The alley concealed Cathy deeply in shadow, but not enough to blend in seamlessly. She didn't want to just hide, though, she wanted to disappear entirely, out of this horrid place. The thought was already like a broken record in her mind. For weeks on end, she was frequently angry with herself for stubbornly staying behind during the evacuation, even hated herself for it. Her living space of two years was no Wayne Manor, but, at the time, it was the principle of the thing.
There was no anger anymore now, not when fear left no room for it.
When Arkham City went live, the hope was over, and the people left behind scattered. Cathy had no idea if her neighbors managed to get out or if the prisoners got to them first, and the thought haunted her for all this time during self-captivity. She burrowed her chin in her jacket's collar, fighting back the sting in her sinuses. She wanted to go home to her dad.
Brian Jacob had begged his daughter to leave Park Row as soon as plans commenced for the establishing of Arkham City. Cathy told her dad not to worry, that the plan would fall through, that the mega-prison was too much of a rights violation to pass. As soon as the containment border was set, innocent people trapped inside were refused allowance to leave. Some managed to escape by bribing TYGER guards, but others with nothing of worth were viciously turned away while looking down the barrel of a sniper rifle, poised to shoot if a single objection arised.
Timidly, Cathy craned her neck to the sky to get her bearings, though it felt discomforting to leave such a vulnerable spot unguarded, and she was unable to shake off the impression that inmates from hundreds of feet away were aiming for it right now. She didn't want any of her body parts further than an inch from the rest, like they would somehow cross invisible lines, or maybe trigger an alarm to her whereabouts.
Arkham City's wall was taller than she ever imagined. Turrets poked the clouds above, and the wall itself was topped off with curling barbed wire. Bluish spotlights appeared like tiny pinpricks up above, serving as eyes to watch everyone within Quincy Sharp's borders. For the first time in weeks Cathy was actually seeing artificial, electrical light. It almost made her breathless to see it. Her own building was entirely blacked out, yet, unfairly in turn, each apartment complex in the distance had one or two lit windows, streetlamps were working, and the slime-green neon glow of the Ace Chemicals sign loomed from the sky.
Concentrating back to the task at hand, Cathy knew she had to start moving, it was only a matter of time before the looters noticed the removable slab of wood whilst ransacking her bedroom. Her breath shuddered in little puffs that floated and disappeared into the night. Her legs felt doughy and unsupportive. But she had to leave the alley. For her own sake. The comforting pressure from the beanie clinging to her forehead kept her on Earth, seemingly keeping all her thoughts inside her skull, but the rest of her body felt mushy with anxiety.
Go, her mind forced, spurring her numbing legs into motion.
With sprightly movement, she pressed her back tight to the brick wall of her apartment building, deep into the shadows. Her shoes made squelchy noises on the pavement. In trying to keep her feet quiet, they sounded amplified, like stepping on glass. Her teeth clenched as she tried to soften her step, but that was only slowing her down. Cautiously, she peeked around the corner, risking a sliver of streetlamp light on top of her beanie. She was immensely grateful now that she remembered to bring it, for her light-colored hair would have acted as a lighthouse beacon otherwise.
The last of her platinum-blond dye had been petering out for a long time now. Cathy frequently dyed her hair lighter than her natural, mousy color, but, understandably, there were more important things on her mind when news broke that Old Gotham was converting into a super prison. She had also removed her nose stud piercings long ago. She wasn't quite sure why, but instinct told her that it wasn't safe nowadays to wear anything that garnered attention or caught someone's eye.
The road and sidewalk ahead glistened from melted snow. It could have easily been a quaint, early-winter picture of city life if one didn't know the horrors lurking just out of sight.
Cathy hadn't known an exact time since the blackout—her alarm clock was a plug-in, her cell-phone had turned into a useless, expensive paperweight, and she didn't own a watch. It was difficult to tell if it was currently late evening or early morning. But she needed to find shelter before the sun came up, or else she was going to be a sitting duck in broad daylight.
Cathy watched the street beyond and knew that it was the path she'd have to take, out into the open. There was no other choice. Her apartment building was already compromised, there was no going back, not even to another suite within it. Looters would just keep coming back.
The coast seemed clear. But the more Cathy peered at its emptiness, the more hiding places seemed to appear out of nowhere. What if someone was behind that fence? That decrepit bus bench? That dark spot in the corner of the building across?
Cathy retreated back into the safety of the alley's darkness and searched for a weighted object to test if the street was truly deserted. Finding a plastic, green milk-crate, she wound up and swung it into the lit street. The crate soared and landed in a bounce. It spun in air and landed again, hopping further and further like a skipping rock on a lake. When it tumbled and slowed over thirty feet away, Cathy stopped breathing to listen hard.
The same atmospheric hum of outside was the only sound. She waited it out, certain to give time for prisoners within even a two-mile radius to investigate and make themselves heard. For what she guessed must have been two minutes or so, she dared a small peek around the corner, poised to duck back in if she spotted movement in the street. She squinted her small, green eyes at every possible hiding place, but the street remained deserted.
Now was as good a time as ever. Pressing her back against the building to literally scrape alongside it, Cathy stepped away from the darkness and out into the open. Not wishing to linger, she continued swiftly to the nearest dark patch off to her right. Trash bags and stoops impeded her progress, but she much rather would have stepped on moldy, abandoned garbage than walk under a streetlamp.
The lumps in her drawstring bag jabbed her spine roughly, but she ignored the discomfort. The closer her body was to the wall, the safer she felt. Her eyes had never worked so hard in her life; they darted here and there, up and down, side to side, on constant surveillance, all around her.
Back in the alley she had been able to stare at her surroundings so intensely that they became mapped out in her mind. Simply moving a few feet in another direction changed the picture into a different perspective that she hadn't scouted yet. But she knew she couldn't continue the process all night, especially when she was uncertain how much longer the darkness would last. She needed a place fast; time to think, time to plan an escape out of Arkham City.
A/N: I gotta tell you guys, I was blown away by your response to the first chapter 0_0 I mean...wow! Three reviews, four favorites, and six alerts? I usually don't even get ONE of those whenever I post a first chapter. I...I don't know what to say, guys! I suppose this just means that I'm gonna have to give you all a story that'll blow you away *rolls up sleeves in preparation* I'll do my best not to disappoint you all! Chapters will now also be getting longer from now on.