One day until my birthday! I'm bloody excited so I'm in a bit of a writing mood! I hope I've got you hooked!
A few post-type warnings:
Firstly, there's a dark scene in this chapter and I wish I could leave it out because typing it made me cry, but it had to be done.
Secondly, I do a small description of my OC in the early portion of this chapter. Just an FYI if you wanted to skip it for whatever reason! I understand, but if you DO want to see my OC, then check out my profile for a link to my deviantart account!
This story is dedicated to my friend Grace, for she looks almost exactly like my OC!
What counts is not necessarily the size of the dog in the fight; it's the size of the fight in the dog. -Dwight Eisenhower
Orange and Black
Chapter Two
Quick paced heavy footfalls masked by a light drizzle alerted the ears of a scruffy elder gent, who looked up from his dirty burn barrel to see an ominous shadow slinking along the ancient brick wall, approaching him. Heart beat quickening and blood galloping through his veins, the Homeless American covered himself from the imminent assault. A stroke of bravery and perhaps what little pride remained in his body forced the gent to look to his attacker. He refused to leave this life as a coward.
Growing steadily closer, a silhouetted figure illuminated by red and blue lights was sprinting down the alley. Now that the hobo looked, he could help but notice how small the thing was compared to the massive shadow it had cast on the brick barriers.
It took only moments, but the figure flashed passed the gent with only a parting glance in his direction. He wasn't going to die, he realized and a wave of relief and maybe some boozy nausea washed over him. In that short yet somehow infinitesimal second when what he noticed now was a girl crossed his path and locked eyes with him, her appearance burned itself into his memory forever.
Average height and athletically built, the girl was gorgeous. Long wavy impossibly red hair flew behind her, exposing her pretty face and full lips. Shadows aiding her serrated domino mask morphed her eyes to emulate white spotlights on a pitch black night.
Her costume was hard to miss; flashy and brightly colored was a red midriff jersey T with orange stripes on the grey sleeves to match the orange of her combat boots. A simple grey-black skirt and a bright yellow cape, cut unevenly at the end, which covered a small black knapsack, completed her ensemble.
The dirt-friendly hobo was speechless after she passed, a small gust following her departure, returning her attention to the matter at hand. He watched her feet leave the ground and instead took three large stomps along the wall before leaping onto a large green garbage bin, take two more steps and her pale fingers latched onto the ladder of a time weary fire escape and yanked up a lithe frame. A few seconds of speeding up the creaking metal stairs, the girl disappeared into the midnight sky.
Not the craziest thing he'd seen in his years, but no doubt he would never forget the encounter.
\~~/
The fading sun illuminated the fading grey concrete of an old Jump City Food Lion parking lot in wonderful oranges, reds, and yellows likened to the fallen leaves which layered the ground and crunched under the footsteps of everyone in the lot. The air was alive with the sounds of last minute shoppers and nightlife blaring from across the street.
Yet, here was seventeen year-old Taylor not only picking up last minute "travel groceries," but babysitting of all things. If she had it her way, Taylor would be bathed in neon lights, surrounded by her closest friends on her last night before a week-long vacation.
As fate would have its way over her own, Taylor was clutching the hand of her three year old sister, Emily. Trudging her way across the busied lot, Taylor's subconscious suddenly recognized this moment, like some sort of sickening déjà vu.
She wanted so desperately to move, to get away, and go anywhere other than where she was walking that moment. Her body refused to respond, as if Taylor's now conscious panic were watching a first person horror movie it had seen many times before; warning the stupid girl that the monster was about to get her, that she should drop her grocery bags, kick off her unorthodox heels, and run as fast as she could.
But, like any horror film, the girl could never hear your shouts of warning and instead continued on, oblivious to the terror she which was about to unfold and damage her forever.
"Sissy! Sissy! Wait 'till we see Mommy! I'm gonna tell her-OH! Sissy!" Emily skipped along, ecstatic about the simplest things of life, loving the excitement of the busy shoppers and huge hummers and trucks around her.
"What?" Dream Taylor snapped with an aggravated glare. The subconscious Taylor's heart shattered into tiny pieces and fell away into an abyss when she looked upon the three year-old's face, now scrunched up in preparation for tears.
Dream Taylor scowled, "Geez, Em, you're so sensitive! All you do is freaking cry all the time! Could you shut up for a few minutes!"
That did it; Emily's eye sprouted tears and she began to sob, face fading to red. Subconscious Taylor screamed at her dream-self to shut up, begged her to pick up the child and carry her back to car with apologizes and shower the little girl with the love and affection she so deserved.
Instead, Dream Taylor sighed angrily, yanking the little one along with her and her bags. Subconscious Taylor was pleading with her dream-self now, please, please, please, get Emily out of here!
Dream Taylor shoved little Emily towards the car and popped the trunk, turning away from the younger one for only a second. Just one everlasting significant second that eternally changed the lives of six people, four of them innocent of the crime, yet would pay a horrible price for the inequity of two distracted individuals.
Subconscious Taylor screamed, having no words left, no sensible thoughts. Dream Taylor suddenly seemed to recognize the gravity of the situation as she looked back to Emily, to realize she was no longer present.
"Emily?" She called, turning around to see Emily's bright red shirt in the middle of the road, the little one's crying eyes turned around to meet her awful sister's. The slightest flicker of the eye alerted Taylor to the SUV.
The grocery bags crashed to the concrete, time seemed to pass by frame for frame yet I could never have been slow enough, and everything in the world went silent to Taylor's ears. Nothing registered in Taylor's brain other than what she was seeing; the pointless thing she'd caused. Even if she couldn't hear it, Taylor knew a scream of her sister's name escaped her mouth, one of those blood-curdling ones that seemed so overacted in films.
But this was all too real.
Scrrrreeeeeeeecccchhhh!
WHAM!
A flash of light danced behind her eyelids, shocking the red-head out of her horrible REM cycle and, accompanied by a yelp, a sense of falling warned her of the floor, which quickly became acquainted with her nose. Tangled in her bed sheets, Taylor's choked on a sob.
"Wake up, you lazy-," the preppy valley-girl's voice faltered, "Oh my God, Taylor, what's wrong?"
Everything, everything was wrong in a world where Taylor lived and Emily was… A force that wasn't her own pulled Taylor up from her face down position on the floor to lean against her roommate, now sitting next to the red-head on the floor.
"Taylor?"
"Noth-" She choked again, wanting to say there was nothing wrong no matter how pointless it would have been, but Taylor couldn't do it. She couldn't force herself to call Emily, little baby Emily, nothing. She simply couldn't do it.
"Was it a nightmare? Talk to me, Tay, please!" Taylor could only just barely make out her friend's frightened voice and respond with a heavy nod, burying her face in the girl's bare shoulder.
"Emily," Taylor finally managed to sob out, speaking directly to herself, "Always Emily."
Taylor's roommate cradled her friend, rocking back and forth like a mother should her child, holding the red-head close, for she knew all about Emily and the nighttime horrors her long time friend, Taylor, had faced ever since.
"I killed her, Maggie," Taylor whispered, crying into the crook of the girl's neck, "I killed her…she's dead, she's dead, she's dead and it's entirely my fault. I couldn't stop it!"
"Shh, shhh," Maggie squeezed her red-head friend, "It's okay, Tay, there was nothing you could do-"
"Shut up!" Taylor rasped, "You don't get it! I shouted at her! I called her annoying! I did it! She'd have been fine if I'd just…just…"
"I know, Tay…," Maggie held back her own salty tears, "I know."
\~~/
"I'm okay, Mags."
Taylor's voice abruptly interrupted the silence between them and caught Maggie off-guard.
"You sure?" the blond asked, unsure. The two roommate had never been "best-friend" close, dispite this fact though, Taylor had wept into Maggie's shoulder for close to fourty-five minutes.
"Ye-up," the red-head slurred, as if she'd changed her mind as of wither to say "Yup" or "Yeah" mid-speaking. Grumbling curses under her breath, Taylor Riot yanked her body away from Maggie's warm comforting embrace onto her feet and stumbled back, nearly tripping over her Captain America comforter. Kicking the infernal blanket out of the way, Taylor wobbled her way towards the bedroom door.
A slight sigh preceded the valley-girl pulling our young protagonist's arm over her tanned shoulder and helping her roommate to the bathroom, "Where would you be without me?"
"Love you, Mags," the exhausted red-head offered a sorry smile.
Maggie Brown, the tall blonde of the pair, returned a small smile, "Whatever."
After dropping Taylor off at the bathroom, making it a point to be concerned for her roomate's emotional well being, Maggie hesitantly continued down the dorm hallway towards the stairs, scavenging for food with more furosity than a lioness. In the dark corners of her thoughts, Taylor somehow knew that no matter how caring Maggie was or how willing she was to comfort Taylor, the blonde was relieved to be out of the uncomfortable situation. In fact, so was the red-head.
Taylor closed the door, breathed out, and then fell back against the wooden slab, wincing at the stab of pain from her left ribs.
"Ugh," she growled, her body jerking away from the door. She looked to the mirror, noticing her wet face and swollen eyes. Pulling the edge of her black long-sleeved shirt up to her breasts, Taylor saw the splotches of red peaking through thin Ace-bandages.
Fan-flipping-tastic.
Shaking fingers peeled the bandage away with great care, revealing a nasty scrape. The outermost epidermal layers protecting Taylor's left rib cage were missing, as if scooped away by a concrete spoon.
Or perhaps a slippery rooftop, came a bitter thought.
The grotesque area was dotted with dried blood and the area surrounding, which had taken the least of the fall, was rubbed raw to a bright pink color. The very center of the wound, which spread from just beneath the bra area of the left ribs to the bottom rows of the left ribcage and the least injured pieces stretched towards her hip, was caked in a layer of dried blood which had pooled and dried overnight.
It's decided then, no bikinis until this thing clears up. She mentally joked with herself, knowing that if she didn't laugh, she'd most likely cry. Along her arms, back, and shoulders were several disgusting bruises, some old, others fresh from crusades the night before. Some bruises made themselves known from her knees as well, but they were few and far between, easily explained away by yesterday's football game.
Sighing, Taylor's brown eyes lowered to the cabinet beneath the porcelain sink and pulled out the plastic bag containing all her toiletries and got to work. After a long well earned shower to calm her screaming muscles and injuries, both mental and physical, she primped herself to an acceptable state (covering any small scrapes and bruises on her face and neck). Returning her effects to the cabinet, Taylor left the messy bathroom, much to the thanks of a freshman doing the "potty dance" outside.
"All your's, Freshy," she teased half-heartedly, as the underclassmen rushed into the bathroom, slamming it shut.
Taylor almost smirked, her mood greatly altered for the better now that she'd had her shower. All she needed to better her day was nice hot bup of coffee and then the morning wouldn't seem quite as bleak as she had previously foretold. Locking herself inside her dorm door, Taylor pulled on clothing that would cover her unsightly battle-scars. Grey shorts and a white and orange half-sleeved jersey-T, with a simple bird skeleton sketched across the front in orange to match the sleeves. Red, almost brown, shoes covered her chafed feet and ankles from the world and matched her lipstick.
A brown bomber jacket, hanging open to show the shirt's design hid any bruises that may show through the shirt and she was finished with an hour or so to spare before her class. Taylor pondered that cup of coffee which didn't seem so impossible anymore.
She swung her heavy backpack, like her comforter it was Captian America themed, onto her shoulder. She stumbled as the full bag pulled on her spine, but regained her balance and walked gracefully back into the hallway.
Following Maggie's trail downstairs, Taylor walked slower than her usual bounce-of-a-stride would normally allow. They day was going to suck, she knew it. What with the nightmare and all her injuries piling up on her, she was going to be extremely sore and more than irritable.
Taylor habitually flipped her hair over her shoulder as she entered the mess hall. Walking over to the coffee machine, she noticed the glass to be empty. The red-headed girl scowled and mumbled complaints of laziness before beginning her quest of coffee making.
"Hay, kid."
An agitated eyebrow twitched upwards as she slowly turned around to gaze at a tall muscled boy standing next to her. His hair was very dark and he was noticeably Filipino, she knew immediately who it was.
"Jesse," she greeted, trying her best to be civil, "[I] haven't seen you in a while."
It was true; Taylor had been making herself scarce lately. She simply had so much to do with her school work, part-time job, and equally busy nights which always ended up with her crashed in her dorm that she'd left no time at all for her friends.
"I know," He raised his eyebrows, "Where've you been, white kid?"
Rolling her eyes, she returned to her coffee, which had finished, "Busy, as always."
Jesse was an easy sell with the whole "in college you have to choose two of three options: A social life, studying, and sleep" speech. Apparently he'd been having similar problems. If only he knew, Taylor mentally scoffed.
After fixing her coffee, they traveled over to their group's usual table; everyone was there, some grumpy (Taylor), others cheerful (Jesse), but most were exhausted, their ability to stay awake enforced by energy drinks.
Maggie eyed her roommate, "You okay, Tay?"
Taylor gazed at her blonde friend, sensing the bond between them growing strong like something fierce. She knew immediately that her roomy hadn't said a word about the morning's outburst to their other friends.
Taylor's eyebrow twitched up as if to shrug, "Slow morning."
Maggie nodded in acceptance, looking away to talk to someone from the debate team about something "very important."
"You guys hear about that robbery at the jewelry store on 5th?" inquired a blonde boy, Mark, after a few long minutes of idle conversation. Everyone in the group had a similar answer, "No." Taylor tried to seem uninterested even though her mind was reeling with guilty excitement.
"Yeah," he continued, matter-of-fact, "Apparently Batman whooped his butt then hog-tied him in the display window!"
Taylor's jaw clenched and her expression darkened while her thoughts shrieked unspeakable words. Jesse whistled, "Dag, ever since the first Robin left for Jump and the second Robin disappeared, Batman's been all over the place knocking out guys left and right!"
"Oh yeah," Maggie lifted her head from her self claimed important, "Robin's been gone for a few weeks hasn't he? I wonder what happened."
"Taylor would know. She's the only one who still reads the paper! Right, Tay-," Jesse's laughter stopped when he turned around, "Where'd she go?"
\~~/
Taylor Riot was furious to the point of bursting as she stormed out of the mess hall. The nerve of that stupid flying rodent! She'd been working her butt off for any sort of recognition, but no! The oh-so-flipping-awesome Batman and Boy Wonder were the only conceivable do-gooders in Gotham worth any amount of attention!
This is inexcusable bull-crap! Her mind shouted at her what she already understood. How much more clear did she need to be? She wasn't Batman and most certainly not Robin, how much simpler than a note signed by Claw could it get.
Taylor's angry path lead her to the center of Gotham U's campus courtyard and she plopped down in between the giant roots of an enormous oak tree, tossing her book bag out in front of her.
"Stupid bat," she grumbled. For the longest time, Taylor continued to complain about how unfair the whole thing was, realizing after a while that she was acting like a spoiled child in the middle of a temper tantrum. Her visage saddened at the thought of a young child and she tried to push herself onto a new topic-
Before her thoughts could continue and spoil anything else for you readers, Taylor's watch started to beep. Silencing the annoying noise with a push of a button, she knew her first class of the day would be starting in fifteen minutes. Normally that would mean she should start walking, but this Professor was infamous in Taylor's circle of friends for starting class early.
With an aggravated sigh, Taylor hoisted herself up from her surprisingly comfy position against the cold oak roots and paced across the grass, passed large groups of co-eds playing football, Frisbee, or just hanging out on the warm lawn. Sunlight peaked through green leaves and smiled on the slightly damp ground in a pattern one could only find under the large oaks around Gotham U.
The sense of normalcy brought a smile back to grace Taylor's beautiful features, remembering that Batman wasn't her problem until nightfall.
Pulling out her iPod and placing one headphone in her ear while allowing the other to hang around her neck, Taylor put her favorite play list on shuffle and allowed her smile to take hold of her body, a forgotten bounce returning to her step as she pushed all matters Emily and Claw-related to the back of her mind.
\~~/
Sad, angsty, and uneventful; I know. Sorry! I needed to build character and set the basic timeline, plus I've been listening to Linkin Park's My December, Leave Out All the Rest, and The Little Things Give You Away so I got all depressed. (BTW those songs may make you cry like a baby if you read the dream passage while listening, I know I did.)
I guarantee an actual fight scene in the next chapter for the action lovers, more angst for the sad-face lovers, and more of our favorite cannon villains for EVERYBODY! I'm very excited because I think I may introduce the second OC I was referring to in the first chapter's AN and present the a few of the bad guys!
Thanks for reading! R&R!