Author's Note: Hiho! So, I've decided to update 2 chapters in a row. One is ridiculously short and this one, well, it's rather long. I'm not sure which chapter length is best, so feel free to inform me about your preferences. :) I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and greatly appreciate any feedback.

Sophie really tried her best to stop moping around. She wanted to embrace life, to meet people, to see the universe's mundanities in an ever so bright light.

She had accepted being stuck again when it came to her novel and once again resolved to ignore the document on her computer to the best of her abilities.

It would have been a good idea to take care of her little blog project instead, but her mind craved to be confronted with extraordinary people. People who were potentially dangerous and thus far more exciting than herself.

As she could neither find a new project nor inspiration to continue with her old ones, Sophie resorted to unusual means.

She got a social life again.

Gina was happy to integrate Sophie in what seemed to be an incredibly large circle of friends.

And so, Sophie went to work and then out for coffee, for tea, for lunch, for drinks, for dancing.

At some point, she even went out for dinner with a friend of a friend of a friend, well, with someone Gina might have known.

His name was Oliver and due to his work as a records clerk, Sophie had initially found it rather interesting to talk to him. It was as close as she got to fascinatingly gruesome stories about court hearings.

Oliver was about her age, maybe a year older, and had bright eyes which were in a rather nice shade of green and accompanied by crinkles in their corner when he smiled. And for someone in his job, Oliver smiled a lot. Gina had been happy and rather pleased with herself when she had seen them both chatting at a party that she hosted.

Sophie was sure that a normal person would have been swept of their feet if they were targeted by his million-dollar smile. But Sophie once more concluded that she was a weird person.

Listening to him talking did not come anywhere close to meeting Victor Zsasz. Nothing he told her would ignite her creativity and make her wish she had brought a notepad.

Apparently, I need to be around criminals if I ever want to write another line, Sophie concluded disgruntledly as she slipped her wine unenthusiastically while Oliver told her about a case where a man had killed his spouse with an axe.

Oliver seemed as if he had hoped to send a shiver of awe down her spine and looked disappointed when all she could offer was a half-hearted "Oh, that's awful."

Am I becoming psycho? Before she moved here, Sophie would have been shocked. But Gotham appeared to desensitize its citizens rather quickly. Not this city, exposure to criminals. Or rather me trying to befriend criminals, she corrected herself. And it's normal to not really care so much about people you don't know, isn't it?

"Look at me, gabbling on about work", he paused to give her an opportunity to assure him that he wasn't or that she didn't mind. She let it pass. "while we should be talking about the cute girl in front of me."

Sophie was proud that she did not role her eyes at him. She thoroughly disliked being referred to as a 'cute girl'.

Oliver asked her about her hobbies and seemed as put off by her passion for literature as she was about his dislike for reading.

Moreover, Sophie was sure that Oliver was deterred by her poor small talk skills and still disappointed that his stories had not impressed her. Talking to him had been far more comfortable when they both were drunk.

They mostly ate in silence. As the only thing Sophie heard was her inner voice singing "awkward" in an imitation of various songs, she decided to focus on contemplating how she had gotten here, before accidentally saying the word out loud.

Why had she even agreed to go out with him in the first place? Just to find a substitute catalyst for her creativity? Because he had caught her off-guard when he asked her for her number? Because she had been drunk and felt flattered? Had it been out of boredom?

She couldn't say for sure, but she knew that she wasn't too proud of herself.

After they exited the restaurant, Oliver did not offer to walk her home to which Sophie let out a sigh of relief. She was thrilled to escape the awkwardness.

She buttoned her jacket and relished the almost clean air of the night.

One of the things Sophie liked most about having a long way home was that it gave her the opportunity to think and clear her head out. With a little bit of imagination, she could even pretend that the smog which was settling down at this time of day was simply fog and the street lights were stars.

What was I thinking? I hate dating. And all this hanging around large groups of people? I don't even like meeting new people. I find it exhausting to have more than a handful of friends.

She decided to return to normal. Well, her normal. Trying to behave like a normal person her age didn't do much for her.

Maybe she should try something new. Find a new passion and get what her parents would call a decent job. Sophie felt her spirits sink. She had wanted to be an author for as long as she could remember.

It was like the universe had wanted to send her a sign. Given that the universe had a rather twisted sense of humour.

The likelihood of her running into Victor Zsasz seemed to drastically increase whenever she went into a dark street at night.

Unfortunately, the bald man appeared to be rather busy at this point, as he had taken cover behind a car and gleefully pointed two guns at a number of men in front of them.

Sophie stopped at stared at the situation in front of her. The men in front of her had probably seen her ages ago while she was still too deep in thought to watch her surroundings.

It would have been nice to meet her criminal acquaintance under nicer circumstances, or at least circumstances that did not include violence, for once. She wasn't that fastidious.

She highly doubted that they would just let her walk past them and mechanically started walking backwards. She had passed a car just a minute ago, about thirty feet from here. If they did not start shooting before she was there, she probably had a chance.

The tension in the air was almost palpable as she slowly took another step back. She dared to give the bald man a quick glance.

He was watching her with squinted eyes and furrowed brows. Great, he's irritated. But at least he wasn't smirking.

The men's patience endured two more steps before the first gunshot rang through the air.

Sophie was amazed by how quickly and elegantly he could move.

In the blink of an eye, he had emerged from his cover and starting shooting at the men in front of them. Sophie saw a body fall to the ground, but it took her brain another couple of seconds before it could process that Zsasz had killed the man.

His aim seemed to be excellent- even while walking backwards.

At some point, he was standing right in front of her and continued slowly moving backwards.

"Move.", he ordered, as his back brushed against her body and Sophie still stood there dumbfoundedly.

Sophie obeyed and felt slightly dizzy as he maneuvered them behind the car, gripped her shoulder, and almost gently pushed her down into a crouching position.

She stared at him with wide eyes, unsure what to do. She didn't have to worry much about the latter. "Stay here." his expressionless voice commanded. He replaced his magazines so quickly that the motion looked blurry to Sophie, and left their hideout in an instant.

Sneaking a peak towards whatever was happening in front of the car did not occur to her. She focused solely on her breathing and the sounds and smells of guns being fired.

The quantity of shots seemed to decrease, and the gaps between the bangs got longer. Eventually, Sophie heard someone beg for his life- and being silenced.

Nausea rose in her and she could feel shivers down her spine. Not now, she pep-talked herself, I can feel sick later.

"You look pale", he commented joyfully. Sophie felt herself jump, she hadn't heard him coming back.

"Bad dinner", she replied. "Are you okay?"

His amusement seemed to rise at her concern. "Never better", he grinned at her, looking as satisfied as a child that had just built a pretty awesome river dam. Or destroyed one.

When she could no longer endure the way he was sneering down at her, Sophie struggled to her feet and almost fell over in the motion. Squatting on the floor for so long had put her off balance.

A firm grip on her upper arm kept her from falling and let go of her once she stood safely on her feet.

This man was confusing her. A lot.

Sophie stared at him in silence as he thoughtfully regarded her face.

"No questions tonight?", he asked in a dark, mocking tone, and nodded towards the dead men lying not too far from them with one arched eyebrow.

She had about a thousand of questions for him, but no idea where to start. And for someone who wanted to be an author, she also very little idea how to phrase them.

"How- ", she started, can you take on so many guys without getting a scratch? Be so happy after killing? Show no mercy? How have you been doing since I last saw you? What have you been up to?

"How does this job of yours work?", she asked with feigned confidence, "does your boss tell you to go somewhere and kill everyone?"

A childish part of her which longed for his approval thought that he might find her 'cool' if she acted nonchalant. As almost always, his face gave nothing away.

"I'm the boss's right hand.", he explained in what almost sounded like a purr, "Sometimes, I deliver messages and sometimes I deliver death."

Sophie could have sworn that he somehow saw the goose bumps on her skin through her clothes, because his facial expression turned into a broad grin.

She decided that she liked him more when he wasn't so smug. And perhaps that was what drove her to ask the next question.

"Why did you safe me?"

I could have been collateral damage the first time we met.

Her question swiped the grin right off his face and Sophie observed him furrowing his brows and pressing his lips together.

"You helped me. We're even now."

Sophie nodded, and they continued to stare at each other. She had hoped that he would give another reason, although she wasn't sure what she had wanted to hear.

She realized that she wasn't scared to look at him directly anymore. Yet, it was thrilling to meet his eyes. She had missed him. The thought made her flinch. It's just because he's 'exciting', she assured herself, I don't even know him.

"I should go home now. Thank you, Victor." She didn't want to leave, but in her emotional state, it seemed best to go before blurting out any questions she might regret.

He stepped aside and as Sophie walked away, she could feel his gaze fixed on her back, even after she had passed the dead bodies at whom she did not dare looking at. Strangely, being watched by him felt reassuring.

Once she got home, she took a shower and got comfortable under the warm covers of her bed. It took Sophie several hours to fall asleep and she blamed the recent rush of adrenaline and the traumatic things she had seen earlier that night for her insomniac state. But that wasn't the whole truth.

When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of Victor Zsasz.

Joice would never forget the sensation of the thing getting under her skin, although she would never be able to find the right words to describe it to anyone. She had stood at her window in the pose of a warrior and looked as impressive as a girl of eleven years could when it had crept through the opening like a shadow or a gooey liquid. Joice hadn't bothered with closing the window as she was sure it wouldn't have made a difference. It had poured into her room and filled it with an earthy smell, spread out to every corner, touching every piece of furniture, and everything she owned, while faintly swirling around her, as if it was not daring to touch her. Joice watched the distance between her and the matter lessen as it came closer and closer, feeling her heart beating heavily in her chest. At first, it touched her hands and feet. It did not feel like human touch, nor like petting an animal. It felt like the subtle tingling that sometimes occurs a millisecond before someone's skin was about to make contact with hers. It spread over her whole body, from her limbs towards her center, and eventually reached her heart.

"I am ridiculous", Sophie told the mirror. The image in front of her should be proof enough that she should be out of puberty by now. Be a good grown-up. Be rational. Don't have dreams about murderers, they are supposed to be nightmare-material.

She did not like the whole 'damsel-in-distress'-thing. She considered herself to be a strong and self-sufficient person. So, Sophie was sure that being saved by him did not make it on the list of things that made him appealing to her.

It was more that she interpreted this as him not wanting her to die. Which seemed flattering, coming from someone who wins his bread by murdering people.

In addition, Sophie could not deny that she was fascinated by, well, dark stuff. Perhaps she even needed being exposed to it in order to keep on writing her novel. She just wasn't sure when fascination had mutated into attraction.

The smart thing to do would be avoiding Victor Zsasz. Getting any closer to him and his line of work would be a danger to her physical and mental well-being.

But, wouldn't risking her health to some extent be worth it if it got her any closer to finishing her novel? Not indulging into her fascination was one thing, but not being able to write anything equaled giving up on her dreams and leading an aimless life.

That actually sounded worse to her.

Sophie stopped in her thoughts and rolled her eyes at herself. Why do I always have to be this dramatic? It's not like he offered to hire me as a colleague or anything. I cannot even say when I'll see him again. If I see him again, she hastily corrected herself.