Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or anything Batman related, I believe DC comics does.
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My plan goes accordingly.
I land on the putrid garbage. It sprays its muck all over my body due to the force of the impact.
Lucky I am still alive.
For now.
I need to make it to my car in order to escape. I hear the voices of agitated men yelling from inside the apartment complex, gunshots are being fire off within. Wrapping my hands around the outer edges of the dumpster, I am able to get enough leverage with my shaky feet to climb out.
They are coming.
My feet pound across the slimy gravel that is Gotham's Finest Apartments side alley. I run as fast as I can around the dilapidated edifice. My heart races, for each step I knew I could be closer to my salvation and with each step I could be closer to him.
The Joker.
No, I will not fall victim to that bastard.
I reach the parking lot.
My car is in sight, but I can now here the howls of rage as the men search for me.
I reach my automobile.
They are outside the building now.
Shit.
I unlock the car and leap inside.
I start the engine.
The car sputters in defiance and stalls.
"Damn it!" I yell pounding my palms against the steering wheel, and begin to cry in frustration and fear, "Come on!"
The car makes loud popping noises and refuses to starts.
There is no escape.
A sinking feeling dives like the Joker's blade is going to go through my stomach and I cannot bring myself to think about what he is going to do to me when he finds me.
I see them through my window.
His little helpers are wearing clown masks, giving them an emotionless appearance. They frantically turn their masked heads in the direction of my car. The Joker stands in the middle of his horde of four men, eyeing me with a vengeful look etched on his face. He points a purple gloved hand that clutches his awful blade at my car and shouts to his pack of human bloodhounds.
This is the end.
Say your prayers.
They know where I am.
They heard the engine try to start pathetically.
My heart is beating so loud, I would not be shocked if they heard that either.
Ilia is dead and soon, I will be joining her. I do not want to die. I feel as if I am going to vomit.
Just when all hope is lost, through my dirty windshield, I see my key to escape. Through the dim lighting I see Ilia's bike. It glimmers innocently, untouched.
The good thing is, is that I know how to ride a motorcycle pretty well, the down side is that I have obviously have not used Ilia's before.
Fate will be sealed in ten.
I burst out the car and pump my legs on the unforgiving ground as I rush to the bike.
Nine.
As I assumed, the keys are still in the ignition. As much as Ilia had loved her new bike, she had left the keys in the ignition, in the heart of Gotham, at night. Ilia, even in death, never ceases to amuse me.
Eight.
The shouts of the men are growing louder and louder. The Joker is at the back of his pack, barking orders into the night.
Seven.
I straddle the bike, and rev the powerful engine.
Six.
It sings underneath me.
Five.
"Where are you going, beautiful?" the Joker's voice carries throughout the vacant lot, "We've only just gotten started," he throws his plum sleeved arms upward, faking enthusiasm through gritted teeth.
Four.
A gunshot rings out across the lot, and the bullet slices through my fleshy side between my hip bone and ribs. It rips through easily due to my thinness. My head turns rapidly to catch a glimpse of who it was that shot me. It was the Joker, who is now holding a handgun in his other powerful hand. He has a sardonic smile that creeps eerily across his sweaty, scarred face.
Three.
Screams of pain tear loose from my lips as I feel blood spurt from the wound. I lean into the bike pathetically for support.
Two.
I can't give in, not now, not here.
One.
The tires on the bike burn as I tear out of the parking lot into the night. Pain is pulsating through my side.
"Come on, come on, come on, let's move," I hear the Joker say to his goons. Through the review mirror, I can see the Joker and his masked men scrambling into a van, a white van.
They are coming after me.
Your fate is… Unknown.
I plow through the empty streets to try and reach a populated one. The white van is on my tail, however I gain some distance because the bike accelerates faster than their van. I make a few right turns and a left turn onto Amdis Avenue. This street is almost always busy, twenty-four-seven.
Cars blare their horns at me as I swerve jackrabbit style in and out of the congested street. And that is when the bullets begin to rip throughout the night air.
In the review mirror, I can see the Joker leaning out of the passenger seat window with a new gun, pooping off rounds at me as I zigzag in and out of the automobiles on Amdis Avenue. I cringe as I hear his bullets hit other cars, not knowing if the person inside is alive or not. The look on his painted face is that of anguish as he struggles to get a direct hit, his greasy hair flails in the wind.
My side aches in reminder of what he is capable of with a gun and the back of my head still throbs from his powerful grip he had on me earlier.
I can feel my own hot sticky blood combining my very flesh to my shirt.
My breathing is progressively becoming heavy and I cannot tell if it is due to my fear or the blood seeping away from my body.
The white van grows smaller and smaller in the review mirror. I see an upcoming left hand turn off of Amdis Avenue leading to Eller Avenue.
I decide to take it in my effort to shake off the Joker.
The engine hums gleefully as I speed down the street, which thankfully has a lot less cars than Amdis Avenue. Maybe I can gain some distance. The white van appears in the review mirror again, speeding after me. The Joker's head is propped out of the window glaring at his target.
Me.
My heart leaps into my chest.
The thoughts that are tumbling in my head about all possible escape routes are stressing me out mentally as the wound in my side begins to take its toll on me physically.
Time is running out.
Shit.
The van is coming closer.
I accelerate and speed off into the direction that I know I might regret, but may very well save my life.
The Narrows.
Bullets are flying past me, missing my body. I inhale deeply as they miss me by sheer inches, and as I do this, the sharp pain due to my bullet wound surges throughout my body.
Am I dying?
Shit.
No, I don't care if my body says I am, I am not.
Through the entire ruckus that reverberates through the street lined by towering buildings, I can hear the Joker howling inhumanly out of rage into Gotham's night as his bullets zoom past me.
Missing me by sheer centimeters.
He sends a chill down my bloody spine.
I see the decaying bridges to the Narrows.
My salvation.
I cross the bridge with the Joker's van on my tail.
We cross the bridge and enter Gotham's bottomless pit.
I continue to floor it.
Then, through the review mirror, I see the white van pull a U-turn and drive back into Gotham's better half.
They have given up the hunt.
But I have not given up the flight.
Ilia's bike takes me into an alleyway deep into the heart of the Narrows, between two paper thin walls of two mold ridden condos to be exact.
The place smells of urine, feces, alcohol and trash.
Lovely.
Not.
I slip off the bike and lean up against one of the walls of the buildings clutching my bleeding side.
I am so tired.
I am so weak.
I am ready to give up.
My eyelids feel heavy and I feel queasy. The blood from my wound is seeping through my fingers as I desperately try to subdue the bleeding. My head is lolling pathetically around and around on my thin neck.
I take out my phone.
I have got to call Gordon.
I have to.
I need, I need help.
I am dying.
My vision is fading now and the lit screen of the phone dances in and out of my vision along with the rest of the world.
My world of visualization fades to black.
Am I still alive?
I gaze into what I think is darkness, and then I see Ilia. Her cheeks are not carved into that horrible bloody smile and she looks so surreal.
I reach out to touch her.
"Ilia, is this… Am I dead?"
She smiles sweetly, her undamaged cheeks rising.
"No, you're not."
"How are you here then?"
"Well, I am dead, but it is not your turn to die tonight. Go back."
"I don't want to," I begin to sob, reaching out for my best friend as she backs away into the dark abyss, "I am scared."
"Don't be scared," she says as she turns her back and walks away, fading into the darkness, "Remember, Eva. I'll meet you there someday."
"Wait no! Come Back!" I sob desperately. What does she mean?
Light renters my scope of vision.
I feel strong arms wrap themselves around me, picking me up.
A large masculine form is lifting me up off the grimy floor with such strength but grace.
An Angel?
Life is slipping away from me.
Please, save me.
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A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger! I hope everyone enjoyed chapter six, sorry it was a bit short. Thanks again to all of you who have reviewed! Also, sorry if you guys find gramatical errors, I try my best to read over it, but sometimes they slip right past me! Please review, I love to hear constructive criticism and your opinions on the story. Thanks again!