I'm gonna be honest.
I've never had Starbucks before. Ever. It's because I'm not a slave to societal standards. And making my own coffee was so fucking cheap, why would I bother with this corporate nonsense? I just hate it. I hate society, and I hate Starbucks. That's why I've never had it.
Yet, here I was, a scribbled order written on my hand because I didn't have paper at the time and a twenty dollar bill. "I want some coffee. If you get it for me, you can have some for free," is what Bruce said to me. He said he wanted Starbucks like the basic bitch he is and here I am, standing in line, surrounded by these absolute fucking nerds. I mean, ugh. There was a girl wearing non-prescription nerd glasses and uggs. The way she said 'pumpkin spice latte' made me wish I had my hidden blade on me. It seemed like this chick belonged in Portland or Seattle, not Gotham. There was a guy typing on his super expensive Apple laptop, and when he caught me looking at him, he looked me dead in the eyes and said "I'm a writer. Your staring interrupts my brilliance, creativity, and flow of thought. Fuck off." I've never been told 'fuck off' so calmly.
It was finally my turn to order and I was about to have an anxiety attack. Why were these people so judgmental? It seems like they think this overpriced creamer with a hint of coffee made them better people. They're mostly college kids too. They're broke as fuck and acting as if they're better than me because they splurged and bought a 'pumpkin spice latte'. I wish I could just fuck off right through the door but oh no, my boss needs his own 'pumpkin spice latte'.
"Hi, welcome to Starbucks. What can I get for you?" This girl with super curly dark brown hair, and almost black eyes gave me a good vibe though. She seemed nice. Why are barista's always so pretty and nice? I haven't been in too many coffee shops but every single one of them has been awesome. Her name tag read Nicole, but I saw it as "nice-ole."
"Uh, can I get two pumpkin spice lattes?" I asked.
"Sure, what size?" Nicole asked.
Shit, I forgot. I glanced down at my hand. "Grand," I said.
"Grande?" she asked once again, correcting me.
"Yup," I responded.
When I paid, I gave her the entire twenty dollar bill and let her keep the change. Bruce didn't need the money and I'm sure that girl did. Plus, he really mind fucks me so this is to spite him. When I got my drinks back, I tasted mine and I hated myself because I actually liked it. Fuck Starbucks for reeling me into their corporate bullshit. I liked the drink but I will never order from there again. As I was walking back to Wayne Enterprises, I stopped to think about my reality right now. I'm fucking Raven Black and I just fetched coffee for Bruce Wayne, my target. Jacob would be disappointed in me. He probably already was. My mentor didn't teach me anything, apparently. I just hate feeling like this. Criminals in Gotham are scared to death of me and here I am, acting like a ball sack. One kick and I'm on the floor.
I think I need to get drunk tonight at the bar. I haven't been there in a while and I'm losing myself. I'm losing my pride and dignity by doing basic shit like this. Spending time with some murderous psychopaths might do the trick for me. I kinda missed drinking with the Joker a little. He was fun when he was drunk.
I finally got back to Wayne Enterprises, and went up to Bruce's office. I gave him his coffee and sat down, sipping mine, hating every sip but I loved it so much.
"Thank you," Bruce said. "There wasn't any change?" he asked.
I glanced up at him. "Nope. Came out to an even twenty bucks."
"Christ, that's expensive," he commented.
"Right!" I exclaimed. "I don't know why you fetched me to get a 'pumpkin spice latte' when you have a coffee maker upstairs."
"Don't judge me," Bruce said and we both laughed. "I need my pumpkin spice every once in a while, too."
"Whatever." I rolled my eyes.
"What are your plans for tonight, Raven?" Bruce asked after a couple seconds of silence.
"I think I'm going to go Tiff's Bar," I said, mindlessly.
His eyes widened at me. "You're going to the most dangerous bar in the entire city?"
I wish I could just shut my fucking mouth for once. Honestly, how has he not figured out I'm a criminal yet? How much more obvious do I have to be? I could probably stab him in the back right now and he'd still ask me questions about it. "Yup," I said.
"There's criminals in there!" he exclaimed.
"Not all the time," I commented.
He gave me a 'are you fucking serious?' kind of look. I laughed a little. "Dude, why don't you go somewhere a little safer?"
Did he just call me 'dude'? He can't be calling me things like that, we're not friends. I mean, sure, we laughed at each others jokes sometimes but that doesn't automatically make someone your friend. I wish he didn't think I was his friend because I'm literally going to kill him soon. I just know he had a deep secret, I just know it. I really would just like to find out what it is without actually having to kill someone first. I want to find out his secret by being a detective, and then kill him. "Because I don't really party anywhere else," I said.
He rolled his eyes. "You are so mysterious. It's ridiculously hard to figure you out, you know that?" His silver eyes pierced into my fucking soul.
I'm mysterious?! I'm hard to figure out?! Give me a fucking break. Why does he care though? He's Bruce Wayne, the richest person in Gotham, the prince of Gotham, and yet he's sitting here trying to figure me out. I just stared at him, eyes wide. I couldn't believe it. And he was basically admitting to me that he was studying me, trying to figure me out. What if he was the one hunting me? After a while of silence, he turned his computer screen off and coughed.
"Why don't you go out to dinner with me tonight instead of Satan's lair?" he asked.
My heart almost leapt out of my chest. I don't know why it sped up, but it did. I felt my hands get a little sweaty and a heat flash go through my body. What was that? Stop it, Raven. Stop flipping out. Just stop it. He asked me to dinner. Fucking. Dinner. I can't go to dinner with Bruce Wayne. "What?" was the only thing I could say, or even think right now. He needs to stop fucking with my mind. He needs to stop.
"I said, do you want to go to dinner ... with me?" Why did his voice sound insecure? I don't think someone like him should be nervous around me. Wait. Maybe he should. After all, I am an Assassin. I do kill people. He should be nervous - but not like this. Not nervous for my approval. I shouldn't be nervous that he asked me out to dinner. Isn't that... a date? "It's not a date, just friendly dinner," he said, correcting himself. That made me feel a little better but I knew I couldn't fall into his trap.
"No," I murmured.
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because," I responded. I didn't have a good enough answer for him.
"Because you're afraid to get close to someone?" he asked.
I narrowed my eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?" I growled.
"Well, you seem terrified of me and it doesn't seem like you have many friends. You are the most mysterious girl I have ever met. I'm trying to be your friend, to be close to you, and you're pushing me out by constantly lying to me and declining to go to dinner with me. I am not going to hurt you, Raven. Unless you hurt me," he said. My heart pounded again and I started feeling guilty for some reason. It's weird how a couple of weeks ago I would've never felt this emotion. Guilt. Or anxiety. I've never had a heat flash until now. "Why are you so afraid to get closed to someone? Is it because you're afraid of the way it makes you feel? Weak, right?" he asked. For some reason, I found myself nodding. How can he do this to me? It does make me feel weak.
"You think you're always supposed to be strong because that's how you've survived so far. You think that having nobody close to you is what makes you strong because you have nobody to worry about, nobody to care if they judge you, and nobody who knows who you really are. You want to be seen as tough and mean; but letting someone else in would ruin that, wouldn't it? Because for once, there would be someone who truly knows you. They would know you're actually broken and weak and that would ruin your reputation," Bruce said, not once breaking eye contact with me. My heart sunk and I found it hard to even talk. There was a lump in my throat, and I realized he was right. Why? Did he feel the same way I did? Does he see himself in me? It never occurred to me that Bruce and I could be the same. I've been too focused on trying to criminalize him, and yet I keep forgetting that he could be broken inside. It explains the way he acts so confident. Because if he didn't, people would know. They would know he's covering up how dead he is inside.
"How do you know that?" I asked, my voice low, and somehow still cracked. Ew. My voice cracked.
"That's the way I feel. And to be honest with you, I'm sick and tired of having no one. I'm sick and tired of wallowing in my own misery. Yeah, my parents died. Rachel died. But for the first time in months, you've made me truly laugh and feel what I think is a slight glimmer of happiness. You are ..." he stopped for a moment, "I hate to admit it, but you're saving me."
Oh God. Why did I feel so terrible? For the first time, I don't know if I can actually go through killing him or not. Why did my heart beat hard for him? Why did he make me feel nervous? I've never felt this way in my life. And yet, here we are. I'm feeling it. It killed me inside to hear him say that. This whole time I've only been trying to study him and find out what his secret is. The plan is to kill him. He said I was saving him. I don't usually do that. I kill people, I don't save them. I didn't know what to do. "You make me feel human," I confessed. My voice was barely above a whisper. It was true. He made me experience these weird emotions that I never did before, and I finally understood what he meant when he said he sometimes forgets I'm human. I forget that I am too. I am a human, and it's okay to act like one. Maybe I don't have to be Raven Black, Master Assassin, all of the time.
He smiled. "Do you want to go out to dinner with me tonight, Raven?" he asked again.
"Of course," I said, and I found myself smiling.
"I'll pick you up at 8, and we'll go to the Marion," he said, and I knew my work day was over. I left the building and went and sat in my Lamborghini, just staring at the wheel. My heart was still beating and I felt exhilarated, like I just had the best shower of my life. I noticed this was a good feeling. It felt like I had butterflies in my stomach and I was nervous to go to dinner with him, but I liked it. I liked it because even though I was anxious and felt guilty, I was excited. So, so excited. It's been a long time since I've felt excited.
It's been a long time since I've felt human.
I started my car and went back home. I decided not to tell Tiffany about this dinner thing because I know she wouldn't approve. She's my best friend, but we've been distant recently. I know I wouldn't like what she would say to me so I just decided against it and basically screamed at Galaxy.
"I'm going to fucking dinner! Woo!" I exclaimed at my cat. She was sitting on the counter but I didn't give a fuck. I was too happy to care about my naughty ass cat. I walked down the hallway to my room, but then I walked back to the kitchen and picked Galaxy up and set her on the floor. "You know you're not supposed to be on the counter, you fuck," I said with a huge grin on my face. I went back to my room and looked in my closet. The Marion was a five star restaurant and pretty formal. Didn't you have to make a reservation there? Oh wait, it's Bruce Wayne. I bet he can eat at any restaurant he fucking wants, whenever he wants. I wondered what color I should wear. Red, or black? What if I wore white? No, no, I can't wear white. Silly me.
I put Cherry Pepsi by Saint Pepsi on while I got ready. I couldn't possibly choose what I wanted to wear right now, so I just went and did my makeup and hair. I put black winged eyeliner on and smokey eye shadow, and maroon colored lipstick on. I curled my hair and I couldn't help but stare at myself in the mirror. I kinda looked hot. Wink wink. I smiled at myself in the mirror, and I had the odd urge to take a selfie. "Don't go overboard, Raven," I whispered to myself with a chuckle. I chose on a form fitting black dress with some lace on it, and then some black high heels. I felt dope as fuck. It was practically eight by the time I was ready, and after staring at myself in the mirror for a bit longer, I heard a car horn. I looked out my window and saw a black Lamborghini shimmering in the moonlight.
I almost broke my ankle by running down the stairs and twisting it, but I didn't care. It was fine, after all. I had to remind myself to be professional and calm down. Bruce got out of the car and opened the door for me. He was wearing a black tuxedo with a black tie, but he looked sharp and really handsome. His hair was slightly slicked back and his silver eyes almost glowed in the moonlight. When he got in the car and started driving, that's when the thought occurred to me:
"How did you know where I lived?" I asked.
"You put your address on your job application," he said, "but nice to see you too."
"Sorry," I said, "hi, Mr. Wayne."
He chuckled. "It's Bruce right now, Ms. Black."
"Oh, ew. Don't do that," I said, making a disgusted face.
He chuckled again. "See? It does sound kinda gross. So, call me Bruce. By the way, you look beautiful."
My cheeks got hot. Holy shit, I think I just blushed. "Oh, it's no biggie. I usually wear a shit ton of makeup and a hot dress." We both laughed and he rolled his eyes in a playful manner.
"It's a quiet night for Gotham," I commented. I didn't see anyone that I knew out as we drove down the street, passing by a bunch of fancy restaurant and stores. The lights were beautiful tonight. They were every night but I was really feeling them tonight. I just wanted to dance for some reason.
"Hopefully it stays that way for the rest of the night," he said. He pulled into a parking lot filled with expensive cars and I knew we were at the Marion. I didn't let him open the door for me this time. I wasn't a helpless baby, I could open doors myself. He just sighed, but we both walked into the restaurant together. I think he wanted to be a gentleman and open my door for me. It really wasn't a big deal. We stopped at the hostess. She had dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. She was looking down at something at the podium, so she didn't even notice when we walked up to her.
"Table for two," Bruce said.
"Do you have a reservation?" she asked, but then she looked up and her eyes widened. "Oh, excuse me, Mr. Wayne. Right this way," she said, and she led us into the dining room. I glanced at Bruce in disbelief, and all he did was playfully smirk at me. What an asshole. He could literally do whatever he wanted. It's insane. Nothing was really stopping me from doing whatever I want, either, though. We sat down at a table and laid down two menu's in front of us. I almost shrieked like a pterodactyl when I saw the prices. Some of these were over two hundred dollars. I know I'm rich and all, but I was poor at one point in my life. This shit is crazy. "Can I get you two any drinks to start off with?"
"I'd like a glass of your finest champagne," Bruce said. "Raven, do you want that too?" Thank God he helped me with that decision. I might have melted if I would've been asked that. I don't know what I'm doing. I usually don't go out to places like this, but I was with Bruce Wayne and I felt like I had to prove to this hostess, whose name tag read Heather, that I deserved to be sitting at a table with him. I feel like I don't; and that's where the problem is.
"Yes, I'd like that as well," I said, trying to sound fancy. Bruce laughed and Heather just stood there looking nervous.
"Alright, I'll be right back with that," she said. I felt relieved when she walked away because it almost felt like she was intruding on our personal space. I know it sounds ridiculous but it's fucking true, alright?
"Bruce, these prices are fucking insane," I said.
"I know, but I heard Gordon Ramsay is cooking tonight so it's worth it," he said.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" I said a little too loudly and then I looked around, noticing that rich people were staring at me, and then I lowered my voice to a whisper, "Gordon Ramsay is here? I love him."
Bruce smiled. He seemed really happy, and that made me feel good. I kinda like making people feel like that. "Yeah, I know right," he said. "I think I know what I'm getting."
"What? Because I might order whatever you're ordering," I said.
"Filet Mignon."
"Yeah, I'll get that too, then." We set our menu's to the side and Heather came back with our drinks and a bottle of champagne. We ordered our food and I knew we'd be waiting forever for that fucking piece of meat, so I just downed my first glass of champagne to make this dinner more interesting. Bruce laughed at it, and I think he was laughing at my table etiquette.
"You're too funny," he said, but then he basically chugged the champagne too. "Do we really need these glasses, or do you just want to share this bottle?"
"Bottle," I said. He took a drink out of the bottle, and I did the same. I looked around and noticed all these rich fucks were staring at us. One guy even twirled his fucking moustache. I couldn't believe it. All he needed was a monocle and he'd be the Monopoly Man.
"So, we should probably start having a conversation then, right?" Bruce asked.
"Yeah, we probably should." I didn't know what to talk about.
"You go first," he said.
"Unfair but whatever. What's your favorite color?" I asked.
He thought for a while. "Black. Sounds shady but it's true." I almost spit out my drink of champagne. He laughed too. He laughs at his own jokes. I don't know why but my mind was all like 'cute!'. I don't even know who I am anymore. My brain thinks it's cute that he laughs at his own jokes.
"Mine too. Your turn," I said.
"Why would you ever go to Tiff's Bar?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes. I'll give him a little version of the truth. He doesn't need to know everything but he can know a little. "Tiffany is my childhood friend. We grew up together so I hang out at her business."
"That makes sense. But there's just so many criminals there. How do you feel safe?" He took a drink of champagne.
I laughed. "I feel safest in that bar. Nobody is going to fuck with me and I know if someone shot the place up, I would be protected because everyone in there would probably kill whoever is shooting the place up."
"Wow. I never thought of it that way," he said. "So, have you talked to the Joker and Scarecrow before?"
"Yeah. I prefer not to, but it happens," I said.
"Have you talked to the Assassin before? No one really knows her name or has seen her," he said. "But I heard she hangs out there."
Oh shit. That's me. They call me the Assassin in the normal parts of Gotham? "No, I haven't. Why, what have you heard about her?" I asked, taking a drink of the champagne. I tried not to act weird. I didn't want him knowing who I really was.
"I heard she's ruthless and evil," he said and it felt like a knife to my heart.
"How do you know if she actually is?" I stuttered a little bit but I held my composure fairly well. That's what he thought of me? Ruthless and evil? He doesn't know I'm her, so I'm sure he doesn't think that of me, but it still was me he was talking about.
"She kills people left and right and doesn't feel guilty at all about it. They call her an Assassin but she doesn't act like one. She acts like a serial killer. I know it sounds weird, but they are completely different. The Assassin's are actually a respectable cause. I've already heard rumors that she is the reason that Adam Bolte's warehouse blew up and killed all of those people. How can she live with herself?" His eyes narrowed, and I tried so fucking hard not to react.
"How do you know she did that?" I asked.
"It's obvious. Adam Bolte is dead and there is not a trace of who killed him. Some of the bodies were poisoned, and they always are in her murders. She has skill, there is no doubt about it. And amazing strategy. It's too bad she doesn't put her amazing skills to good use. She wastes them on blowing buildings up and killing anyone she can for a little bit of money." I wanted to punch him, make him stop, walk out, but I wanted to hear his opinion on this so called Assassin. I hate to admit it but it hurt my feelings.
Heather walked up with our food and set it down. She told us to enjoy it, but I'm sure I wouldn't now. She walked away and left us in peace.
"Today, you told me you felt like nobody know who you truly are. You shouldn't judge this Assassin unless you know her," I commented.
He looked me dead in the eyes. "My opinion changes of her day to day."
I didn't want to even know what that meant, so I just ate my steak, which tasted really good by the way. I have never felt less hungry in my life though. Right now, I felt like an asshole. Was I actually ruthless and evil? Adam Bolte killed innocent people all the time, and Bruce was mad at me for killing him. Not me exactly, but I was the one who did it.
"Do you believe that someone as ruthless and evil as the Assassin can be kind and compassionate?" I asked, basically just playing with my food at this point.
Bruce's gaze softened. "Yes; she just needs to find it within herself. I think she's lost touch of who she is. She was once a great Assassin, and then it's like ... it's like something broke. She used to kill truly evil people, and she didn't expect money from it. Now, she only kills for money and doesn't care who she kills. I wish I could truly talk to her, know her story, know where she went wrong."
"You know a lot about her," I whispered.
"She's famous," he said, and there was a couple seconds of silence. I looked over one of the flat-screen TV's on the wall and saw a Breaking News report. Somebody yelled to turn the TV up, and I could hear the TV now.
"... Over a hundred innocent people hostage ... Being held at gunpoint by Steven Anderson and his gang ... at the docks ... wants ransom money ..." That was all I could hear the news reporter saying. Some people in the restaurant gasped, and something flicked in my head. It was like a light switch. I felt like I had to be an Assassin. A real one. I couldn't be my persona Raven Black.
I stood up and looked at Bruce, who also seemed getting ready to leave.
"I have to go," we both said at the same time.