Full sum: Based on elements of the comics and movie. Rated M for violence, language, and visuals. Lucy is a gutter punk living on the streets of Gotham after an estrangement from her mother, Harleen Quinzel. After being attacked, she is sent on a wild goose chase and quickly discovers she is being hunted. But by who? And more importantly, why? More questions than answers will arise as she travels deeper into the rabbit hole of secrets and lies kept from her.
I meant to post this a while ago, i wrote this after seeing Suicide Squad (I hated it but loved the Joker and Harley) but decided to write it until it was done before posting it. Chapters will be posted every Monday. Happy New Years, enjoy.
There were three of them now. Three large goonish looking guys standing at the other end of the street staring at me.
I blew a bubble through my teeth and gnashed on the stale piece of bubblegum in my mouth, trying to remain natural as the smashed up meter flooded out coins. This wasn't gang territory or controlled by some whacked out crime boss, we were literally down the street from the heart of downtown Gotham and its teeming nightlife. I tended to stay around here because it's generally safer from people like the guys slowly walking towards me.
I turned away from them and slung my bag around my shoulders, keeping the crowbar tightly grasped in my fist. This wouldn't be the first time I had to outrun a group of creepy men.
They must not have counted on me running, because I was already around the corner by the time they started giving chase. A few stumbling drunks wandering these back alley streets stopped to stare, but didn't do much as I came flying by, bag of stolen change clattering loudly the entire time.
My head start ended up being a godsend, because those fuckers could run fast. They were already several yards behind me when I turned sharply into the alley on my right. I pinned myself to the wall and readied my swinging arm, I was gonna need it.
The first guy's nose gave a loud, satisfying crunch when my crowbar made contact with his cranium. I threw him into the second while the third scrambled around them. In the confusion, I swung down hard vertically and lodged the curved end of the crowbar into the back of his skull, he dropped to the ground immediately, and I swung a second time just in case.
The other two slammed me against the wall, the one without blood gushing down his chin and neck began to kick me in my sides. I cried out in between each blow, hoping someone somewhere would hear me and do something. But I've lived here long enough to know, no one usually does, not even the freaks in tights.
"How's he look?" The goon standing over me took a step back as I recoiled on the ground, clutching my sides that were screaming in pain.
"He's dead." The other one responded gruffly, clutching his gushing nose.
"If she wasn't important, I'd kick her head in." The first one cursed loudly. I was curled up into a ball now and these mother fuckers had me seeing red. While neither one were looking, I reached into my boot and pulled out the switchblade I kept hidden in there.
"C'mere, you bitch." The man nearly growled at me and reached for my hair. The blade of the knife flashed through the darkness as I dug it into his neck. He gave out a gurgled cry and fell forward, right on top of me and spraying the front of my shirt in thick globs of blood. At this point, the last man standing decided to just eff it and he took off running from where they came, clutching his broken nose the entire time.
Letting out a feral roar of my own, I shoved the heavy man off of me and sprung to my feet. Snatching up my crowbar and wheezing through the pain at my sides, I went running after the fleeing man at top speed. I was pissed, this was my favorite shirt and now it was ruined! And to top it all off, this creep thought he could just run away?
"Get back here, fucker!" I shouted after his running frame, barely paying attention to where I was going. The man gave a slight jump at the sound of my voice and quickened his run into an all out sprint. As I started to gain on him, the pain in my sides became overwhelming and I had to stop and lean against the wall of a building to catch my breath. Shit, I'd probably have to go to the clinic and make sure nothing was fractured or bleeding. Just great.
I watched the man disappear down the street as I gritted my teeth and suppressed the urge to let out a frustrated scream. Whenever I got angry, I tended to fly to the most extreme end of my emotions without reason, but right now, I had a pretty damn good one.
As I made my way to my friends apartment that I was crashing at, I tried to write off the encounter as an act of random violence. Happened all the time. But their conversation had been cryptic, I was 'important' to them, to whatever twisted idea they had in mind. I tried not to linger on that very long. Usually stories like those did not end too well.
