Chapter 1 - "Sean O'Malley"
Gotham's winds whistled through the alleyway, the only sound aside from the distant honking of car horns, police sirens, and a far-off gunshot. Sitting, back pressed against an old brick wall that had been standing for who knew how long, Sean O'Malley ran his fingers over the edge of his Bowie knife, staring down the dark abyss of the alley.
Ever since he had been nabbed by the GCPD in a surprise raid, Sean had been forced to lie low. The Gotham branch of the Irish mob was losing ground just weeks earlier. Maybe a month? The Falcone crime ring had been massing power and moving into all territories of the corrupted town, backed by some new funding partner.
Falcone's new partner wasn't necessarily new to Gotham, or even its seedy underworld. But he was new to this particular facet of it. Oswald Cobblepot was the root of a company bearing his name, though its honest work hardly could be attributed to his skills. No, they were more routinely applied to a more unclean aspect of the Cobblepot name, one that his parents would've shuddered at had they still been alive to see what depths their prestigious name had sunk to.
But Sean wasn't too concerned about the politics of Gotham. Since he had been grabbed by the cops, he was constantly on the search for a way out of jail. Sure, he did want to return to the streets and continue to make a living, but he wasn't your usual, clear-cut villain.
Actually, the very center of Sean's shady career was a heartwarming, familial purpose.
Hailing from Ireland, Sean had grown up on a farm. It was the beautiful, picturesque locale that Old McDonald himself would've grown green with envy at. His father, a city boy named Paul, had decided to move to the isolated countryside with his new bride, Grace, and start a new life, far from the hustling and bustling life he had known for so long.
A new family followed shortly thereafter. First came Sean, the first curls of red popping from his head much earlier than anticipated. Then, three years later, his sister Mary was born. The two grew up close as ever, and the family was happy. Yes, there were a few clashes—Grace was hereditarily religious, and Paul wasn't much for the church life—but they were always worked out easily, usually with Paul giving in to his beautiful wife's whims.
Things were unfortunately not always the picture book tale, though. When he was fourteen, Sean was awakened by voices outside. After carefully tiptoeing down the stairs, he entered the kitchen and gazed outside with curious eyes, and he saw his mother and father, the latter arguing with a man clad in the white coat Sean was able to associate with scientists and other lab workers. He was flanked by three men, none of whom looked quite friendly.
The scientist spoke with a voice that would take a lot of work to forget, and he was chiding Paul about something to do with a mutagen that had been stolen, and how he now owed him a debt. The next moments were forever burned in Sean's mind: one of the three men behind the scientist stepped forward, plunging a knife right through Paul's ribs.
Eyes opened wide, Sean stumbled back as his mother's screams sounded before they were cut off by a gurgle. When he glanced back, he saw her slumped over next to his father. Both were dead, pools of blood forming around them. Sean took off up the stairs, where he found Mary in her bedroom. She was awake and wrapped tightly in her blankets, terrified—as she rightly should have been. Then, Sean heard a crash downstairs . . . and everything else was cloudy.
Even now, the thoughts still gave Sean shivers as he remembered the stories he had been told by neighbors and Friar Murphy, who was an old priest close friends with Paul. The story went that the Gardai, Ireland's police, responded to reports of screaming and found the renowned farmer and his fair wife slain on the doorstep, and three men wearing gas masks dead in the house. Sean had been found with Mary, and neither spoke. Mary grew terribly ill, and soon fell into a coma of sorts.
Friar Murphy had funded Sean and Mary to Gotham, where she was to undergo extreme care from the best physicians money could buy. The only problem was a lack of funds, and that's what led Sean to the streets. The only way he knew to raise money for his sister's treatment was to steal, and so he did.
His mind restored to the present moment, Sean breathed softly. Having been just released from jail only a few days, he needed to lie low to avoid being put in the GCPD's spotlight again so quickly after his release. He hadn't even contacted the mob yet, was afraid it might put him right in the center of action once again.
A grin appeared on Sean's face, an aspect of his appearance that could only be outseen by one other feature, his fiery red curls. Now thirty-one, Sean looked every bit as old as twenty-five. His tanned skin and green eyes complemented his red hair, and a well-built body was the perfect channel for his . . . unique abilities.
Sean climbed to his feet, returning his blade to its resting place beneath his jacket. The only thing he could remember of the men breaking into his house was the scientist talking about how he had finally recovered his beloved mutagen, and he would have his "revenge" on Paul for stealing it in the first place. Sean was injected with the serum first, as he was the most combative of the siblings. He didn't even know if Mary had put up a fight.
When he reawakened, Sean had found he had superhuman strength and speed, which could be triggered at will by racing his metabolism even faster than usual. Such expense of his body would cause him to become very tired and worn out, and he would have to replenish his energy through food and sleep.
No one had any proof of it, but Sean was fairly adamant that he had been the one to kill the three gas-masked men in his house that night. Extreme usage of his super strength could kill a man with one punch—he had found that out easy enough in a gang fight one time. But could he have really killed three men when he was just fourteen?
"Not a spectacular upbringing, I imagine," Sean had said on more than one occasion, but he mumbled it once again now. He began to walk down the alleyway, the smell of someone grilling hamburgers flaring up his nostrils. His grin only grew wider; he knew the smell like the back of his hand. The Hungry Feeling, the Irish pub he called home, was also home to the best burgers in Gotham—at least in an old-school Irish boy's modest opinion.
He kept walking, checking over his shoulder out of habit. He doubted the GCPD would have officers patrolling in this part of town; gangsters were known to frequent it, and the police had decided long ago that they'd only venture out there if they were called. They weren't going to walk into danger with open arms.
Sean kept walking, hands in his pockets, as he slipped into The Hungry Feeling. "Oi, Sean my boy!" the burly proprietor/chef/bartender named Finn called out, waving a thick arm to the newcomer. He spoke with a thick Irish accent, even thicker than Sean's. "Haven't seen ya in ages. What's been keeping ya?"
"Business, I'm afraid," Sean replied. What kind he wouldn't mention; wouldn't do for prying ears to pick up on his dealings, and he didn't exactly want to publicize his incarceration. While he did do some extreme things to help his sister, he didn't want everyone to know what his line of work was.
Changing the subject quickly, he piped up, "You got one of those nice-smelling burgers ready for a hungry tenant? Assuming I still have a room, that is."
"Of course you do, my lad. And," Finn started, reaching behind him, "I happen to have a burger fresh off the grill. No one's claimed it, until now."
He passed the plate to Sean, who took it gladly. He reached for his pocket before Finn stopped him. "Woah, woah, woah! You already paid me in advance for your room, and seeing as how you didn't use it for so many weeks. . . ." Finn shrugged, as if he had given Sean a complete sentence. "It's on the house. Welcome back, Sean."
Sean gave Finn the response he was best at; a grin. "Thanks, Finn." He turned and started up the stairs, entering into his room, designated by the number 2242. As he entered in, he placed the plate with the burger on his counter, before peeling off his jacket.
As he did so, a beep sounded from his pocket. Sean reached and withdrew his phone, answering it. "Sean O'Malley."
"Mr. O'Malley," a deep voice sounded. It was one Sean knew, and he didn't really appreciate it calling him. "I've got a proposition for you," Commissioner James Gordon slowly, coolly said.
Sean gulped before answering. "Look, Gordon, I just got through serving my time. I haven't done anything since I got out. If you're trying to pull—"
"Relax, Mr. O'Malley. The GCPD isn't hunting you down. Well, at least not in the way you're insinuating. I've been appointed to offer you a job."
Silence ticked past in seconds before Sean took the initiative to continue. "What kind of job?" he asked, skeptical—and worried.
"Mayor Hill, District Attorney Dent, and myself have collaborated with some of the biggest funding partners in Gotham, and they've pledged—along with the federal government—to find a solution to the rash of crime Gotham has been experiencing. Namely, the crime families. Falcone and Cobblepot."
A solution? To Falcone? Sean couldn't resist letting a smile lick at his lips. "What are the details?"
"This solution is called the Titan Movement. It's an organization designed to stop trouble before it really gets started. We've gotten word something's brewing in Gotham, something big and something bad. We want to stop it before it gains traction. And to do that, we need a strong solution. People like you."
Sean winced inside at the final sentence. "What do you mean, 'People like you'?" he asked, afraid of the answer.
A sigh came from the other end of the phone line. "Look, O'Malley—I'll just cut to the chase right here. We know that you've got some . . . powers. We checked up on you in Ireland and found out about what happened to your parents and your sister." A few more seconds of silence passed, then, "If you help us, we will make it worth your while. Money that can be used to help her—and yourself."
Sean didn't need a second thought to decide. "I'm interested. When do we meet?"
Author's Note: Here it is, the beginning of our journey! In this chapter you got to meet Sean O'Malley, the first member of our crew. What did you think of the character and the start to the story as a whole? Leave a review and let me know! I'll be back with chapter 2 soon!