The Tragedy

Chapter One: The Man With The Scars

~This story will shift POV so you can get inside the head of each character, from the maniacal Joker, to the heroic Bruce Wayne/Batman. I do not own any of the characters, except my character, Ariel Deveaux. Please, review, suggest, and question. It really helps us writers with ideas, and how to keep you as readers interested. It really does help, ask any writer on here! Thank you, and much love 3~

Ariel's POV:

It was difficult working in a diner in Gotham. You rarely got any business, the streets were filled with to much crime for anyone to be out past seven o'clock. We get a few cops, and occasionally a few thugs, just looking for a meal. I did my usual rounds, asking everyone if they needed more coffee. I get to my favorite table. This man, I don't even know his name. He comes in everyday, and strikes up a conversation with me. He doesn't talk to anyone else.

"More coffee?" I ask with a smile. He looks up from his book at me, and removes his glasses to reveal icy blue eyes. I see them everyday, but somehow, its still a shock every time I see them.

"Yes, please. Thank you, Ariel." He watches me as I pour his coffee.

"You know, I see you in here every day, and I still don't know your name." I chuckle, attempting to act as if I was joking, but in all seriousness, I was curious to know why this was, or at least what his name is.

"Well that would ruin my mysterious demeanor, wouldn't it?" He joked, with a smile.

"I guess it would," I joked back. "But seeing as you know my name all to well, it's only fair you return the favor."

"Well you do make a mean pot of coffee. Alright, my name is Jonathan."

"Hmm. You don't look like a Jonathan."

"Really? Well you certainly are a 'little mermaid' look-alike." His statement was all to true. I got this my whole life. Possibly because I am rather small, a whole-whopping 5 feet 2 inches. I did have very red hair, my mother being completely Irish. I am also brave enough to admit I am very childish. I was never able to hang out with my friends, so I always stayed inside and played with my dolls, even as a teenager.

"Okay, okay. That better not be a bad thing." I laughed.

"Not at all." He said with a grin. I smiled back. I mean, why wouldn't eye. Jonathan was a good-looking guy. He didn't appear to be strong, or tough, but he was intelligent. That mattered the most.

"I'll be right back with your pie." I turn on my heel and enter the kitchen. As I enter the kitchen, Melanie approaches me. Mel was very tall, well, anyone is very tall to me, but Mel was taller than a lot of people. She was the complete opposite of me. She was tan, whereas I am extremely pale, almost white. She had short brown hair, and a rather large bust. In high school, she got all the boys and dates, and I stayed home, playing with my porcelain dolls, listening to her brag about how great her date went. Even if her date was terrible, I still was always jealous that she was so popular. As I grew into adulthood, I learned not to care. I was me, and that's all that mattered.

"I saw you talking to that man out there!" Melanie squealed.

"I am a waitress, Mel, that's my job." I replied.

"No, no. You were interested in each other. I saw the look in your eyes, and the way he smiled at you. Too bad he's creepy."

"What? Why is he creepy?"

"He just sits there and reads all damn afternoon. He must be pretty fearless too, coming into this part of Gotham."

"That doesn't make him creepy. It makes him smart, and intelligent. Sorry he's not the jacked-up, 'bad-asses' you're used to dating." I snapped back.

"Okay, Rel. Just, watch out is all." She warned me. She was right. My last boyfriend nearly killed me. Left me with a scar on my chest to prove it too; but I had faith in Jonathan. He is a good man, from what I know. Dear God, what do I know? I glanced out the order window, and noticed a man waiting to be seated.

"Mel, can you take this pie to Jon? I need to seat a guy.:

"Oh so you guys are on first name basis? How cute." She teased.

"Just go!" I pleaded.

I walked over to the man, when I was struck back by the scars on his face. The stretched from the corners of his mouth, almost to his ears. The cuts were very jagged, as if cuts were done quickly. He eyed me up, and noticed I was staring. I quickly snapped back to reality.

"Oh I'm so terribly sorry sir!" I pleaded for forgiveness.

"Please. Call me Jack." His voice was small, yet maniacal sounding. I don't usually like to judge people, but I would be lying if I didn't say I was scared.

"Y-yes, Jack. F-follow me, please." I say as I usher him to a table. He sits, and folds his hands on the table.

"My names Ariel, I'll be your waitress today, can I get you something to drink?"

"I'll just have a water." I give him a nod, and rush into the kitchen.

Jonathan's POV:

I'm waiting. I don't even like this food. I don't even like coffee. I must act as normal as possible. I hate this place. I only ever return for Ariel. A woman approaches me with my pie. A woman who isn't Ariel.

"Here you go." She says as she sets the plate down in front of me.

"Thanks, oh- where has Ariel gone?" I question.

"She is seating another customer," She taps her foot, and gives me and odd look. "She's single, you know?"

"O-oh. Okay." I smile a forced smile. I don't understand this woman's motives.

"You should give her your number or something." She continues to stare at me. I was irritated at this point. I am gratified by Ariel's company, but I don't believe I am capable of feelings for a companion.

"Thanks." I say, flatly. She rolls her eyes and walks away. I hate that woman. I could of gave her a full concentrated dose of my toxin, and walked out. So easy. I look up and notice Ariel walking in my direction, good. She invites herself to the seat across from me.

"Tell me about yourself." She demands.

"Well this is a little forward." I say, jokingly.

"I have seen you everyday for 7 months. It took me until today to learn your name. What's your occupation?"

"I am a psychiatrist."

"That's interesting," She leaned in. "Do you have a wife, children?"

"No, I am not married. No, I do not have any children. My turn. I am assuming you aren't married, seeing as there is no ring on your finger. Your body isn't aging, so no children. What's your last name?"

"Deveaux. Yours?"

"That's French, am I correct? And Crane."

"Yes it is French. I was born in France, actually. My mother was on France for vacation from Ireland, met my father, and never went home. My mother died when I was 7, and a year later my father moved us to Gotham."

"Sorry to hear about your mother," I leaned in, because now I was interested. I was interested because, maybe not all Gotham has to offer is the scum of the earth. "Why did you decide to waitress?"

"I wasn't able to become fluent in English until I was 14. Even then, it was difficult for me to learn. I am jealous of you quite actually. You look successful. You are a psychiatrist. People like you usually don't even want to be seen talking to people like me."

"Well, I'm not exactly everything I seem." I say with a grin and a meaning more than she could possibly know. She smiles back, and if I had to be quite honest, she's the only person I ever want to see smile, it's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I hated the fact I felt this way. Only then had I realized, the entire time I have been here, I didn't complete any of my work. My research, not even started for today. This woman is to distracting.

"I have to go now, maybe we can talk again over coffee?" I offer, in attempt to get away for now. I slip her my number, and she looks up and smiles again.

"I would love that. How about here? Tomorrow, at 6? I don't work tomorrow, and since this is where I work, I get a discount."

"Sounds like a date." I say as I stand up. As I head out the door, I look back at her, who is now looking at another man, with scars, stuffing his face with the same type of pie I failed to finish. Disgusting.

~Yay the first chapter is complete! Really, let me know what you think of my characters, and where you think the story is heading. I love to hear opinions, and my favorite is answering questions. I love all of you for taking the time to read this. I really get insecure about letting people read my stories, so it was relieving to find a place with a bunch of other aspiring writers. lots of love 3~