Chapter One:

A City of Villains

"All you have is your fire,

And the place you need to reach.

Don't you ever tame your demons,

But always keep 'em on a leash."

-Arsonist's Lullabye, Hozier

Anne strapped on her shoulder holster and jammed her Glock into it, before throwing a sweatshirt on as well, big enough so that no lumps from the weapon were visible. Her hair, which was long enough to be identifiable, she pulled into a bun and slipped a beanie on top of. With that, she gave herself a once-over in the mirror. Not bad. She had chosen combat boots for the day, great get-away shoes but also nondescript choices. Her pants were simple jeans, as she knew that choosing baggy cargo pants, while more practical when it came to concealing weapons, would've made for an outfit far too conspicuous, especially in broad daylight. On top of it all, her face was blank of any makeup, which would help with blending in.

Anne was going in search of an old friend of hers' today, Pari Khadem, a brilliant computer hacker who had helped with some of her past jobs. Anne's supply of informants may have been lacking since she had been out of Gotham for so long, but she didn't need an extensive spy network to find traces of Pari. She knew her friend well enough to notice telltale marks in hacking jobs the Gotham newspaper covered. And given that Anne could only find traces of Pari in Gotham-related jobs, she was confident that the girl was still living somewhere in the city. Granted, that hardly made the search pinpointed, but it was certainly better than nothing.

Satisfied with her attire, Anne made her way from the spare bedroom Kat had lent her, into the main living room. It was empty, as Katarina was gone for the day, spending time with her boyfriend. Sugar daddy, more like, Anne sneered to herself. Yesterday, after she had shared the tale of her past two years in Russia, her friend had been obligated to tell her story as well. Kat's situation had annoyed Anne more than shocked her; of course she had known that Katarina's blatant daddy issues would eventually manifest in a relationship quite like the one she had now, she had just been hoping it would be later on in life. He'll turn abusive yet, I just need to give it time. Then I'll be able to kill him without Kat becoming angry.

Anne's eyes found the small wicker basket next to the front door where Kat kept her car keys. It was empty. "Damnit Kat, can't ya have your boyfriend pick you up?" Anne hissed angrily into the air. She had no car as of yet, and since hotwiring one in the middle of the day, in Midtown Gotham no less, was more risk than she was willing to take this early on in the game, she resolved herself to the fact that she would be searching the city on foot. No easy task, but at least she would get her cardio in.

Slipping out the front door, she hurried down the three flights of stairs that led to the lobby of the apartment complex. Anne kept her head down on the way out; while she always used the fire escape to leave when she was in full makeup, she had figured that going out into the building with such a plain guise was safe enough. She wasn't planning on committing any serious crimes today, so the police would have no reason to be checking surveillance footage. In any case, Kat's apartment was only a temporary residence. Hopefully, Anne would soon be able to set up her own safehouse somewhere in the city, and therefore eliminate the need for all the extra precautions she currently had to take just to leave the apartment.

No one seemed to think anything of her, however, as she pushed out of the building and into the bright, spring sunshine. Gotham glittered before her eyes, glass panels dazzling against the sky, causing Anne to squint as she adjusted to her surroundings. The noise was overwhelming as well, flooding her senses with car screeches and human shouts. So fucking loud. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm her immediately agitated nerves; she would just have to do her best to block out the incessant sounds of humanity. God, I hate the city.

Recovering quickly from her irritation, she swiftly checked the opposite street for any suspicious characters before deciding to head right, falling into step with the steady flow of human traffic. Where to? Her brain whirled as she kept her eyes alert for any potential threats. She didn't trust Gotham, not even in broad daylight. This city had far too many villains for her to ever let her guard down.

Anne had already established that Pari would never settle in the Narrows, or anywhere in which her physical being was at serious risk. The girl was not much of a fighter - preferring to keep her illegal scams well contained in cyberspace - therefore, Anne was sure Pari would've chosen somewhere well-to-do within the city. She had the money for it, and she was adept enough at covering up her digital footprint that she need not fear the police locating her. The Palisades, then? But even as the thought crossed Anne's mind, she dismissed it. It just wasn't Pari's style. The Diamond District? That seemed more realistic, it was home to the corporate giants, such as Wayne Enterprises, which Anne knew would attract Pari to the area.

Her mind made up, Anne directed herself towards the Diamond District, starting the long trek there. As she walked, she thought over her plan for assassinating the Joker. From what she had found during her research in Russia, the man was a genius, a complete psycho, sure, but also a genius. He was currently being held in Arkham Asylum, following his last battle against the Batman nearly a year ago. But Anne doubted he would be staying there for much longer, if anything she had read about him was an indication. She assumed he was planning his escape this very moment, which was one of the main reasons she was so keen to pull off the hit quickly. For now, she knew exactly where he was and could develop a plan to break into Arkham (as she was currently doing). However, if he escaped, his location would suddenly become exponentially harder to pinpoint. She had surmised that the Joker was quite good at hiding himself in the city, as even Batman had never been able to find him when he didn't want to be found. Anne may have been a good tracker (Russia was quite a bit larger than America, and much more isolated, which made tracking people in the US a piece of cake in comparison), but she didn't like her chances against this man.

It's a pity that Mikhas wants him dead. A cold breeze shot into Anne's face as she hurried across an intersection, dodging a stray car which hadn't stopped for the light. He seems, by far, to be the most interesting mark I've ever had. But she knew the Bratva bosses didn't choose who to kill based on how interesting they were. And there was a reason Mikhas had sent Anne halfway across the world to murder a madman neither of them had ever met: the Joker was incredibly bad for business. He had effectively rendered the mob useless during his reign over the city last year, as Anne had been told by an agitated Mikhas, and since Gotham was one of the Bratva's main sources of income, he could not be allowed to continue his destructive life. And while Mikhas knew that the Joker was now incarcerated, he didn't trust him to stay that way.

A huge skyscraper came into view as Anne rounded a corner, pulling her from her thoughts. "Wayne Enterprises," she murmured to herself, reading the giant lettering across the building. She was in the Diamond District. Not only was the Wayne company building evidence of that, so too was the sudden change in the people surrounding her. She began to notice much more Gucci and Chanel as she scanned the crowd, snorting in derision as she saw a lean man, decked out in what must've been thousands in luxury clothing, walking a rather stupid looking dog.

I could kill him, she thought, eyeing the haughty man. But no sooner had the idea crossed her mind than the reasonable voice in her head won out. She had a mission to complete, and very limited time; she couldn't get distracted. It also dawned on her that she didn't really have a plan to find Pari. She knew her friend well enough to understand that she wouldn't be using her real name, living instead under an alias, which would only serve to make the search harder. Nor could Anne use any high-tech computer programs to scan a photo of Pari's face for possible leads, as she was rather hopeless when it came to electronics, and Kat was no help in that department either.

Anne scanned the streets for anything that would give her an indication of what to do next. A post office caught her eye. Maybe Pari had some new tech delivered recently? Deciding she might as well start somewhere, she nonchalantly slipped into the alleyway next to the post office, hurrying to the back of the building. She was just about to try the back door when a woman, dressed in a guard's attire, came ambling out of it, cigarette clutched in hand. Anne skirted back around the edge of the wall immediately, waiting until she heard the door close to sneak another look. The woman was young, around mid-thirties, and almost as slim as Anne. She only had to give the uniform a single appraising look to judge that it would fit her.

Wasting no time, Anne strode out of her hiding place, approaching the guard from behind. She was on the woman in a mere second, arm hooked around her throat, choking the life out of her as the cigarette spluttered from her mouth. This method of killing was decidedly messy, but Anne couldn't risk the gun in the Diamond District, it would attract too much attention. As it was, Anne was already paranoid that someone was watching her from a window.

The guard went slack in her grip in no time, her feeble attempts at fighting rendered useless. Immediately, Anne began stripping the body, changing out of her own clothes in the process, and stashing her gun safely behind a dumpster. As soon as she was dressed, she ripped open the back door of the building, happy to find it unlocked. She knew she had to be fast, the guard uniform would only fool the cameras for so long. Soon, someone would realize she was not the same woman who had stepped outside, and then she would be in serious trouble.

As she made her way through the back hallways of the post office, she shoved open door after door, searching for a computer or file cabinet. Thankfully, the only person she encountered along the way was an unkempt man practically racing through the halls. He didn't even spare her a second look. Glancing after him, Anne didn't see the door directly in front of her until she was crashing through it. Startled and rubbing her sore elbow, she regained her balance fairly quickly, scanning the room she had just stumbled into. To her great delight, she found that it held a couple computers alongside several filing cabinets. Bingo!

She locked the door behind her and pulled a chair up to one of the monitors. There were no cameras in the room, thank God, but that still didn't eliminate the possibility of someone digitally retracing her steps and finding out what she had been searching their database for. She couldn't risk that, so she resolved herself to destroy the computer when she was done with it, in order to protect her own identity, as well as Pari's, should Anne find her alias here.

The computer had a password, but as hopeless as Anne might've been at complicated hacking jobs, she could easily manage the filing computer of a second-rate post office. She was in the system in no time, scrolling through the certified-mailing digital receipts for the Diamond District. The receipts offered limited information, only the name of the recipient and the company the package had shipped from. But a name would be better than nothing at this point, and it would also confirm to Anne that Pari was indeed living in the Diamond District.

As she scrolled, Anne saw receipts for several packages which had shipped from tech companies, but most of them were either delivered to people with male names, or women with names that Anne was willing to bet her right arm on Pari would never use. Come on, come on… Anne jiggled the mouse impatiently, her gaze flicking from one name to the next, until she finally saw one that caught her eye.

"Madi Kadivar." Her lips formed the name even as her mind lit up with happiness. Anne saw that the package had been shipped from Apple and felt her smile widen. It had to be Pari, the name was exactly something the hacker would come up with as an alias.

"Perfect." Anne grabbed a small slip of paper and a pencil, writing the name down, before slipping it into her back pocket. She didn't have to worry about leaving fingerprints behind; she had never been arrested, therefore neither her prints or DNA would be in any police database. With that thought in mind, she had no qualms either about manhandling the computer she had just used. She quickly logged off before reaching down and yanking the hard drive out. She crushed it underfoot, kicking the remains into a corner, then turned on her heel and exited.

Thankfully, the hallways had remained empty during her time in the filing room, so she was met with no suspicious glares or once-overs as she practically skipped to the back door, slipping from the post office as quietly as she had entered. With any luck, no one would ever realize she had been there and the guard's death would remain a mystery.

So much for not committing any serious crimes today, Anne thought, cursing herself inwardly as she looked down at her latest victim, who looked pathetic stripped of her uniform. But Anne would soon remedy that. She located where she had stashed her own clothes and gun, and changed back into them at lightning speed, lest anyone decide to walk down the alleyway and stumble upon her.

Once she was changed, she pulled the guard uniform back onto the corpse, for no real reason other than she felt like it. She left the woman exactly as she had died, with one small change: she took her phone. Anne had not gotten around to buying one yet, and she figured that a corpse had no more use for one. She wouldn't keep the phone, of course, she knew how easy it was to track them. But, currently, she needed to make a call.

Anne had very few phone numbers memorized, but since Kat was the only person in the city whom she could rely on, she had made it a priority to remember the girl's number. Typing it into the phone, she listened impatiently to the dial tone as she picked her way out of the alley.

"Hello?" Kat's casual-but-polite greeting made Anne crinkle her nose in amusement.

"Hey, Kat."

"Anne? Why are you calling me on a random phone?" Katarina's voice sounded confused for half a moment, even as it grew softer. Doubtless because the absolute last thing the girl would've wanted was her boyfriend finding out about Anne.

"Well I don't exactly own my own cell phone," Anne responded, letting Kat hear her smile. It would do well to charm her friend before asking her the favor, and that meant playing nice.

"So you just fucking stole one?" Kat's voice held a hint of amusement, underneath the blatant exasperation.

"Are ya even surprised?" Rather than correct her, Anne decided it would be better if the girl thought she had only swiped a living person's phone. While her friend was technically aware of what Anne did for a living, the contract killer had a feeling Kat liked to forget about that small detail most of the time, for her own conscience's sake.

Kat's derisive snort was loud in Anne's ear as she said, "No. I swear I can't even leave you alone in the apartment, you're too much of a hazard to Gotham."

Anne thought that was a little rich coming from a woman who was currently with her violent criminal of a boyfriend. "Darling, you're dating a drug lord." At her words, Anne swore several passersby stared at her in open worry.

Kat actually chuckled in response, and Anne was suddenly reminded of the best friend she had left behind two years ago, the one who had laughed at everything. She wondered why Kat hadn't shown that side of herself more since Anne's return. Perhaps she was still wary of Anne, given she didn't really know the woman who had suddenly reappeared after two years spent in Russia, refining the art of being a monster.

"Fair enough." Kat's voice ripped Anne back to the current conversation, and she shook her head as if to clear it before responding.

"Uh huh. Anyways, I called cause I need a tiny favor." Anne's eyes traveled along a row of apartment buildings as she spoke, her mind wandering.

"A favor?" Kat's tone betrayed her disbelief. Whether her disbelief was at the fact that Anne had the balls to ask anything else of Kat, after she was already doing so much for her, or because she couldn't believe that was truly all Anne was calling for, was anyone's guess.

"Yeah. I have a name I need to find an address for, and I figured wherever you were with Rob would have a computer capable of doing that." Anne would've done it herself, but the filing computer at the post office hadn't been hooked up to the internet, and she hadn't wanted to risk going to the trouble of finding another computer in that place, given that the Diamond District was one of the few areas in Gotham where cops actually responded to distress calls quickly. And Anne couldn't risk getting caught, especially not this early on in the game. It would fuck everything up.

"Well, yeah, but…" Kat lowered her voice further, so that she was practically speaking in a strained whisper. "This isn't someone you're gonna kill, is it?"

"Nah," Anne laughed in reply. "I think I've found Pari."

"Oh shit, really? She's that one computer genius, right?"

"Yep, but I need to find her address. Can ya do that for me, sweetheart?" Anne stopped before the skyscraper which served as the headquarters to Wayne Enterprises, leaning casually against a concrete wall as she surveyed the three-pieces coming out of the building. They all had blank looks on their faces, with dull, disinterested eyes; but that didn't surprise her, most people did.

"Probably. What alias is she going under?" Anne heard Kat shuffling around, and she surmised that the girl was going to find a computer where she could work in private.

"Madi Kadivar." The distinct sound of someone typing followed her words.

"Uh… yeah, hold on." Kat mumbled into the phone, a generous amount of background noise still blaring into Anne's ear. "Here, found it. It's 2 East 8th Street, Terrence Apartments."

Anne felt a smile come unbidden to her face, just as a man in a perfectly tailored suit stepped out of the revolving doors of Wayne Enterprises. She recognized him immediately as Bruce Wayne, the billionaire playboy who owned the building he had just exited. He'd be a piece of cake to kill. The thought crossed Anne's mind as Wayne passed her on the sidewalk, barely sparing a glance in her direction. He looks so oblivious. I could just walk up behind him and…

"Anne?" Kat's voice ripped her back to the present.

"Yeah, sorry, I was thinking." Anne pushed off of the wall she had been leaning against and began walking in the direction of Pari's supposed address. "Thanks a bunch, darling, I owe ya one."

"You owe me a shit ton, not just one," Kat corrected her immediately.

Anne had to laugh at that, turning down a street as she checked over her shoulder for tails. She understood that it was highly unlikely anyone - minus Kat - knew she was in Gotham, but she could never be too careful. There were plenty of criminal organizations who would pay a pretty penny for the head of the Bratva's prized Roulette. She had earned a reputation while in Russia, which was never a good thing for a contract killer. It shortened their lifespans considerably.

"Fair enough." Anne brushed past a man wearing what appeared to be a thousand-dollar coat as she finally responded to Kat. "I've gotta go though, I'll see ya back at the apartment."

"Bye, be careful."

Anne snorted derisively at that statement as she hung up. Looking down at the phone, she broke it in half, wanting to dispose of it as quickly as possible - she hated having anything on her which held the ability to be tracked. Her gaze found a trash can on the side of the street, and she tossed the broken pieces as she passed it, never breaking stride. Now, to find Pari.

Anne was close to the address Kat had given her, no more than a five minute walk. She had been right in assuming Pari would've taken to staying in the Diamond District, as the girl had always liked a higher style of living. However, given that it was in fact the Diamond District, Anne would have a difficult time getting into the apartment building. She clearly didn't look like someone who lived in a wealthy apartment, and she couldn't scale the building and enter through a window; there were too many eyes, she would get caught. She supposed she could just walk in after someone, catching the door before it closed. It would be risky, but Anne was used to risk, and if someone questioned her, she would merely lie her way out of it.

Her plan worked better than she could have possibly hoped. Right as she reached the double doors which led to the lobby, a man carrying a large package slipped his keycard into the locking mechanism, before yanking open the heavy door. How suspicious will this be? Anne pondered to herself as she hurried towards the closing door. Ripping the beanie off her head, she made a split second decision, calling out, "Oh, hold the door!"

The man, who looked to be in his forties with a rather pudgy frame, turned back to look at her immediately. Anne had already shoved her beanie into a sweatshirt pocket, and had an innocent smile pasted onto her features.

"Do you live here?" The man's suspicion was evident as he squinted at her, however he held the door for her all the same as she slipped into the lobby, which Anne supposed meant that he didn't fully mistrust her.

"No," she laughed out her response, meeting the stranger's gaze. "I'm just surprising my cousin."

"Your cousin?" He closed the door behind him, fully turning to face Anne. She heard the lock click into place and realized that she couldn't misstep now, she was essentially trapped.

"Yeah, I'm visiting from Colorado for the weekend. But I didn't tell them I was." Anne noticed several passersby glancing curiously in her direction, clearly noting how out-of-place her cheap outfit was in the Diamond District. Suddenly eager to scurry from the lobby as swiftly as possible, she began making her way to the apartment directory, her eyes scouring the plaque for Madi Kadivar.

"Wait-" The man began to call after her, but she was already waving her departure, thinking that the sooner she left that stranger's side, the better.

"Thank you for holding the door!" Anne called over her shoulder as she came to stand before the directory, casting a wary look in either direction as she did so. She found Pari's alias in no time, tracing her finger over the black lettering. Fifth floor, apartment 14C.

She was flying up the stairs in no time, thankful that she had kept in good shape during her duration in Russia. It was not so long ago (four years, to be precise) that a sustained race upstairs would've knocked the wind from her. But nowadays, Anne couldn't afford to be out of shape, it would kill her.

The smell of expensive perfume hit her as she hopped the last step to the fifth floor, her feet colliding with the spongy carpeting most wealthy apartment complexes favored in Gotham. The sickly sweet odor sent Anne's head spinning, and she rubbed her temple with a free hand while she continued walking. She couldn't wait to get to Pari's so she could smoke freely, as out in the hallway she knew she couldn't risk it. A cigarette would only serve to draw more attention to Anne than she was already getting.

Head still throbbing from the smell of whatever noxious chemicals were found in perfume, Anne traipsed down the large hall, gaze swiveling from side to side as she checked the numbers on each door. 8C, 10C, 12C…

Yes! She came to apartment 14C, and knocked without hesitation. She felt a shadow of happiness within her at the prospect of seeing her friend again after two years. Pari had been essential to Anne's jobs when she still worked in Gotham, hacking into surveillance cameras and databases alike. It was one of the reasons Anne had risen so quickly in the Falcone crime ranks, despite only being 16 at the time; she had a brilliant hacker on her side, something most contract killers didn't have the luxury of using. Pari was a secret she had never revealed to Carmine Falcone, preferring to allow her boss to think she was merely that good. Even back then, she had understood that her reputation needed to be better than any other killer's, as it was the only way she could be taken seriously as a girl in organized crime. Despite this, she had still been ridiculed on the regular; even in the Bratva, she was still thought of as something of a joke. The worst joke ever told. But the Bratva had incorporated her after she had already earned a couple years of experience with Falcone, so they had at least respected her ability to kill, and her favor with the bosses.

Footsteps from within the apartment jerked Anne's attention back to the present, and a second later the door was being yanked open. Anne, who had expected to see Pari, was surprised to come face to face with a dark-haired man, no older than 25. He was wearing a look of uncertainty on his face as he scowled down at her.

That's interesting. Anne smiled up at him, her brain whirling as she tried to reason out what was happening. "Is Madi Kadivar here?" Her tone was soft as she spoke, attempting to come across as non-threatening. But she could tell the man wasn't fooled, his gaze took in her baggy sweatshirt quickly, before refocusing on her face. His frown deepened.

"No, she doesn't live here anymore." The waver in his voice, combined with the darting eyes, told Anne all she needed to know about the truthfulness of that statement.

She raised her eyebrows slightly, allowing the man to see the confidence in her expression strengthen. He must know she realized he was lying, it was too obvious. "Really?" He nodded once, sharply, in response. "Alright. Then where's Pari living now?"

He blinked slowly, a note of panic beginning to creep into his features. "How do you know her real name?"

"Oh, so ya do know her." Anne checked the ceiling, searching for cameras as she debated forcing her way through the doorway. "Lovely, if you could just go get her for me, that would be wonderful."

"Why do you want to see her?"

"I'm an old friend." Anne knew it sounded cliché, and borderline ridiculous, but at this point she was impatient to leave the hallway, out of the view of any potential cameras. "Who are you?" Her voice turned accusatory, not because she truly cared who this man was, but because she assumed her suspicion would throw him off.

She was right; immediately he stepped back, mouth opening as though he wanted to say something, before snapping it shut quickly, presumably thinking better of it. "That's none of your business," he finally landed on.

Oh my fucking god. Anne's patience was running thin, however pulling her gun on this man, while extremely tempting, was also incredibly stupid, given that any number of apartment security personnel could be watching her at this very moment. And she was already attracting enough attention as it was.

She opened her mouth to snap back, when a movement behind the man caught her eye, a mere shadow of a figure shifting positions. But it was enough to grab her attention. She stepped forward to push her way inside when a new voice broke through the silence.

"Anne?" It was Pari.

Note: Just thought I should mention Anne is an incredibly unreliable narrator and she sees the world through a very altered lens, so keep that in mind while reading from her perspective.

Up Next: Roulette breaks into Arkham and finally comes face-to-face with the Joker.