Wisterian Widow

CHAPTER 1

15 YEARS LATER
OHIO... SOME MUSTY, CRUSTY MOTEL.

One big, dark cloud settled over the state Marlowe was currently in, but no rain had poured yet- which she took as a good sign. Life seemed to be quiet around her, hardly any cars driving by the motel, only one bird chirped, although it's song got lost in the howls of the wind. Her room consisted of some cream walls where the paint had began to peel with some framed pictures that were definitely there to try and hide the mess of the room overall. Her bed had springs poking out which had been stabbing her in the back for the past two nights, but it's not like she could sleep anyway, the bed sheets that seemed to be one worth the bed stunk of drugs, cigars and B.O. Her lights flickered every seven minutes and the water in her shower produced some black liquid every now and then. But compared to other rooms she'd slept in, this wasn't actually the worst.

Marlowe sat down on an old wooden chair which she'd placed beside the window to keep watch and pulled out her laptop which she'd spent time in the past to make sure it was untraceable. Her roughed up hands glided across the keys as she 'borrowed' the surveillance cameras with-in a mile, typing up an encryption so she'd know if a car drove down the road. Once done, she stretched out her bruised limbs and made her way over to her bag. Glancing around the room to make sure everything she needed was packed up, she got ready for her departure the next day. Marlowe had been there for nearly 3 days now, and she was pushing her limits.

For two years now Marlowe had been lucky enough to have made it free of her captors, sending down their little organisation. She was free of that now...sort of. A few of their loyal Widows and directors of the program had survived, and now made it their little mission on hunting her down, no doubt leading to some horrible torture and a painful death. But she'd happily take it. What Marlowe had done meant no more girls-no more children-were taken against their own will and made into living weapons.

She often did this, think about how much of her own free will she was sacrificing for others. Sometimes she hated it, hated the fact that she couldn't just let something go and run the other way. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush that she gained from it, or the fact of how she enjoys punching people in the face, but either way, it had almost led to her demise several times.

Heading out the door of room 15, Marlowe locked up and headed towards the liquor store across the road. Her clothes were dark: black jeans, black top and black hoodie paired with- you guessed it, black shoes. She probably stood out more and seemed more suspicious, but it also made her look older she assumed, as it meant she got the booze she wanted.

Nodding her head in greeting, the girl looked around the isles, searching for something strong. It wouldn't do much, but it'd help her at least. After a few minutes of searching, she eventually found an ok priced tequila and decided on that. Stepping up to the till, Marlowe kept her head away from the camera above the cashier and paid, grabbing a bar of chocolate as well. Paying with her kinda-stolen-money, the brunette crossed the road, alcohol in one hand and chocolate in the other, on her way to drink and eat as much as she could.

As she walked through the gates around the car park, Marlowe saw a minivan that wasn't there when she left moments ago. So with a few colourful choice of words silently under her breathe, she pulled her hood further down her face and strutted past the car just as the doors began to open. Discreetly, she quickened her pace until she had a visual from one the the room windows reflections. What she saw was not what she expected. A tall African-American woman with bright magenta hair was wearing a short purple dress that clung to her skin and an animal print jacket that was draped around her arms. The next person she saw was a teenaged boy, she assumed, he seemed quite normal if it wasn't for the bright green hair he had. He wore a red and white jacket and had a wide smile on his face. In her opinion he seemed like a small innocent child which she found adorable in a way. Finally, another teenager stepped out. She wore all black clothes, similar to herself, and had purple streaked hair. Her skin was unnaturally pale and contrasted on her choice of clothing. Watching through the window, only the teen girl seemed to look back, the other two people seemed to be chatting off as they walked towards the entrance of the motel. Dark eyes seemed to stare into her soul to the point where she felt like her breathing has been cut off, forcing her to look away and go straight to her room.

Behind her, her ears caught the sound of keys jingling in the lock as the group from the mini-van met with the person they most likely came with. They all grew silent as Marlowe opened up her door, entering quietly and letting the door shut even quieter. She threw the curtains closed and took deep breathes, trying to keep calm of her racing nerves as 'worst case scenarios' plagued her mind. Her hand drew through the hair, getting tangle halfway through.

A few minutes later her breathing calmed down enough she could faintly hear them-without the sound of her beating heart overlapping-through the thin walls. Despite the uncomfortable feeling of the grimy walls touching her cheek, she pushed harder in a desperate attempt to hear. Her ears were strained as she squashed her face up closer to the wall, trying to figure out who they were or what they wanted, but every time she thought she got a word, she heard another that had not sense to the conversation. One thing she did gather was that they were somewhat a team? Not knowing what for, but it seemed the man they met with seemed reluctant to agree.

Deciding to wait it out, she went to her laptop and checked the cameras. They seemed normal, apart from the odd clothing and saturated hair, but who's coming to a motel like this? Looping through the feed once more she decided to dig into the guy who seemed to be in charge. He had brunette hair, a casual shirt and jeans. Nothing about him stood out, but she knew more than the video was letting her in on.

When she took down the Red Room, gaining some of her freedom, she searched into her old family, looking for answers on what had happened. At first she was furious, seeing her big brother live something of a normal life, despite the nightly activities she had learnt about. He was living with a billionaire, able to have nearly whatever he wanted. Making friends and succeeding in classes, going to a fancy rich people school. He seemed happy and had moved on, not a word being said on her since she was abducted all that time ago.

As more days went on however, she began to realise that her feelings of anger towards Dick weren't exactly that. Marlowe put the pieces together and as much as she hated to admit it, she realised she was jealous. Jealous of her older brother who got a king sized bed whilst she was forced to a small cot. Jealous of how he got meals that were no doubt home cooked by his butler, whilst she was given colourful slushy mush. She hated what she was feeling, so she stopped looking into him. Stopped searching up on him, stopped her nightly visits she made whenever she was in Gotham. She left her last living relative, believing she was dead as everyone else thought.

The sound of the door a few rooms over slamming shut was what drew her from spiralling. Pulling open the blind she watched as they all walked down the road, pulling their coats to try and protect themselves against the winds. With a sigh, Marlowe went and collected the things in the so called 'bathroom' and prepared her leave. It's not like leaving at night rather than day time would do anything to her no existent schedule. She packed her tequila in her duffle, placing clothes around to make sure it wouldn't smash and opened up her chocolate bar, enjoying the taste as she waited for night to take over.

§.1485 WORDS.§