Author's Note: This is my first fanfic. My original character is a Hispanic young adult woman whose presence in this original DC comics story is a fresh start for fanfiction. I just believe characters of different races, ethnicities, and backgrounds deserve their own chances in the spotlight. Enjoy!

I do not own any DC characters. I only own Anya Martinez.

Where We Stand Together

Chapter 1 The beginning

"I'll think about it," I mumble under my breath. I know my voice must sound evil on the account of being pestered for the eighth time today. This woman knows how to push my buttons; she knows exactly what she's doing. But not this time. I will not give into her insanity and complaints.

"What's to think about, Anya? It's a charity-dinner-ball thing. Rich men will be there. Isn't that enough to convince you?" Jessica Cruz's voice sings with fantasy and imagination. She's my roommate, my best friend, and my crime-fighting partner. "And plus, I'm tired of being cooped up in here with nothing to do since Martian Manhunter has taken over mission assignments and has to make it "fair" for other heroes to fight. Well…we shouldn't have to be stuck inside every night while others get to have fun! Oh dios mio!" (Oh my God!)

Her last relationship ended just four months ago, when Simon Baz insisted he focus on his own life alone. John Stewart, the father figure Jessica looked up to since the green lantern ring chose her, forced Jessica to move to Gotham city for a fresh start…mostly just to get over Simon, I believe. It had worked out for both John and Jessica, since Jessica's been "man hungry" ever since her confidence hit the roof.

I raise my knees up to my chest and sip the hot chocolate she made for us. Sitting on the ledge of our balcony, my eyes zero in on Gotham's dark clouds; covering every inch of sunlight to hide. No wonder Gotham's criminal and suicide rates are sky-high. Who in their right mind would live here?

My biological parents predicted their deaths here. True to their word, I became an orphan at the crucial age of sixteen-years-old. Nobody wanted me. If you were a teenager, would anyone want you? Nobody wanted teenagers; only newborn babies.

It was more than a dark time. I had no other relatives since the only people I truly knew were my parents: my mother, an alcoholic, exotic dancer, and my father, a highly-paid assassin. Well, my father's job eventually got the best of our family, and he made one client angry as hell and shot my parents in a drive-by shooting.

Of course, they did not die in front of me. I had just come back from buying pizza for our dinner and stood among the other citizens and police officers in Gotham.

I had to run away. I knew no one would want me. I wasn't a trouble maker or anything, but the fact is, I'm a homemade product of a slutty mother and a murderer father. I'm considered bad news, I swear.

I ran for most of the nights. Hitched rides wherever I could find shelter, food, and protection from the cops. I became a thief, even though I had to erase most from my conscience just because I was starving.

Two weeks of living on my own, I found myself in Metropolis. I made a little home for myself outside of the Daily Planet (mostly just two big cardboards and two trash cans), and picked up loose dollar bills and change just to get by.

A quarter rolled and rolled around the sidewalk. Hearing the coin made instant contact with concrete ground made my eyes huge and my heart beat super-fast. I scrambled onto my hands and knees to capture the coin before it would disappear or be taken. My hand quickly slammed on the quarter, and I felt an instant feeling of relief. But it didn't go unnoticed. To the citizens in Metropolis, I was a dirty, poor rat capturing a quarter.

Two individuals stared at me, while others whispered and pointed at me as if I was a diseased, monster.

The man who was just staring, alongside a dark haired brunette who looked at me like I was a headline for the news today, kneeled in front of me; he was clearly not afraid of me.

I didn't know this man but he didn't look threatening, but I kept my guard up anyway. His dark hair was combed back, and he had thick black framed glasses. What made my heart pound the most was striking, icy blue eyes and the way he smelled…good. Really good…

"Are you okay?" he asked, a little louder than what he intended to, I think. I immediately come down back to Earth when I suddenly realized, he must have asked me that more than once.

"I-I'm fine," I quickly answer. I scoot backwards to get away from him, from everyone.

"I can help you," he speaks again. The kindness and seriousness in his voice traps me. "You shouldn't be living out here by yourself. I can help you. You can trust me."

The cloud moves away from the sun. A bright, golden light shines down on the man in front of me. My instinct tells me to trust him, but my heart has doubts.

His hand moves towards me. He wants me to grab it. He grins; his grin is hypnotizing, flattering, and handsome. "My name's Clark Kent."

My hand reaches his strong, protective grip. "Anya Martinez."

That was eleven years ago, and things have changed drastically since then. Clark's marriage to Lois Lane ended. I blame myself, since my presence there made Clark over-protective and insanely involved in my life. Once I turned twenty-two, I left Metropolis in search for my own identity.

It happened one night when I was in a rebellious phase. I just had to get out of Clark's life even though he begged me not to leave him. I know I hurt him in a way, since all he has is Jon, who basically goes back and forth between him and Lois. Jon didn't want me to leave either, since I've taken the role of being a big sister quite seriously. But this wasn't about them. This was about me and what I needed to do for myself.

I drank so much. Beers, vodka, and shots, I drowned myself in the music at nightclub in Gotham. In my drunk mind, I knew I couldn't go back to Metropolis wasted, so I did the stupidest thing I have ever done in my life: walk the streets and go home with someone.

A man followed me down the street. He must have been someone I danced with earlier and wanted me more. I was screwed up. I was stumbling in my high heels, my vision was blurry, and my mini black dress kept hiking up, and my hiccups were loud and disturbing.

The man caught up with me. He pushed me in an alleyway, and shoved his tongue in my mouth. The smell of alcohol and the taste of some kind of heavy drug made me more nauseous. His hands hold my waist like an anchor; how can I escape now when I'm as weak as a toothpick against a hammer.

"No. I don't want this…" the words struggled out of my mouth. But it was no use. It must have been one in the morning. Nobody could hear me or see me.

"I think you do. Why else would you make this so easy?" the man says with his face between my neck and shoulder.

"I-I don't want this! Please stop!" I say louder. Can anyone hear me?

When the man moved his hand up my dress, a dark shadow covered the streetlight at the end of the alleyway. A figure, dressed in all black, rushes to us and slams the man who was all over me up against the wall.

"She said she didn't want your sexual advances. Why do you sickos make this so easy for me to put you in your place?" the caped crusader growled and beat the man unconscious.

When the man was out cold, the dark knight made his way over to me. I wasn't as drunk as I initially believed, because I could look up to his masked face and know who he was. Batman.

He helped me up. I looked up at the tall hero and smiled. "Thank you, Batman."

"Just be more careful when you're out at night. You know, this is Gotham and this place isn't exactly Metropolis." And with that one comment, Batman disappeared right before my eyes.

What didn't startle me was Batman. What startled me most was how he knew I was from Metropolis.