A/N: Hey there! I'm back, and chapters should be going up more regularly. I have a plot in my head and a new laptop!

Huzzah! *happy dance*

But ye be warned, school's been a real bitch lately, so chapters will still be a bit slow, but faster than before.

And the plot bunnies have attacked. I have another story that I'm working on, but it won't be up for a long while. The characters are complicated, so the writing and ideas come slowly.

Anywhozzles, this chapter is a bit short, but the next one might be long. 'Might be' is the key phrase there. Some of my chapters will be long and some will be short; that's just how I roll.

Enjoy and please review!

BTDUBBS: I don't own anything expect this plotline and my OCs. If I did own it, I'd have all the villains tied up in my closet, and would take them out at night so we could cause havoc. *sigh*

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Murphy's Law: Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

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Chapter 4: Streetlights and Murphy's Law

OoOoOoO+OoOoOoO

The pool of golden light cast from the lone working streetlight glowed pleasantly at Vivian. It called out to her like the light at the end of the tunnel, promising safety and warmth from the cold, dark streets that surrounded her. If only she could reach it, she'd be safe.

Lies, of course. But the thought still made Vivian feel better.

She strode quietly down the abandoned street, making a beeline right for the harsh halo of light.

Then, the evil entity known as Murphy decided to rear his ugly head:

The streetlight flickered.

Oh.

It flickered again.

Oh, no.

It started flickering sporadically.

Oh, fuck me gently with a rake, no.

Suppressing the urge to run towards the failing light, for it would gather attention, Vivian could only watch as the bulb flickered twice more before completely dying out with a soft pop.

And, as if they had been waiting for that light to go out, a group of four shadowy figures chose that exact moment to bleed out of the mouth of an alley near Vivian, their outlines blurred by the darkness and the faint glow of the lights in the surrounding buildings.

Instinctively, she pulled the brim of her hat down over her face and glued her eyes to the littered cement as she neared them, so they couldn't see her face, and she wouldn't see theirs.

Vivian's heart hammered against her ribcage as she moved onwards, never breaking her stride. Her ears, going against her mind's wishes, picked up on some of their whisperings.

They were speaking in Italian.

Vivian didn't know too much Italian, but she had picked up a few words while living in a very Italian section of the Narrows.

Vivian was able to decipher two words.

Two simple words that rang with a sense of foreboding and a promise of destruction.

Two words: "fuoco" and "Maroni"

So…

Fire and Maroni?

Well, that sounded bad.

Vivian's senses seemed to sharpen as the danger fully registered in her brain, and she quietly cracked her knuckles. Time seemed to slow down as she neared the group, and her eyes darted in every direction, picking out good hiding spots and get-away routes.

Vivian peeked from beneath her eyelashes. They were looking-- no, glaring-- at her face and her feet. Her face, she could understand. But her feet?

Regardless of what they were staring at, Vivian straightened her posture and hardened her features as her hand inconspicuously clenched around her switchblade. If it came to a fight, she was sure to lose. Four against one weren't very good odds, especially when the members of the group of four were much larger than the party of one. But she wouldn't go down without a fight; it was against her nature to do so. Her flight response was a tad bit slow, never kicking in when it was supposed to. She was mostly fight, and her feet often propelled her at the danger, instead of away from it.

And if she was going down, then she sure as hell was going to take someone down with her.

After what seemed like a very long and tense moment, Vivian passed the men.

Their eyes were still on her back, but the grip on her blade relaxed a little, and she tried to relieve some stress by squeezing the strap that went from her left shoulder to the bag that rested on her right hip.

Keeping her ears sharp, Vivian took a deep breath and looked down at her shoes.

Her blatantly purple shoes.

And her purple and black hat.

Realization hit Vivian, and she let out a small, "OH!" of surprise, which robbed her of all the oxygen in her lungs.

Damn it. I just had to be all rebellious with the purple, didn't I? Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Purple. People, especially thugs who work for Maroni and the mob, connected purple with the Joker.

I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die in an alley because someone's going to think I'm associated with the Joker. I'm gonna die. Oh, holy crap, I'm going to die.

Vivian really stared panicking when her vision started going fuzzy around the edges.

Why in the name of everything good and shiny was her vision starting to waver?

Oh!

Vivian was suddenly aware of her fast and heavy breathing. She was hyperventilating.

Calm. Be calm. Damn you lungs! I command you to be calm! We are not going to die.

Vivian took a left onto her street, leaving the small cluster of men behind, and let her shoulders slump. Her nameless building was only a few steps away; it wouldn't do any harm to let her guard down now.

Now, if Vivian had done the smart thing and had kept vigilant enough to notice the suspicious characters that lurked around her building, she might have figured out that something less-than-moral was taking place beyond the doors of 596, 57th Street.

And, if Vivian wasn't so tired, she would have taken note of the numerous black SUVs that were parked outside of her building.

Instead, she ignored these things, and looked into the reflective plaque inscribed plainly with 596, wiping away some of her smeared mascara. Scowling at her windswept hair, Vivian took off her hat and threw up her locks into a messy bun, a few strands dangling out of place.

Vivian pushed through the doors with her bottom, putting her hat in her already heavy bag. Wanting nothing more than to sink into her bed and not wake up until noon the next day, she swiveled around quickly, intending on getting to her apartment without any interruptions.

But that jackass Murphy wasn't having that.

She bumped into a body. A large body.

"Oh! Excuse me," Vivian said, startled.

She reached up to the stranger's chest to push herself away and felt… a bump.

A gun shaped bump.

Vivian's hands shot to her sides and she finally took notice of the man in front of her. Her wild eyes quickly assessed his appearance: he was dressed in a nice suit that complimented his olive skin.

Vivian quickly put two and two together and her breath caught in her throat.

Eyes wide, Vivian leaned around the giant to look at the company behind him.

"Miss McCoy. How nice of you to join us."

Somewhere, Murphy was laughing like mad.