She looked up at the sky; it was another starless night in Gotham City. The moon was a pale yellow as it had risen to become it's full self. She pulled her leather jacket more tightly around her tall, thin frame. She was glad she had worn it; winter was not pleasant in the city.

Her small heels clicked loudly through the empty streets. Her breath had become more visible as she picked up her speed, trying to get to her apartment on the other side of town. She thought she had heard something; she stopped suddenly and spun around. But there was nothing there.

Her hair bounced up and down with a certain rhythm unbeknownst to her. She loved her hair; it was a short pixie-cut and raven-colored. It was the color that she had been in love with since as long as she could remember. Mainly because her father had loved it so much. The thought of her father brought back a memory of him.

"Wake up sweetie, you don't want to be late!" Her father knocked on her door and opened it gently.

She giggled as she tried to remain motionless under her bed sheets. She hid at the end of her bed, curled up in a little ball.

"What? Now where is my little princess?" He asked mockingly, trying to sound worried.

It made her giggle harder, but she stifled it as much as a 6-year-old could.

"Nope, not in the closet." He made a spectacle of jumping to the floor as he looked under the bed. "Huh, not under there either. Now where is my little Innie?"

"Hey!" She sprung out from under her purple covers, "Don't call me that!" She stood up to her full height of the bed. Her long, dark curls ran down her back messily as she tripped over her nightgown, which was too big for her.

He faked gasped, "Why Corrine! Wherever did you come from?" He swooped her into his big arms and ticked her.

"Daddy! Stop it!" But she just laughed harder.

"C'mon pumpkin, breakfast awaits you!" Her laughter rang out threw the house and they went to breakfast…

The flashback made her smile. She missed her father so much; he wasn't supposed to leave her so early. Cancer was his demise, on her twelfth birthday. It was so hard…she thought, still walking, but not as fast.

She was already scarred from the death of her mother when she was five, a drunk driver crashed into their car on the way back from going to see a movie. The memory was vivid in her mind, even though she was young when it had happened. She still had a small scar from it; the glass had cut into her cheek.

She unconsciously rubbed her finger across the faded ridges; a habit that she only preformed whenever she was scared or worried.

Corrine definitely heard something, like movement behind her suddenly. She tuned around. "Whose there?" She demanded strongly, ready for anything.

She heard snickering, coming from the alleyway she just passed. "What's so funny?" She commanded.

As soon as she said that, a small gang of different sized men walked out of the shadows. All had a weapon of some sort; a chain, a bat, and some other objects that Corrine couldn't determine.

"Hey sweetheart, why don't you come a little closer, huh?" A large man two full heads taller then her stepped towards her. His gang members laughed.

"Get away from me you creep," she said as she started to walk away.

"Hey! He asked youz nicely, chica. I thinks youz should listen," Came little man barely up past her chin.

"That's okay, I'd rather not. Big, ugly, and stupid really aren't my type." She started walking faster. But the large man grabbed her arm, and got her purse instead.

"Hey boys, look what we got here!" He said triumphantly, holding it up

"Give that back you idiot!" She said, trying to make a grab for it.

He ignored her and opened it up, peering inside. He pulled out her I.D, and he tried to read it.

"Cor-inn-y P-U-mint," All his friends laughed at him. Him saying that sparked a memory.

After her father died, she was sent to live with her grandmother. But, she was really sick and she couldn't take of her properly. The government sent her to the Gotham City Orphanage for Catholic Children when she was fourteen. She remembered her first day.

"Settle down, children, NOW!" Said a nun who slightly resembled a crow. "We have someone new today. Corin-n-y B-U-mont." She said as she tried to read her name off a small piece of paper.

The fourteen-year-old Corrine stood up. She was beautiful as ever, still with her long raven-colored curls and bright blue eyes. "It's pronounced Cor-rin Bo-mont." She said it slowing, as if speaking to a younger child.

The nun looked at her; obviously no one has ever corrected her before today. "What? What did you say?"

"My last name is pronounced Bo-mont. It's French. Please do not insult me, or my family's backround by saying it like you're in Special Ed."

Everyone in the room stopped and stared at the new girl in utter disbelief. Even the little toddlers stopped playing and watched, for they knew what was going to happen.

"Why, I never!" Said another nun, her hand over her heart. "Young lady! I"

But the crow-like nun stopped her, "I'll take this one Beatrice." She walked over to where Corrine was standing and walked around her, like a vulture circling it's prey.

"What language to you and I speak, Miss. B-U-Mont?" She asked, peering down at her and circling her still.

Corrine, sensing where this was going answered, "Je parle francais." She answered in perfect French.

Smack! She saw a white-flash as the nun backhanded her across the face.

"Wrong! We speak English! English! We do not speak French here!" She said spraying her with her acid spit.

Corrine looked at her with white-hot anger. "Do not touch me again, you horrid woman!" She was prepared this time for another blow, but it did not come.

"This proves, that all the French are filthy pigs!" She said, finger pointed in the air. "Look at her, the French raise their children to be like this? A disgrace, simply a disgrace!" She pointed at Corrine, her gray eyes flashing.

Never, in her whole life had Corrine wanted to hit someone so much, this woman insulted her father, her mother…but she didn't. Her dad would never approve of hitting a nun. She just turned and walked toward the door that lead to her bedroom…

She was so angry that day for not hitting the nun. Now was a perfect time for revenge.

All the goons were laughing as he took out some tampons and pads form her bag, he dumped all the contents on the floor. She was seething now.

"Hey!" They looked at her, and she high kicked the large one in the face. "Ha!" She did it again. Blood streamed form his nose and mouth.

"What the-" He said, feeling the blood trickle down into his mouth.

She did another high kick, but left her heel dig into his neck and face as she walked up close to him and whispered in his ear, "It's pronounced Bo-mont." She struck her hand on her pressure point in his neck, rendering him unconscious immediately.

Corrine looked at the rest of his gang, they came at her. "Ha!" She kicked and punched her way threw the entire group, rendering each of them unconscious, one by one. But, there was another man left, and he had a gun.

Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead and down the rest of her face as she debated what to do. She was prepared to dodge the shot, but she didn't want to risk hurting herself for what was coming up in the following week. Suddenly she shouted out, "ROD!" Out of her purse, a small metal rod flew out and into her open hand.

The gang member looked at her dumbfounded, unaware of what was going on with this girl.

"Program zero six!" She yelled at it. Instantaneously, the rod changed, it folded in on itself until it altered itself to be a small handgun.

Quickly, she shot the gun at him, making the gun fly out of his hand into her outstretched one.

He looked at his own hand in shock, and then looked at her. Stumbling backwards, he quickly dashed away.

Corrine looked at the men on the ground before her. She picked up the contents of her purse off the ground and put them back. She shrunk her metal rod and put it it's pocket. She walked away form the scene thinking, the orphanage had hardened me well.