about the victims of the crime in this town. Sure, a few people died of natural causes occasionally, but most of it was muggings gone wrong or something.
I live in a small rickety apartment about three blocks from the narrows. Needless to say, When I'm not trying to write something, my house is filled with the noise of various neighbors who are everything from gang bangers, to prostitutes; police sirens, gun shots, and once I swear I heard him laugh.
You would think that laughter would be welcomed in my part of the neighborhood. But I swear, when I heard that, my legs turned to jello. It's like it goes right through you, and spears you to the floor. Not exactly cheerful in the normal kind of way.
Kind of makes you wonder what he was so happy about...
After my sandwich, I hop in the shower, and after I've stood in the cold water as long as I could possibly sand it, I get out quickly. Brushing my messy brown hair, I think to myself. Maybe this time next year I will be famous. Melanie Ryder; Reporter for the New York Times, or something as equally exciting. If you're going to dream, dream big right?
I head over to my bed, and pull out my little cardboard box from underneath my bed that disguises my laptop. One of the only nice things I own, I'm gonna do anything I can to protect it.
I open up a small article I have been working on called, Batman: needed, but unwanted. I have decided that I wish he had never showed up. Sure Batman is supposed to be the good guy. But I just can't help but think maybe crime wouldn't be so bad if there wasn't the challenge of trying to beat him.
At six, it's time for work. I grab my ID and head out the door. It's about a six block walk to the newspaper office, and not many people are on the street. I hurry to the office, and swipe my badge to be let in. I really hope this day passes quickly...
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I hurry home at a slow jog. I don't like being on the street after dark, and the wind is reminding me of my nightmare.
I published my article today, and am curious about what people will think. It's always risky going against the majority, and it's not something I do often.
I reach my apartment building, and as I turn the corner toward my front door, I notice something small on the frame.
As I walk closer, it becomes more defined, and I gasp in horror as I see it.
A Joker card is wedged in my doorframe with a message.
"I agree. See you soon."
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I hope you guys liked this so far... I know it's a little short, but it is the first chapter... And It will totally get better! I just needed to introduce her lifestyle and stuff before I just jumped in! :D please review! Any ideas or advice might make its way into the story!
