-Chapter 2-
The city lights were a spectacle of amber glow reflecting off the buildings, she crouched on the ledge of a rooftop, her firm lips felt the chill of the wind and ravenous steel eyes searched in the clusters of darkness. Her lithe body, still as stone and gloved hands clenched against the cement. Ariana lifted her hooded gaze to the misty shape reflecting in the cloudy sky, a shape that she knew all too well. A shape that didn't define, but condemn her to a life of solitude and grief.
Each moment her eyes closed, images of her loved ones were clusters of thoughts. Dull ache seared through her body and vengeance blacken her heart. She felt her twisting soul rip to shreds and that made her less mortal under the grim semblance of the night.
Tonight, the little flickering flame welled deep within her was burning. She straighten on her heeled boots, stripping off her mask the moment she clicked the heels on the narrow path of the roof, allowing her arms to extend out to feel chills the updrafts to ease the tension running in her veins. Her temperate gaze captured the light and darkness around her, and coldness of her leather jacket seeped within her body.
Listening to the nighttime sounds of traffic, she jumped down on the terrace sensing disturbance of evil wavering in the air. The foul uncompromising demons of the dark, lurking in the alleyways, subway tunnels and the slums. She knew that the creatures were on edge tonight, good men wearing the uniforms of justice were working overtime to endure the safety of the families and innocence.
The difference between her line of work and the police, Ariana never got declaration of medals or picture printed on the morning paper. No, she wasn't a hero or a symbol of mortal good. She was a protector of shadow, drifter in the marked cities stained with innocent blood and a battered defender. There wasn't grantees that she would purge her cravings of tasting her prey's defeat, uncertainly divided her into two half's, morality and fear. No consistence of controlling limitations, of preventing herself of falling into the deep end, of embracing the sunlight.
Ariana ached to feel the warmth of human touch, the sweetness of a kiss and most importantly the love of masculine security.
What man would take her in his arms, hold her against his heart and share his world?
As her curvaceous figure obscured in the shadow, her lips parted to release steady exhales of breath by the sound of wailing sirens beneath her view, her blue eyes narrowed to the sidewalks caressed with muted orange. She cautiously observed her surroundings, her cheeks tensed and eyes gleamed a menacing glare to a familiar presence wafting in the air.
A muffled cry for help echoed in her ears.
Quickly, Ariana vaulted off the roof, striking her heels on a stairwell in perfect balance, settling her intense stare on three men dressed in hoods pinning a struggling young woman against the wall. One attacker swayed a knife close to the victim's trembling face, taunting her with hissing tones. The other two went through the woman's handbag, throwing out contents, and stuffing cash in their pockets. Ariana crouched herself lower in the umbra of the stairs, her back arch, hands clenched into fists and face darkened.
"So you boys like to make people feel afraid," Ariana spoke in a growling voice, making it projected in every corner of the alley. She crinkled her nose, breathing in the sweat glazing over their exposed skin. She heard the pulses of their hearts gallop wildly, and then a smile of amusement appeared on her red lips. Her eyes met the darkness and she jumped stealthy on the asphalt.
Three thugs would never exactly what happened. The man with a pistol disappeared in an encroaching shadow and a very brief grunt of pain. His friends instantly froze and watched with confusion his bulky frame slam against the wall and began searching in the shadows for their attacker, breathing heavy.
"Don't tell you boys are afraid of the darkness." she taunted behind him, with a hint of mirth in her tone. " You two reek of fear. I can smelt it pour out from your veins. And your heart beats I could practice my dance moves with."
She purposely clapped her hands, matching the rhythm of their elevating pulses. "Want to dance with me, boys?"
The man raiding the woman's purse dropped everything and pulled out his firearm. He aimed the muzzle at a moving shadow. He pulled the trigger and made the victim shudder at the clap of thunder. With a swipe of a heel in the air, his gun dropped into a slushy puddle and head jerked backwards as elbow rammed into his skull before his entire body was consumed with blackness. Now terrified, the last one standing fumbled for his weapon, but instead of defending himself, he began to run for it. But as soon, he made to the fence, a hand gripped him from behind, twisting him 360 degrees and tossed him against the wall with one single throw.
"Argh-" the man grunted in pain, rubbing his bruised forehead and blinked vividly against the cloudiness of his dimming vision. His dark eyes widened at the woman standing inches away from him, her daunting silhouette was covered with black leather long coat that ended at the knees and a lethal ambiance swaying as he squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them and met intense blue daggers cutting through his veins. "What the hell are you?"
"Someone you better stay away from," she answered before ramming her gloved knuckles into his thick jaw.
Wincing in pain and smacking the back of his throbbing skull against the wall, the thug closed his eyes and slammed his form to the ground. She searched in his pockets, removing out pieces of fine jewelery and stolen cash, and then she turned her head meeting the teary eyes of the woman shaking in her heels with mouth opened in shock.
Ariana moved forward, on a heartbeat she picked out the purse and threw it back to the woman. She caught it and looked at the auburn haired protector with awe glazing over her pale features.
"You better clear out of here," Ariana said firmly. "Darkness and young girls don't mix."
"Thank you," the girl quickly sputtered. "Thank you."
Ariana gave her a slight nod and stepped back, melting into the shadows, as if she was never there in the first place.
As late morning neared, the warmth of sunlight brushed over his chiseled features. Bruce slowly opened his sleep-fogged eyes to a empowering scent, brewed coffee next to the bed. He blinked against the wispy tendrils dangling over his shadowed eyes and turned his neck to the brightness of light beaming over his smooth chest. He cleared his raw throat, and allowed morning ambiance to become captured in the depth of hazel.
Grimacing, Bruce pushed himself on his elbows against the pillows, resting his scarred back against the headboard, intense stare pierced under his bangs as he shifted to the nightstand. Upon noticing a severing tray of the usual breakfast, morning coffee, and a whole-wheat bagel laced with cream-cheese a faint smirk brushed over his lips as he looked at the folded newspaper on a chair.
He arched his eyebrows to the black printed headline across the front page: Batman Hero or Menace.
"At least the press likes me," he muttered with a loop-sided smirk.
He roved a glance over at the pieces of his armor scattered on the polished floor, cape and cowl on the leather chair and gauntlets near the nightstand.
Bruce moaned lightly down his throat, rubbing his face as he pulled the covers off his half-naked body, allowing the sun's light tarnish over his densely compacted muscles. He took a minute, flexing his solid arms as he reached for the mug and inhaled the stream to awake his senses. He slid his legs off the bed, straightened his back and turned on his bare heels, meeting the gentle blue eyes of Alfred Pennyworth standing in the doorway with regal fashion.
"I trust you had an eventful evening, sir." Alfred said with a Cockney accent, moving forward to the bed. "Did you dance with your adoring public."
Bruce clenched his jaw, "When you mean adoring, Alfred, you mean very drool women that would love to put a leash on me."
"Don't worry, Master Wayne," Alfred grinned cheeky. "It takes time to meet the right one."
"That's the problem, Alfred," he drawled, and settled a glare on the cowl. "If I do meet somebody, I know she won't accept the dual life I have." He crossed his arms over his chest, drawing out a deep and frustrated sigh. "I need someone who shares the night almost as much as I do."
"Aye, that would a challenge, sir." the old Englishman replied. "I'll start digging."
Bruce's hazel eyes lit up at this, "Digging?" he slacked the edges of his mouth into a snug smile. "I appreciate it, Alfred but I think it's really necessary." He pursed his lips, at the thought of Ariana. "I met someone last night."
"Really?" Alfred cocked an eyebrow."Was she different from all the rest?"
Bruce nodded, "Different and very beautiful." he explained with a breathless sigh. "She had this way about her and a certain darkness that I can relate too, more than anyone else I met."
"Then perhaps you should take her out for coffee?" Alfred warmly quipped.
"Now you're pushing it," Bruce said, "I'm meeting her this afternoon."
Shuffling his feet to the huge portrait view windows, Bruce continued, "I taking it one day at a time, Alfred. Until I get to know her. The real her...because everyone wears a mask to hide their true selves."
Alfred walked closer, placing a firm down on his young master's shoulder. "Maybe it's time to take yours off, sir?"
He met his butler's hopeful gaze with his endearing hazel eyes. I wish it was that simple, Alfred, but I wear many masks.