A/N: With my computer wiped clean, I'm starting from scratch again. Don't worry; I'm not abandoning any of my previous stories. I just don't have any motivation to work on them now.
Been reading some Joker fanfiction lately, which I suppose inspired this. And if any of you out there watch "Leverage", my OFC is loosely based on Parker whom I adore.
DISCLAIMER: Everything you recognize belongs to DC Comics and Christopher Nolan. Everything else is mine.
Sic Transit Gloria Mundi
"Thus passes the glory of the world"
...
By Scribbles-Dementia
...
0
"The train to Civic City is now leaving platform nine. The train to Civic City is now leaving platform nine."
Gotham City Central Station buzzed with activity; trains coming and going, commuters arriving and departing; everyone was in a rush to get somewhere and no one wanted to give way. Above the bustle of the crowd, the cold, female voice of the automated announcing system coolly directed passengers to their platforms.
"The train from Blüdhaven is now arriving on platform three. The train from Blüdhaven is now arriving on platform three."
Central Station could be called Gotham's melting pot, except there was no attempt at assimilation of any sort. People from varying classes were represented here; from the city's elite to seedy underworld criminals to the homeless beggar digging through trashcans, all going about their own business and conveniently ignoring everyone else.
A red-faced young man in a pressed suit weaved his way through the throng, yelling obscenities into a cell phone held to his ear. Pushing his way past the other people on platform three, knocking more than one child over the head with his bulky briefcase, the man never saw the woman leaning half in and half out of the trash bin. It was rather spectacular really. He barreled into her with enough force to send her heels over head into the bin, which in turn sent that toppling over onto its side, spilling both the woman and its contents across the busy platform. Swearing loudly as a half empty cup of slushie splattered onto his polished shoes, the man rounded on the woman with an ugly look on his face.
It was clear she was homeless, her hair had matted into one thick mess and her coat was threadbare and had a large hole in the right sleeve, right over the elbow. The skirt she was wearing had been patched several times, there were more than a few rips in her stockings, and several of her toes could be seen peeking out from her shoes. And she smelt.
"Fucking hell! Do you know how much these shoes cost!" roared the man, his phone call momentarily forgotten. He drew back his foot, as if to kick the woman, who stared blankly up at him, appeared to realise that their little scene had drawn a crowd, and shook off the slushie instead. Growling, he turned around and stalked away, already resuming his yelling into the cell phone.
"I don't care if you have to – Watch it!"
The young businessman's face was practically purple now. The unfortunate woman who'd bumped into him from behind looked barely out of her teens; the large green eyes that turned up to him were startled and scared. The backpack slung over one shoulder was almost bigger than she was.
"I'm sorry," she squeaked.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, eyes narrowed into slits, seemed to decide that she wasn't worth his time, and continued pushing his way down the platform. The young woman watched as he disappeared into the crowd, almost knocking over a little blonde toddler with his briefcase in the process. He didn't even look back once. And then she smiled a little smile that was much too sweet to be entirely innocent. That had been far too easy.
Pivoting on her heels, turning back the way she had come, the woman allowed the wallet she'd slipped up her sleeve to fall back down into her hand. It was a nice little piece, genuine leather accessorised with gold embellishments on the corners – gaudy but expensive. She didn't bother counting the bills as she withdrew them from the wallet, tossing that and the cards inside into a trash bin. She'd almost reached the spot where the homeless woman was slowly getting to her feet, the crowd around her and the upturned bin considerably thinner now once it was clear that nothing more was going to happen. It was simple enough to slip her hand into the older woman's coat pocket as she brushed past. Besides, the woman looked like she could do with a pleasant surprise and it wasn't like the angry businessman was really going to miss the money.
Pleased with her good deed for the day, the young woman allowed the crowd to carry her towards the exit. She could barely contain her excitement as she stepped out of the station and onto the streets of Gotham; her senses immediately assaulted by the blaring horns of impatient drivers and freshly ground coffee from the café on the street corner. An old newspaper in the gutter – its bold headline reading "I BELIEVE IN HARVEY DENT!" – proclaimed the election of a new district attorney. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear police sirens.
A passing bus drew her attention. Emblazoned on its side was an advertisement for the latest exhibition at the Gotham City Diamond Exchange. The Star of Affera, a rare pink diamond of considerable size, was to be displayed there in two days time.
The woman grinned.
Gotham was everything she had expected it to be – from its people to the city itself. There was only one thing missing.
Shifting her backpack higher up onto her shoulder, she walked to the street curb and flagged down a cab. Directing the cab driver, a loud and rather talkative man of Italian descent, to take her to the Plaza Hotel, she relaxed back into her seat and watched the city flash by her through the window.
There was something about Gotham, something unexplainable, that sent shivers down her spine. Pleasant, tingling shivers that usually only came after she pulled off a particularly difficult job. She missed that feeling. It had all been too easy in Blüdhaven that she might as well have not even bothered.
But Gotham was different. Gotham would give her what she needed, because this city was nothing like Blüdhaven. Whilst they shared a common infestation of mob bosses and other petty, and not-so-petty, criminals, Gotham had something Blüdhaven didn't. It had its very own caped crusader.
She bit down a giggle at the alliteration. Honestly, the thought of a grown man parading around the city dressed as a giant bat was nothing short of hilarious. But if the rumours that had reached her were anything to go by, the Batman was not to be taken lightly.
"Here you are, lady."
Shaken out of her thoughts, the young woman peered out the window and up at the towering building that was the Plaza Hotel. It would do.
"Keep the change," she said with a large smile, handing the cabbie a crumpled fifty-dollar bill.
"Gee, thanks lady!"
She had little trouble getting a suite on one of the higher floors; a friendly smile and a large wad of cash did wonders regardless of what city she was in. Dumping her bag on the bed, she picked up the phone and called the front desk.
First order of business: she needed a map of the city – her belly growled – and a club sandwich.
Gotham City's Diamond Exchange, located downtown, was a vastly underappreciated architectural wonder. One of the city's oldest standing structures, it had been declared a heritage building almost thirty years ago, due largely in part to some very vigorous campaigning by one Martha Wayne.
During the day, the Diamond Exchange was usually filled with camera toting tourists and members of Gotham's high society. At night silent alarms, pressure sensitive floors, thermal sensors, numerous hidden cameras and at least six security guards and one vicious rottweiler protected the building. It wasn't exactly impenetrable but it did deter many a would-be thief who found bank jobs far easier and less of a hassle.
Leo MacGuffin was one of the security guards on duty that night. Turned down by the academy on the grounds of mental instability – he had some mummy issues – the man had attempted to piece together his law enforcing dreams by applying for a position as a night watchman anywhere he could. Although harmless, Leo took his job very seriously, calling in his position every ten minutes to the guard in the security control room, who was curbing his boredom with a game of online checkers. Finishing his sweep of the showroom in which the Star of Affera would be going on display the very next day, Leo scanned both directions of the hall outside, checked the digital keypad on the wall, and rearmed the sensors inside the room.
"Jefferson? MacGuffin here. Second floor's clean. I'm heading up to third now," he stated duteously into his walkie-talkie.
"Yeah sure. Whatever, Leo," came the none-too-enthusiastic reply.
Nodding even though Jefferson couldn't see him, Leo kept his eyes peeled for any little thing that may be out of place, his right hand hovering over his gun holster, just in case. After all, this was Gotham. Pity he never bothered to look up.
Clinging onto one of the water pipes that ran along the ceiling of the hallway, a dark figure watched the man's retreating back. It waited until he turned the corner before swinging to hang upside-down in front of the security keypad, legs wrapped tightly around the pipe. Judging from its slight frame, it was clear the figure was a female.
Removing a thin screwdriver from up her sleeve, she deftly pried off the pad's faceplate. Holding the tool between her teeth, she withdrew an mp3 player and a series of wires from a zipper pocket in her jacket, hooked that up to the exposed circuit board, replayed the recording she'd made when Leo had rearmed the sensors, and grinned around the screwdriver as the security system disarmed itself. That was the problem with keypads; the dual-tone multi-frequency signalling made breaking in – or out – of places dead easy.
Landing lightly on her feet, she strode confidently into the showroom. Bypassing the numerous display cases with their glittery contents, she made straight for the unassuming door in the far corner of the room. It was, unsurprisingly, locked. But a quick selection of lock picks and eight seconds later, she was through the door and in the anteroom that led to the Exchange's safe.
The safe itself was rather impressive. Made of solid steel, it had three rotary combination locks and she was willing to bet anything that it had a glass relocker at the very least; probably a thermal one too. Maybe even a seismic sensor. Weak point-drilling was out of the question as, even if she got through the hard plates, she would probably trigger the relocker. Hiding a diamond core drill on her person whilst trying to be stealthy was also a bit of a problem. And although she prided herself on holding the fastest record in several less than respectable circles for cracking a safe using only a stethoscope, that method would take far too long and she didn't have the time. Fortunately, she had in her possession a slim, little device an engineering friend had given her several birthdays ago: a variation on an autodialer and the Cygnus, a computer-driven combination lock opening tool.
Mounting the device onto the safe's door near the first dial, she inserted the attached in-ear monitor into her ear and got down to work. It took a long five minutes, by the end of which she was grinning from ear to ear, before the final tumbler fell into place and the door popped open with a soft click. Ripping the safe-cracking instrument off the door and shoving it back into one of her numerous jacket pockets, she hurried into the safe itself, knowing that she was quickly running out of time.
She was running on pure adrenaline now. Barely ten feet in front of her, in a movable, freestanding display case, was a golf ball sized diamond, shining a dazzling pink – the Star of Affera. She made quick work of the case's lock and hesitated for only the briefest second before snatching up the jewel. Considering the fact that the display case sat on wheels, it was unlikely that the stand the diamond had been resting on was pressure sensitive.
Smiling smugly, she relocked both the display case and the safe before dashing silently across the showroom floor. Reaching the still empty hall, she replayed the recorded track, rearming the security system once more. Unplugging her mp3 player and reattaching the keypad's faceplate, she turned around, about to run towards the window at the end of the hall, when a tiny flashing red light caught her eye. Just above her, concealed behind a lighting fixture, was a hidden security camera.
She did not panic. She didn't even appear surprised. Still smiling, she gave the camera a mocking salute before making her way to the window. Gotham's finest sure were in for a surprise in the morning.
This wasn't her first visit to the Diamond Exchange. She had in fact made a little stop here the afternoon before, hacking into that day's security feed which was now running in a loop over the monitors in the control room. The only thing anyone watching would see would be a darkened showroom and Leo making his bi-hourly sweep.
Free soloing down the same way she had come up, she pulled her dark hair free of its severe braid once she reached street level, shaking it loose. Pulling up the hood of her jacket, which she'd tucked into the collar of her shirt before starting the job, she quickly made her way out of the back alley and was just about to cross the street when an idea occurred to her.
Doubling back into the alley, she found a hefty looking half-brick that more than suited her purposes. Walking casually out of the alley, she paused only to send the brick flying into one of the building's first floor windows, before continuing on across the street.
But she didn't go very far.
Stopping once she came to a bus stop, she settled down onto the metal bench and waited, tugging off her gloves and shoving them in the back pocket of her jeans. Less than a minute later, the sound of police sirens reached her ears. In another three minutes, two black and whites and an unmarked car pulled up in front of the Diamond Exchange.
She stayed long enough to see one of the security guards come rushing out of the building, looking very confused. As she continued on down the street, heading towards a busier intersection, she caught sight of a black blur out of the corner of her eyes. Looking back over her shoulder, she thought she could just make out what looked to be a stone gargoyle crouching on the roof of the Diamond Exchange; except there were no other gargoyles up there.
A satisfied grin spread across her face and she pulled her hood lower over her head. So that was the Batman.
With every step she took, she expected to be tackled from behind. But the attack never came. Reaching the intersection, she flagged down a cab and directed it to the Plaza Hotel. Removing a pair of foldable headphones from one of her jacket's inside pockets, she plugged it into her mp3 player; nodding her head in time to the music and lip syncing the lyrics as the distorted power chords of an old school rock band blared into her ears.
So what do you guys think? Like it? Hate it?
This is my first foray into the Batman verse so any comments, constructive or otherwise, would be much appreciated. Just no senseless flames please. Those will be used to build up my marshmallow-roasting bonfire.
I'll try my best to keep my OFC from turning into a Mary Sue; I hate that as much as the next person. And I promise to keep the Joker as true to character as possible, because we all just love that "psychopathic, mass murdering, schizophrenic clown with zero empathy". I know I do.
In the next chapter: I reveal the name of our mystery woman! Unlike my other stories, I'm making this one up as I go along so I can't reveal much else. The only thing that's really fleshed out at all is my OC. All I can tell you at this point is that this one is definitely going to have an explosive ending!
Much love,
Scribbles