Disclaimer: Batman and anything to do with Batman belongs to his respectful owners, I own and know nothing.

This story and its original characters belong to me though, thank you very much ;)

Be gentle, its one of my first. (Rated T, just to be safe)

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It all started in the infamous 'ZigZag Jazz Club', on the corner of Trinity and Marvin Street, near the Upper East Side. This translates out roughly as 'one of the ritziest clubs in town and anybody who is anybody knows it.' Okay, maybe it didn't say that out right but that's what you get from the general impression of its location in Gotham. And it can convey all that with its location alone.

When you actually get to the club you are suddenly filled with not only a sense of worthlessness and 'oh-my-god-what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here-ness' but with a mild sense of aw, because once you are admitted into the ZigZag jazz scene you know you have arrived to proverbial Nirvana.

You see, the ZigZag is all about class. For instant's, they only allow the classiest people into the premises of the club without hesitation, while the shmucks outside have to wait in line for hours on end. They make sure all of their staff members are beautiful, young, hip and most importantly, classy.

Their employee's uniforms are chic and constantly updated by only top of the line designers.Prada, Gucci, Louis vuitton, Dolce and Gabbana…you name it, they wear it. The club updates its look every 6 months to make sure it's always fresh and in vogue. But the premise never changes; Jazz music, dancing, gambling, and drinking- which everyone knows will never fall out of style, especially that last one.

The owner of this club is not a man of many words and is in fact noted to say the very least possible; he really just lets his daughter have the run of the place. The owner in question is one Mister Joshua Vermoon, who is around sixty and sunk his entire inheritance into making this club.

But don't feel too bad for the old goat, that money has come back to him at least ten fold in the last decade thanks to his club and bar, so if anything he can die knowing he's one of the richest men in Gotham. This is saying a lot since everywhere you look some billionaire is moving into the city, buying a whole fleet of cars, servants, and a house big enough to sustain its own gravitational orbit.

Now, his daughter on the other hand, is quite the little socialite and spends all her time in daddy's club; drinking, dancing, and rubbing elbows with Gotham's elite. She's the one who makes sure all the hired staff are classy, and that the current look is classy, and that every single little thing about the ZigZag Jazz club is in fact, classy.

She does a fairly good job, since the club has been around for a whole decade, and is still going strong. Dear Miss Vermoon's first name is Saffron, and her mother, the lovely Mrs. Rebecca Vermoon, is deceased. Which I guess is a plus since mothers aren't very classy.

But before I continue with my little story about what soon became the most damn exciting and terrible night of my life, let me tell you, the avid listeners of this tale, about me.

There isn't very much to me in particular, just that I'm 22, single, and work full time as a librarian for Gotham City's First Royal Library. Oh, and my name just happens to be Candace Dubois.

My parents, in all their good willed charm, wanted to make sure that I had an original name because when I was born they were absolutely positive that I would turn out to be a famous artist. Mostly because I kept trying to grab onto the colors on the nursery walls. So they figured I should get a head start and have an artistic name for encouragement.

To bad there has never been a larger misconception in the history of the entire known universe.

When I reached the number grades it became painfully obvious that I was never going to become a famous artist. Ever.

I liked math and reading, and I didn't mind art or anything, it's just that I've never been any good at it. When I was small I had the excuse of being a kid, so it didn't really matter. But I soon realized that the art world and I were never meant to be.

I wouldn't fully classify myself as nerd during my school years, but I was considered quiet for my age. I enjoyed the normal things in life and experienced very little inside the safe bubble of my home town.

The name of the town I happened to grow up in is Hinickbarry, Florida, but I soon moved to Gotham when I turned 20 and finished my collage education. My parents still reside in quaint little Hinickbarry where I suspect they shall spend the remainder of their days together playing Mahjong.

I had a few close friends and a respectably standard life style, which was all that I could ask for.

Perhaps that's why I moved to Gotham in the first place, though. The calm, quite life, although relaxing, is at times, mind-bogglingly boring. So once school was over I packed up my belongings, said good-bye to age old friends and headed out for adventure. I still can't believe I was stupid enough to go looking for it in Gotham. Crime Central of America.

It seemed like the right choice at the time. Glamorous night life, rich bachelors and jobs a plenty. Why not give it a shot? So out I went searching for my niche in life. I quickly found and leased a small 3 roomed apartment in a petite building in a nice, clean neighborhood. Or at least, as clean as you can get in Gotham.

I un-packed and went job hunting the very next day. I have a Masters in English Composition, so I went out into the world thinking that getting a job would be a snap.

I was so wrong.

Every single company, business, and establishment I went to was either over staffed, under budget, or just not interested. After about a week of solid rejection I was feeling pretty lousy. Maybe big city life wasn't meant for suburbanites like me. Maybe I should give up, go home and get a job at the local book store…and that's about when it hit me.

Of course! The library! Libraries were always understaffed, and with my kind of education how could they refuse!

It was at this point that I rushed home, changed into a respectable cream colored suit and tied my mousy brown hair into a high pony tail. After a quick inspection in a full length mirror I determined that I was ready.

The suit fell nicely over my small, yet present, curves, and complimented my long neck. I didn't wear any make up since I didn't own any and had no idea how to apply the stuff.

I exercised when my schedule allowed it and the result was a willowy, pixie like body which was adequate and blended into a crowd of people nicely.

I strode out the door with resume in hands and head held high, already working on my acceptance speech.

'Thank you! Oh, thank you so much! I would like to dedicate this job offer to all my friends and family and, to my mother and father for always being there, and to all the little people who helped me get to the top! Thank you all so much!'…

Okay, maybe that was a bit much, and when I think about it, I would most defiantly be fired on the spot if I were to deliver a speech like that. But I smirked none the less. It's healthy to flex your imagination, especially one as dramatic as mine.

I flagged a cab down to get from my little apartment to downtown Gotham. I spent the duration of the car ride practicing yoga breathing, and rehearsing what I would say when asked all the most obvious questions.

Question one: What is one of your pet peeves?

Answer: When books are just thrown willy-nilly with no regard for alphabetical order.

Question two: What can you contribute to the library?

Answer: I'm organized, level headed, and respect all forms of literature.

Oh yes, employment here I come.

The cab jolted to a sudden stop and I was yanked back into reality. I paid his fare and climbed out from the passenger's side, heading straight for the Gotham's First Royal Library.

Gotham's library is a perfect match for the rest of the city. That is to say, it was dark, foreboding, and gothic, like the rest of the architecture here. It had a high domed ceiling with intricate patterns carved into the marble. Portraits of demons and angels, of huge battles and cringing beasts were engraved upon the entire outside expanse of the dome. It's tall and intimidating pillars were matched with dreadful gargoyles, watching people pass by with a strangely knowing gaze.

The front doors of the building were made from pure mahogany and stood out against the white stone dramatically. The steps alone were a personal aerobics session and I found my self out of breath by the time I reached the entrance. Which on closer inspection were a lot larger and more menacing then I had realized from across the street.

I took a deep, calming lungful of air and pushed against the doors with all my might, that is until one particular patron of the library decided that I was taking to long and shoved the door open, knocking me aside in the process. He grunted an apology and hustled on inside.

Huh…jerk.

I scowled and scurried inside before the doors closed in my face. I was in full pissy mode and didn't take in my surroundings until I was a few dozen steps inside the building. I looked up and gazed at what surrounded me, my scowl quickly tuning into a look of utter awe.

Every single book you could possibly ever want to read was right here. It was…over whelming.

The books were housed in huge shelves that almost reached the very top of the ceiling, while the shelves themselves were placed in two rows stretching to the very back wall. There was an upstairs as well, which held little cubicles with a computers and chairs for the general public.

After another moment or two of stunned staring I began to walk through the aisle separating the two main rows of books and headed straight for the main desk. Would you believe they didn't have one of these things in Hinickbarry? Yeah right.

I reached the front desk and gently tapped on the wood to get the attention of the only librarian currently sitting there. She was old, but had dignified air around her. She was wearing an old fashioned, navy blue dress, and her white hair was in a bun, she also smelt vaguely of cinnamon and mint. The woman looked up prudishly from her book and pursed her lips before addressing me.

"Yes? My I help you?" She wasn't cruel or strict like most librarians were, but she did seem slightly miffed that I had interrupted her reading session.

"Um, yes…hi, my name is Candace Dubois and I was wondering if it would be alright to apply here for a job perhaps?" I asked in a rush, forgetting my carefully planned job proposal in the heat of the moment.

She wrinkled her nose and thought about it for a moment "I'd have to check with the head librarian. Do you have a resume?" I quickly handed her the laminated piece of paper which she took briskly and skimmed over, reading about my credits, past jobs and educational status.

"You can read, so that's a plus." Was the only reply I got from the indignant librarian about my resume. She fixed me with her dark brown eyes before speaking again.

"You start Monday, at 6:00 o'clock sharp and the day ends at 8:00 pm. Weekends we close down early at 7:00 o'clock. You get one week vacation a year and dental. We'll discus other benefits later. You'll get paid 12 dollars an hour but only for the hours you work, so the shorter the lunch break the better it is for you." She said all this with out once looking away or even blinking…freaky, I know.

I, on the other hand was stunned into silence. I had gotten the job and answered zero questions, and had yet to even meet the boss. But hey, who was I to complain. I was now officially employed. So naturally I did the first thing that came to mind in such a happy situation. I shouted.

"Really?" I asked animatedly. Several heads turned in my direction and the librarian pursed her lips and told me to hush.

"Now that you are working here I expect you to at least be able to keep your voice down" She whispered.

"Oops, sorry. I just got excited is all" I whispered back. "Is there a boss or a head librarian here?" I inquired; I needed to at least know who I was working for.

The librarian, who I identified as Mrs. Celvic from the little name plate on her desk, just smiled crookedly before picking up her book and reading. "You're looking at her" she stated.

"Oh" was the only witty remark I could come up with.

She smiled this time in earnest and got the feeling that we would get along fine. I kind of liked her already. Amusing, but in her own, psychotic way. I smiled and agreed to meet her on Monday at the alleged time before leaving and beginning the long trip back to my place.

I had to walk the entire back because I had spent all my precious travel funds on that damn taxi. When I arrived home I quickly changed into some sweats and a t-shirt before flopping down on the couch and digging into my pre-heated cup of noodles. I was defiantly living the high life.

The next day I rode the subway to my new job instead of flagging a taxi. Those things are expensive, and until I could get my hands on my first pay check, I needed to be money conscious.

I arrived on time and met Mrs. Celvic at the front desk. She nodded her approval at my conservative attire, a simple black pencil skit and a white blouse, before giving me a tour of the library. She pointed out all the sections I would need to know by heart at the end of the week, and where the break room in the back was. She also showed me the storage facility, which held the libraries impressive collection of first additions under lock and key.

The first day was basically just me watching Mrs. Celvic helping people and getting the feel for the whole librarian vibe. This went on for the first few weeks and after that I was in the full swing of things. I had an apartment, a job, a reasonably large stock of instant noodles, what more could I ask for?

It was on one of these average, inconspicuous days that I happened to meet one Johan Marvis, who to this date still remains one of my most trusted and loyal friends. The way we met, though, gave away no inclination to what this friendship might lead towards. At the time it seemed harmless enough…

I was working the front desk, a.k.a reading a book, when I heard someone clear their voice to get my attention. I looked up and was caught off guard by the staggeringly beautiful girl in front of me. She was blond, young and from the way she carried herself, seemed painfully shy. I put down my book and smiled up at her.

"May I help you?" I asked politely. The girl looked this way and that, like she was getting ready to bolt at any second. "Yes, umm…I was wondering where…the ah…philosophical section of the library is?" She questioned quietly, stuttering over her sentence. I smiled and got up, leading the way through the massive book shelves, weaving this way and that before coming to a stop in front of our extensive philosophical archives.

I turned and smiled at the stunning shy girl, who I imagined must have a hard time being bashful and beautiful all at once. "Do you need any thing else?" I asked. She looked this way and that before nodding her head. "I was wondering if you could help me find these particular books…" She trailed off, while pulling a list of works from her jean pocket.

I took the small piece of paper from her gently, so as to not startle her, and began to collect what she needed.

In the small time it took me to gather the books she needed we got to talking. I found that the girl wasn't just beautiful but also incredibly intelligent. We spoke about philosophy, books, our favorite authors, ice cream, and somehow managed to even get around to talking about our childhoods.

As fate would have it, we became instant best friends. We spent the whole day chatting away about everything you could think of. I felt bad for dominating the conversation a bit, but when I apologized she just shook her head and smiled. Saying she was more then happy to just listen.

It felt good to talk about my new life in Gotham with someone who could relate. For Johan also came from a small town and moved here when she was only 17.

By the end of the day we were laughing and exchanging phone numbers, promising to meet up with one another tomorrow for dinner at some café near her house. We parted ways and when I got home, I changed into my P.J's and cracked open another cup of noodles.

I smiled while I ate; I had missed having a social life since coming to this city, and was glad to have made a friend. A very interesting friend to boot. She was smart, shy, funny, and had an exciting job working as a waitress down at some place called the 'ZigZag Jazz Club'. I wondered if I would get to see it one day…

Thinking back, life was a lot simpler before I heard that place existed…

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Omg review for the love of cheese!

You know you want to ;)