Ugh, life, my darlings, is a chaotic and soul sucking experience. However, I hope to work more on my Fan fiction this month to make you kiddies happy because I have been getting a lot of story alerts in my E-Mail. I graciously thank you nice people for caring about my work enough to alert yourselves about my slow, but well-meaning updates.

In all seriousness, thank you. I wouldn't be inspired to finish these works without your interest.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO *not too creepy, huh?*

RXR

How waywardly the soul is. The physical and the emotional combined into a filter of intense feeling that will utmost define the character of the person who is host to such an amalgamation. Intrepid emotion is one hard to come by in oneself, and harder to domestic if you are not born to it. But what happens if one born with wild tastes, cunning behaviors and fixated desires to the sinister and bloodthirsty did not understand the underlying callings within the soul? Within the body? What if the sexual nature of this person could be indefinite to them and was wholly hidden beneath the surface, until a final moment when the realization effervesces?

One sever could fabricate the bridge between childhood and adulthood…

Crack –there it was again outside. That was the third time it'd happened. It was thrice too many. Normally strange sounds were welcome in the strange night in this strange city –but this time it was a particularly special night, and strange sounds were not to be part of the atmosphere for this watch.

"Someone must be trying to scare us off," said the dark-skinned youth. He was clothed in colored street rags, reminiscent of the circus he once belonged to and the new word he acquired over the past two years. Shiny turquoise tattoos spun a web around his body like some sort of ritualistic code. His long hair was loose and splayed down his back.

"If they are, it's not going to work," said a female voice. A brunette a few feet from him, cloaked in the night. Her clothes darkened her brilliant fair skin, leaving nothing to be assumed as anything more than a stray in the night.

Josephine Quinzel had taken considerable measures around Gotham to acquire such a territory as the one surrounding the building on which she and her two cohorts stood. Even though it was only a block, she didn't feel the need to have to chase off trespasser this evening. Although, she did have a fair idea of the perpetrator and did not want to get into an ordeal with said person. Not when she had plans.

"Wait for my signal before you leave. The Italians are sure to leave tonight in their fine limos and Ferraris. The goods will be there nice and tight. I'll unlock the warehouse and take care of any business that needs taking care of."

The tattooed teenager known as Ink, smiled to him, thinking of the guard's faces as his mistress tore into them. His partner did not smile.

Firetongue, the blonde haired mute stood solemn as he regularly did. He did not often betray emotion unless his eyes gave way a fiery gaze whenever he exerted the power he was born with on unfortunate enemies. His fire breathing was a particular favorite with his mistress.

The docks were quiet. No ship sailed tonight, another detail Josephine minded to. She too leave of her private party and made her way down the wooden boxes stacked beside the hardware building she used as a spy point. The ground was wet from the slimy rain Gotham had been receiving over the last week. It was dreary, fog lifted the night sky and covered the moon. Another small mercy. This had to be clean and precise.

The armory was hidden inside the dock warehouse on Gotham's east side harbor. The Italian mobs loved this particular hide-out due to its convince to their whereabouts and because the fishmongers there were about as corrupt as they were and greedily cleaned out their money.

The Russians were not so lucky. Their supplies were hidden elsewhere, moved somewhere else since the Italians began to eat up Gotham with their poison and weaponry sales to petty gangs. The Moscow crew did not stand a chance. But it was not them that concerned her this evening. It was the Italians and their new guards that intrigued Josephine as she snuck to the front of the building which was not well-lit.

The doors were easy to jimmy into as she stuck a slim metal strand into the lock and flipped it open. The guards were always patrolling the box columns that lined the giant barn like grocery aisles. The boxes were for the most part unmarked, but due to some intelligence picked up from when she hung out in the mob front bars, "red tape" was the key.

She made her way through the piles always checking for a guard before proceeding through. Luckily there was not a lot of light cascading from the outdated light bulbs overhead. Why wasn't she storming in like her normal birthright proclaimed she would do? Tonight there couldn't a lot of commotion. They were packing heat. The guards had the big stuff and if any of that went off, Bats would be here with the Boy Wonder ready to snub the fun.

She waited for three minutes before seeing a guard cross under the lamplight holding his firearm close. His gaze was not fixed as the others and his persona was far younger as well. Most likely he was a cousin of someone looking to break into the mob business and ready to get his hands dirty with accepting a guard job. The weapon was cradles in his arms like a baby. Josephine seized the knife she carried always on her person. Its metal glinted before it was thrust into the boy's heart. Before he could cry out, she stuffed her mouth with her hand. He tried to bite down, but his strength failed him almost as soon as he struck. He struggled little. When she freed her armed hand, she clenched his throat and swiftly ended his life for no other merciful reason than to protect her presence. She heaved the body into a black patch beside a column and continued around until she climbed into one of the columns and spied a patch of boxes with red spot dotted lazily on them. She half smiled. The work was almost done.

Josephine slid down the top shelf and paused when she hit a shadow. A guard would go by every so often. A normal person would wonder about their men behind, but she was far too focused to worry about the two youths getting bored. Anyway, if they wanted to remain in her father's good graces without a bullet in their back, they would wait.

She waited for another brown suited goon to walk by, but she realized this one was much like the previous she encountered. Young, stupidly holding his gun like an inexperienced idiot…scared. Theses were not guards she was used to, and she realized that she had seen this one cross the aisle twice already. How many were there? Not many. Feeling a little disentangled about the guard number and the possibility of a gun war breaking out, she silently took out the guard and placed him in the crevice behind the "red tape" weapon boxes. Whatever guards were left, her boys could take out. There couldn't be more than two or three. Besides, there weren't ready to use a proper gun like that. Their faces would soon be melted and sliced off by her metahuman brood. She couldn't help but relish a small shiver, but they weren't worthy opponents, so she couldn't enjoy it as much as she wished to.

Josephine stuck her thumb and forefinger into her mouth and whistled.

If there were cries from the men about finding the source of the sharp noise in the night, she didn't hear it over the whoosh of fire blowing from Firetongue's lips into an unsuspecting guards face, or the cries of the eagle Ink conjured from his tattoos to dice the men from head to foot. Soon, the relatives wouldn't be able to tell them apart.

As the commotion went on, she ripped open the wooden boxes, dashing the wrapping away with her knife and sorting through the stuffing until the firearms were recovered. She held the bounty her arms and smiled. Behind her, the boys approached heaving with energy left over from the short battle.

"Carry these out with you," she told Ink, gesturing about five boxes worth. "Firetongue, carry a couple arms in the bags. Don't take too many, we don't want them to find their missing property until we've stored them at the hide-out."

She grasped a sack toed to her back and took the arms she recovered from the box and placed them inside careful that they weren't' loaded. As the final piece they were stealing was placed into a respective bag, a cold shadow fell over her. She suppresses an angry chill and she faced the perpetrator.

"It's not nice to sneak up on people," she seethed to the Dark Knight.

"It's not nice to steal."

"No, but when it's from the wrong people, I'd say it's excused."

"Either way, I'm taking you in."

"Nuh uh uh," she wagged her finger humorlessly, not until I've left with my supplies, boys."

Firetongue heaved a breath and a blast of fame shot towards the Dark Knight who dodged it and punched him in the chin, causing him to double over. While he was distracted, Ink conjured a bear like a mountain over the vigilante. It roared and slashed at him nearly catching his cloaked but then charged at him which the Dark night had no choice to dodge. Fire tongue had recovered by this point and was spitting flame again.

Their distraction bought Josephine the time to escape with at least four fire throwers strapped to her back. She wasn't leaving without something. She could have slapped herself. Something was up and she didn't catch it. After her planning, the boys might end up in a place outside of her reach and she couldn't continue with a raid on her own. Her father might not be very understanding this time but all she could do now was get away with the firearms.

She climbed out the warehouse and tore down the alleyway, escaping over a barbed fence and into the gutter land where the poverty stricken families lived. She had not gotten far before a figure pummeled into her. She fell forward; the weapons bounced off the ground and skittered away from her. She recovered and swung around to face the burgundy coated Robin. This one was the rebel of the bunch, dressing differently from head to toe in brown, black and red complete with a hood. She couldn't see his face from beneath it, but her eyes glared at her.

"Well, hello Clown Princess," he sneered. His voice was cold, matching his master's more so than the previous Robin, except for an accent she had tried to place in the past but could only settle for something Greek. "Thievery I see. Naughty, naughty."

"You wouldn't happen to know the time would you? I think its past your bedtime little birdie."

"No, but it's past your parole period." He swiped a punch at her which she dodged and lodged and foot into his thigh. She slid her knife out and tried to plunge it into his arm, but faltered when he unsheathed his own and the metals clashed. The blades scraped one another when they parted and Robin hurled himself at her, ignoring the fact that he once had the element of surprise and blew it. She cartwheel out of his way and kicked him in the chest, punching him back from her to make some space to swipe the weapons. With them on her back again, he grabbed her wrists and dodged her lower body attacks. He tried to pin her arms to hr back but she squirmed out of reach and sliced his wrist, causing blood to squirt out, loosening his grip. She took to running away from the battle, not feeling one bit guilty about her foe.

She heard his footsteps behind her and a voice reach out after him. "Robin, leave her, leave her now. I said no!"

The footsteps didn't stop. She sped up and sought out the area around her, a labyrinth of alleyways leading her deeper and deeper into the problematic areas of Gotham. She reached a dead end and climbed up the dumpsters, ripping her clothing in the process. The rank stench from the trash grease permeated the road. She removed a tiny ball from her pocket, not realizing it had been there all along and threw it into the dumpster. Almost as soon as it had gone in, the trash dump exploded sending a foul odor even deeper into the labyrinth along with the Brat Boy.

Josephine remained only for a second to watch the trash go up in flames, and then turned to gallop to her Haha-cienda. Mission accomplished.

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