The street was quiet. But it was typical in this neighborhood. It was far enough away from the major commercial and industrial sectors. And while the hum of the city was something you could never fully escape from, it was close enough to quiet here. Maybe a little too quiet.
She could hear her footsteps on the sidewalk. Clack. Clack. Clack. Rising above the electric buzz of the streetlights. Clack. Clack. Clack. Her pulse rose slightly. She had never felt unsafe here, but each step she took rang in her ears like a gunshot. What was that over in the doorway of the shop? A shadow moving…no. Nothing. Just a stray cat.
Her sister would tease her sometimes about the crime in Gotham. It wasn't worth the effort to explain to her that it really was as bad as everyone said. Probably worse. Killer clowns, lady cat burglars, human crocodiles…they were just the tip of the iceberg. Not to mention all the "normal crime" like gangs and the mafia.
A car started to approach from the other side of the street. It moved slowly, headlights off and heavy tint on the windows. 'Oh Jesus oh Jesus oh Jesus…' she thought, one hand tightly gripping the can of mace on her key chain. As it got closer she could see sparks popping from the street. The body of the vehicle had been lowered somehow. A gang car? A pimp? One of the 18 million psychotic murderers that inexplicably seemed to be drawn to Gotham?
It was nearly at her now. Something was making a chugging noise from inside. She thought for a moment how it vaguely resembled what a car's heart beat might sound like. Chug-chug-chug-chug. She had come to a stop underneath a street light, blatantly staring at the car. If she just kept walking she would pass it and everything would be okay. The car would go its way and she would go hers, and she'd get home and take a long, hot bath and forget this whole night. Yeah. If she just kept walking…
The car reached the spot across from her and stopped its incremental pace. She realized that she had stopped breathing, and that it might become a more permanent condition very soon. Her stomach muscles tightened. Her legs tensed. It felt as though her intestines were being twisted into a nice, painful ball in her abdomen.
But nothing was happening. No angry mob got out of the car to assail her. No windows were rolled down. No derisive comments made. The waiting was nearly as bad as anything. It wasn't like she wanted to be attacked. But she had to know what was going to happen, either way.
Something warm began to grow in her chest. Whether it was courage or one of her lungs collapsing didn't matter. She turned back towards the sidewalk and started back on her way home. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. God damn fucking heels, she muttered. The car stayed where it was. What the hell were they doing? Clack clack. Clack clack. Her paced quickened. Still the car didn't move. Clack clack. Clack clack. 'Oh fuck it,' she sighed, and started a full run for her apartment. Sure, it was still another eight blocks to her building. 'Better safe than sorry.'
The wind was knocked out of her and suddenly she couldn't see. Something, or someone, was holding her against a slimy wall. Her eyes darted around in every direction. One of the streetlights just barely managed to peek some light into the area. Was that one of her shoes on the sidewalk? So she was in an alley now. The stench brought her attention back to the drunken shape in front of her.
"Hey dair, pretty little thing…" he mumbled. His breath reeked of cheap whisky and cigarettes. His hands, one holding her wrists together and the other covering her mouth…they were warm and sweaty. Like damp washcloths. She couldn't really make out a face in the darkness. Just a mass of flesh and hair. His eyes pierced her though. There could be only one direction that this was heading…
"How's about we…" he stopped mid sentence, trying to swallow something down, "…we have us a little party, eh sweet thing? You like to party, don't you." She wouldn't have answered him if she could. The only thing she could think to do was use the mace, but his grip was too tight. His full weight pressed her against the wall. She couldn't even knee the bastard. For a second she wondered what the people at work would think when they heard about this. It wouldn't make the news. This was Gotham, after all. She'd be lost to the night like so many before her. But eventually her parents would wonder why they hadn't heard from her, and someone would find something. And what would they think? Would they blame themselves? Or would it be just another day. She could see her coworkers around the water cooler, casually discussing her fate."Oh, hey Bob. Did you hear about Melissa. Yeah. Raped and murdered a couple blocks from here. Nah. That was like a month ago. Yeah, she had a great ass. Nice legs too. Hey, did you get the tickets to that game tonight?"
She came back to reality as the man decked her, her body toppling into the filth of the alley. A bomb went off in her stomach. He had kicked her. Her mind refused to focus on the present. All she could think about was how much it would cost to get her outfit cleaned. She let out a weak gasp as he yanked her up by the hair. SMACK. She fell back down.
"Now we…" he gurgled again, "…we gonna have us some fun." The shape above her laughed. Like a kid at Christmas, ready to unwrap his present. His filthy hands moved to the fly of his pants. She knew that there was no god in Gotham, but she prayed silently to whoever might listen that she would have a quick death.
She closed her eyes in anticipation. A shadow came over her…there was a thumping sound. The shattering of a discarded bottle further into the alley. A wet snap. No one had touched her yet. She worked up the courage to barely open one eye. Nothing. Where had he gone? What were those noises? She opened the other eye and looked from side to side. Still nothing.
Shaking, she brought herself to her feet and turned around. Bits of glass from the ground had jabbed themselves into her palms, but she didn't notice. Further into the alley was nothing but shadows. She took a few steps out onto the sidewalk and glanced around. No, nothing. Nothing at all. Except…The man who had attacked her was now bound and gagged, suspended from a street light and hanging face down. Blood dripped from his face and onto the sidewalk below.
Her eyes widened. What the hell…She looked down either side of the street. Still nothing. She took one last look into the alley. And for the first time that night, she screamed. For the third time that night, she fell to the ground, this time landing backwards and on her rear. No one in the neighborhood seemed to notice the commotion.
There had been nothing there before, but now there were two very white eyes staring at her from the darkness. Lidless. No pupils. Slanted and menacing, just staring at her. No head or body to go along with them. She realized that she was half crying, half laughing. This just wasn't her night…
"It isn't safe here," the eyes rasped. Oh great, she thought. First that car, then the guy. Now eyes were talking to her. A…shape…came into view from the alley, nearly as dark as the blackness it came from. It looked vaguely human, but the head…the ears were freakishly long and pointy? Then she saw it. The black insignia on his chest.
"Oh my god…You're…you're…" The eyes continued to stare down at her. A gloved hand reached out to her.
"Take my hand." She stared at him as though he were an alien. After a moment she realized that he was offering to help her to her feet. She cautiously lifted one arm up and took his hand. It was strong. Unbelievably strong. Yet gentle.
Standing again, she stared into those narrow, white eyes for a while, an expression of child-like wonder on her face. The rumors…they were true after all. She'd heard about him on the news and all. But no one ever really believed…He was so tall. He must have been at least seven feet. "Do you live near here?" That voice again. Cold and sharp.
"Uh…yeah…I mean, no. I mean…why do you ask?" God, she sounded so stupid. But it isn't every day that you get saved by him. He just stared back at her, waiting for her mind to make the connection. "Uh…it's…seven or eight more blocks. That way." She pointed down the street in the direction where the man hung from the streetlight.
"Come with me." He stepped fully out onto the sidewalk, continuing into the middle of the street.
"Where?" There was a small beeping noise, a moment passed. Off in the distance she could swear she heard something growling. 'What now…' she sighed to herself. Her eyes bulged again as she saw the source of the noise. It was a car, or at least was supposed to be a car. It looked more like a rocket on wheels. Black as night. Sleek. The engine purred as it came to a stop in front of them.
The windshield slid forward, revealing two seats. "I believe this is yours." She stared blankly at him, then at the car. Then back at him. He was holding something.
"Oh…Oh." It was her shoe. "Thanks." She took it and hopped up for a second, putting it back on.
"Over here." She followed him around to the passenger side of the vehicle. The seats were leather and looked to cost more than she would make in a year. "I…my clothes. I don't want to…" He reached inside the car. There was a clicking sound as a compartment opened and shut.
"Here." He handed a large, thick towel to her.
"Thanks." She started to cover herself with it, then let out a small yelp in surprise. He had placed his hands on her waist and lifted her up and over the side of the car. "Oh…" She hadn't been expecting that. But then again, there weren't any doors that she could see for getting in and out of the car. She thought for a moment about how effortlessly he had picked her up. Before she could pursue that any further though, he was in the car as well, the top sliding shut and encasing them in darkness.
Various controls lit up on the dash, glowing softly in blue and white. The engine growled as it came out of its idle state. "Buckle up," he said, pressing various buttons. She found the straps to her left and right and slid them into position. They were tight against her chest, automatically adjusting themselves to her shape.
And then she was flying. Weightless. For a second she knew she had died. But as the street lights zoomed past on either side, she realized that they were still in the car. She could feel the motor rumbling in front of them. "It's…," she started.
A moment of silence. He kept his eyes on the road. "Yes?"
"My place. It's…the other way."
"I'm taking you someplace else."
"Oh…" How can he drive so fast? Where's the rest of the traffic? Where's he taking me? She thought a million things and nothing at the same time. He's not going to…He saved me from that guy so he wouldn't…Where's he taking me?
They rode in silence. Nothing but the hum of the engine and the occasional gear shift. She turned her head slightly, afraid to look at him but needing to know more. How could he drive like that? She couldn't see her hand in front of her face in this thing. The outline of his head was unmistakable though. The nose and the ears. And of course the eyes. Was he really a…is that a mask or a…
"What's your name?" he asked, his voice slightly warmer than before. Well, maybe not warm so much as…less cold.
"Uh…Melissa. And yours?" She felt like a complete idiot. He kept looking at the road. "I mean. You're…yeah. You're…you."
"What were you doing here. This place isn't safe at night."
She looked back out the side of the windshield. "I work around here. I was going home."
"What do you do?"
"Legal assistant…" she glanced back at him, waiting for him to make some kind of snide remark about being a secretary.
He continued, not missing a beat. "How do you like that?"
"It's…okay, I guess. Just something that pays the bills, you know?" She wished she could just sew her mouth shut. It was hard to picture him busing tables or delivering bike messages to help cover the rent.
"What would you rather do?"
"I dunno. I…well I've always liked to draw. But I wouldn't really know how to get a job like that. Movies? Cartoons? How does anyone get started in that business? Comics? Sometimes I think about just giving the whole idea up, but I dunno." Here she was, sitting in a menacing car with an equally menacing…man, and she was blabbering on about her career problems. 'Wait 'til Mom hears about this…' she mused.
Then…the car stopped. She understood now why there had been two shoulder straps. She would have conked her head on the dash without them. "We're here." He pressed a button and the top slid forward again. Before she could blink he was by her side of the car again, undoing her harness and helping her to the sidewalk.
"Where…?"
They were next to a clinic in one of the city's many run down neighborhoods. "They'll help you here," he said. "Treat any wounds. Clean you up. Let you get in touch with any family." An older woman stepped out of the front door and approached them.
"I think we can handle it from here," she said, a calm smile on her face. She didn't look scared at all, which in turn helped to calm Melissa's own nerves. The tag on the woman's jacket read 'Dr Thompkins'.
He nodded at them slightly and went back to the driver's side of the car. As he got in the seat he hesitated for a moment. He turned to look at them and spoke. "Good luck with your art, Melissa." The top slid back in the place. The engine growled again. And just like that he was gone.
"Oh…I think I have plenty to inspire me now," she said, taking the doctor's hand as they went inside.