Title: Razzle Dazzle Star Shine
By: Amanda
Feedback; sweety167@yahoo.ca
Rating: R
Disclaimer: the Batman characters, locations and myth are, sadly, not mine.
Summary: Don't you just hate it when men use you and control you? She does, and she'll use as many men as possible to seek her revenge.
Chapter Competed: April 7, 2004
Prologue:
The wind picked up, and the pair of young women pulled their coats tighter around themselves. The thin coats provided little protection over the short skirts and thin dress shirts, the official uniforms for waitresses at Last Call night club. Only now the night time hot spot was deserted, long after closing time, leaving the two women alone in the dark parking lot.
"I'll see you later Suzy," the tall, average framed brunette swept the hair out of her face.
"Take care doll," Suzy waved back on her way t the waiting car, and her driver boyfriend sitting less than patiently behind the wheel, "And Sara," the last call making the other woman turn back, "be careful."
The same warning came after every shift they shared together, since Sara insisted on walking home. And really, the drive would be out of the way for Suzy, well her boyfriend at least – the other direction and all.
"Will do," Sara smiled back, giving another wave before taking off in a brisk stride down the alley.
This was the same route she always took home – cutting through a pair of allies to reach the bright streetlights of Main Street in half the time, then only two more blocks to her apartment. And at the silence of three am, the city almost seemed peaceful. Currently the only sound was the hollow clunk of her heels on the dirty pavement.
Rounding off down the second alley, the few over-head lights had burnt out; casting the narrow space into darkness. Soon the hallow sound of her steps were echoed by flatter, heavier ones, quickly following hers. Or was that her imagination? She picked up the pace, breaking into a fast stride, and so did the others. They were matched, step for step. Typically the back alley was empty, so the suggestion of another presence made her nervous, scared even when she heard the breathing paired with the footsteps.
A new sense of panic drifted over Sara. She had no reasonable plan, outside of a desperate need to reach the end of the alley and appear on Main Street. But she didn't dare make any sudden moves yet, and risk an unprovoked attack. Instead she maintained her steady steps and ignored the thudding beat of her heart in her chest.
But what the girl didn't realise, having only moved to this dark city, was that most attacks were unprovoked: The acts of insane rogues, twisted minds or the morally deranged. In Gotham City crime was never a provoked reactions, it was vicious.
The footsteps and breathing sprang from the darkness in a form of a man, lunging at the walking woman. He sprang at her, forcing her against one of the brick buildings. He sprang, trapping her.
Sara shrieked, but the scream for help was cut off when the man wrapped his hand around her neck, slamming her head against the wall.
"Shh," he hissed into her face as he pinned her body with his own. His excitement of the hunt was obvious against her thigh. "I'm not going to let HIM break this up," his voice was thick and dark, in a way that made her sick.
She had no idea who the stranger ment, and she really wasn't concentrating on that. With as little as she had with her, she was concerned with fighting back. She began thrashing; her arms straining against his, her body attempting to lift him and her legs kicking. She was hoping for one, well-placed knee.
He, on the other hand, was cautious of it and growing continually impatient with her squirming. His hands wrapped around her neck again, holding her against the wall.
"I'm gonna like this."
He flashed a lip-curled sneer before smashing her head into the structured rock.
The force gave off a bright light then a cold dark.
* * *
A buzz of noises. Voices. Words. And sheering pain.
Sara opened her eyes to the blinding white light shining over her.
"Thank God she opened her eyes." She heard the words long before the uniformed woman crouched down in front of her.
"I'm officer Rita Sinclair," her voice was gentle, "You're going to be okay, so try not to move." Her lips stopped moving but Sara could still hear her words; "You'll never be really okay again. But you'll live."
A forced smile appear on the officer's face as she popped up to her feet and bellowed down the alley, "Can we get some her back here?!"
It was then that Sara noticed, in her strange dizziness, the chaos and movement around her. The dark alley was lit by artificial light now, and far from empty. The opened end was filled now with police cruisers and a flashing ambulance. From which two EMTs were rushing.
Sara had no clear recollection of what had happened to provoke such a crowd. All she knew was that she ached – throbbing pains all over her body and a head ache splitting her mind. Against direct orders she reached a tentative hand up to the back of her head, the source of her pain. Her brown hair felt matted and sticky, like a patch of hair soaked in blood.
At the sharp-shock induced gasp she felt her chest rip. Looking down she saw the thick red soaking through her shirt.
"Careful now," the male EMT quickly interjected, brushing Sara's hands away from the spot on her chest.
"We're gonna take care of you," a female appeared, a reassuring smile on her face. But Sara could hear her. "Oh god! Oh god…this is bad, this is bad." She could hear the EMT repeating those three words over and over like a mantra, but never once saw her lips move.
The pair of emergency personal poked and prodded at her, ensuring that they could move her to help her. Once they were satisfied, they lifted her onto the gurney – carefully pushing her to the waiting ambulance.
"It looks like the flying freaks didn't help her," a gruff voice actually scoffed as Sara's gurney was pushed by.
Rolling her eyes over toward the voice, Sara saw the figure as yet another police officer; a detective standing with the introduced officer Sinclair.
The female officer just shook her head, clearly disappointed, "I'll follow and get her statement at the hospital." She started to walk away, but stopped as if she was going to say something, only she didn't.
But Sara could hear it, "Batman isn't heat to do our jobs."
* * *
Another bright light woke Sara, only this was the white of a hospital room. She was still stiff and sore, but the spinning had stopped. Having the freedom now she reached for the blood soaked spot on her chest, finding a thick bandage hiding what, she didn't know.
"Miss Adams?" the officer from before poked her head into the room, obviously having found her ID.
Sara just looked at her, giving silent permission to enter. "What happened to me?" she spoke the question as soon as the other woman closed the door.
"I was hoping you could tell me," Rita gave her a sad smile again as she took the seat next to the bed. "Please don't make me tell you." And again there were words without anyone speaking them.
Sara was finding this growingly uncomfortable and confusing, "Don't want to tell me what?"
Rita Sinclair stilled in her movements, a look of shocked-disbelief crossing her face, "I…ah…I just want to hear what you can remember."
Sara watched the officer carefully, sure that that wasn't what she ment, "I was walking home and someone attacked me."
"Billy Young."
"Billy Young?" she was sure that she heard that.
Rita's eyes shot up from her notepad to the woman on the bed. She stammered to find words.
"Is that who did this?" Sara motioned to include the whole situation.
Opening her mouth to form a denial, Rita broke with an honest reply. "Yes. At least I think so…that slash on your chest, a star, is his trademark." She sighed sadly, as if a great weight was lifted as well as placed on her.
Sara moved her hand slowly to the bandage again, "Trademark…of what?" her voice was shaken, but she really had no memory beyond a man, this Billy, pinning her against the grimy wall.
"Oh God!" Officer Rita was new and nervous, "He…he attacks women…um, sexually." Rape cases always made her sick. "Don't make me say it."
"I understand. I won't make you say it," Sara replied to the unspoken request.
The officer was startled, that was the third time she could swear Sara had heard what she thought. "Can you hear me?"
"Of course I can hear you," Sara snapped almost defensive against the insane questions, "I want to know when you'll catch him, punish him!" Her tone was harsh and cold, detached.
Rita's eyes shifted around the room, she felt oddly exposed in the small room with the injured woman, but she needed to respond, "We can try, if you can give me a statement…details." "But I can't lie to her we'll never be able to punish him…Allen will never let his stoolie go down."
"Who's Allen?" Sara's eyes narrowed, a rage filling her.
"Detective Jake Allen, he's the lead on this case," Rita replied slowly, cautiously, "Why?"
"He's the one who laughed at me," an image of the detective standing next to the officer came to Sara's mind. She couldn't sit in bed now, instead she carefully rolled out of bed and padded over to the closet, fully intending to leave. She walked with a slight limp and great pain. The steps were slow.
The officer's heart went out to her, but she really didn't have anything to say. "I pity her, poor girl."
Sara could hear her clearly, and the idea of pity was an infuriating one. It just made her keep going, through the pain. Pulling the door of the small closet open she found that she lacked clothes, only large cotton pants and more open-backed gowns. But there was a mirror, and Sara caught the first glimpse of the new her: the blood had seemed to stain her hair a strange, murky purple. Her face was drawn and pale. Next she went for the large bandage taped on her chest.
Rita was also watching her.
She pulled off the sterile tap ad dressing, pulling it back to reveal the dark red slashes carved into her flesh. Seep, red cuts that still glistened.
"Usually the women don't survive that," the words slipped from Rita's mouth before she could stop them. Or was that a thought?
Sara ran her finger along the sticky gashes, not feeling the fresh pain. "I understand why people take the law into their own hands now." "And why I will…"
