Ummm..... How can I put this without giving too much away? It isn't Luna per say, but she is Luna-like, if that makes sense. Different name, slightly different look, mostly the same attitude. You'll find out her name much later (ch 6). I wanted her to have a Renaissance name, and that's all I'm saying.
Thanks for reading, I love all of you!
Random quote: (from the incredibly awesome Calvin and Hobbes) "People think it must be fun to be a super genius, but they don't realize how hard it is to put up with all the idiots in the world."
~Calvin.
Disclaimer: don't own 'em..... yet -evil grin-; still writin' fanfiction
##################################################################################
SIX YEARS LATER
All was silent on the dark New York streets. Nothing stirred, save a slight breeze down the alleyway. The Nightstalker was hidden, perched quietly on the nearby fire escape. The fur covering her body kept her warm to some degree, but she still gripped the worn coat tighter around her shoulders to keep out the chill. She was still; the only sign that she was even there was the glow of her golden-colored eyes from the light of the street lamp.
Nothing happened. They weren't going to show tonight. Good, that hopefully meant that she'd scared them off. She leaped down, landing cat-like on all fours, flicking her tail for balance. Her feline ears swiveled atop her head like radar, listening for sound.
"It's a little too quiet around her." she muttered to herself. She turned and left the alley, slipping into the sewers through a nearby manhole.
"Home sweet home." she muttered sarcastically to herself, taking off the coat. She rolled it up and laid her head down on it. She closed her eyes and fell into a light sleep, still on alert. She could never fully relax, lest they capture her again.
She was born an animal, and she was never going back.
***********************************************************************************
Morning on the streets of New York was hardly what one would call fun. The fifteen-year-old girl hurried through the streets, anxious to get back to the solitude and peace of the sewers below. She only went topside to "acquire" food. She jumped quickly into an opening to the darkness below and sighed in relief.
"Scooter, Ratunga, Pachacha! I brought food!" she called and soon three scrawny, dirty-looking rats scurried to her. She held out a hunk of cheese and Ratunga, the eldest and biggest of the three, took it. He broke it apart and gave a little to each of his companions, who ate hungrily. Ratunga squeaked as if to say thanks, then they all scurried away. Pachacha, the only girl of the trio and also the youngest, gave the Nightstaker a quick lick on the hand before hurrying after her brothers.
"Take care." the girl called softly after the rats and she heard three distinctive squeaks for answers. She smiled slightly and bit into an apple, the only food she'd managed to grab that day. It would have to do.
"Whoa! Cowabunga dude!" A voice reached her sensitive ears and she quickly scurried to the ladder. The sound of wheels reached her and she disappeared up into the bright sun-kissed world once again. She didn't want to be here! She'd rather be down below, cool and alone.
But that couldn't be helped. Better up here than down below where the owner of the voice could find her. She hunkered down in an abandoned alleyway, always on the alert.
Night soon fell and the Nightstalker rose. She prowled the streets, wary of danger. The Mob was out tonight, she could hear them. They didn't bother her, however, so she ignored them. She crept around the corner, ears pricked and eyes flashing. Having perfect night vision had its advantages, especially for a little nighttime prowling around.
The sound of trashcans crashing to the ground brought her out of her thoughts. "Who's there?" she hissed.
The Purple Dragons stepped into view. "Well, well, well. What do we have here? If it isn't our freakish friend. How ya doin', freak?"
The girl hissed, her sharp claws glinting slightly in the moonlight. "I don't have the time nor the patience to play games with you." she hissed, whipping out the knife she always carried around.
"Sweetie, we always got times for games." the leader said and the gang attacked her again. The knife was ripped from her hands and flung into a pocket. It was six to one; hardly a fair fight.
The again left her bleeding and battered, bruises already starting to form on her arms, legs, and face. Her last conscious thought before she passed out was 'When will I learn to keep my big mouth shut?'
###################################################################################
First chapter right there. Lemme know what ya think!
Yes, I realize the chapter is a bit.... O.K., a lot short, but they will (hopefully) grow in length as the story progresses. It's a work in progress, gimme a break.....
I want THREE reviews before I post the next chapter. Please and thank you!!
-12kirby12
