ANGELS WEEP || bruce wayne

the second

🦇

Stacey Maroni hadn't seen Gotham for ten years.

It had been a decade since she walked down Main Street, pepper spray clutched tight, gold-inlaid swiss army knife (a gift from her father) in hand, feet kicking stray trash to the side as she made her way to her apartment.

Gotham really had gone to shit.

The streets were in a state of decay, especially on the East side, where the buildings were mainly empty and the junkies took turns on lookout. Stacey breathed in as she rounded the corner, regretting it as the stench of sewage filled her nostrils.

Metropolis was nothing like this. Stacey's college experience consisted of microwave ramen and endless homework; her decision to pursue a doctorate was questionable at times. But the bright sky and laidback people- combined with the fact that Metropolis was a fairly clean and upstanding city- caused her to stay to finish out her degree.

But there was something about Gotham she couldn't quite place. Something that made her crawl back here after ten years of being away from the alway overcast sky and the people randomly passed out in front of her building-

"Hey! Do you mind?"

A guy was laying down right in front of her door, one hand holding his side while the other texted someone on his phone.

"Oh, thank god!" The man tried to sit up but winced, easing himself back down to the ground. "I know you're a nurse, I didn't really know where else to go-" He let out a yelp, the hands holding his phone coming down to put pressure on his side. "I'm not doing so good right now."

Stacey stepped forward cautiously, her fingers switching the latch on the pepper spray from off to on

"Wait, Lorenzo?"

Her landlord looked up at her incredulously. "Obviously, Maroni. I'm not some sconosciuto. Now, help me or not?"

Stacey shoved her pepper spray and knife into her bag, kneeling down to grab her landlord's arm. She paused as she saw the blood coating his side, but continued to hoist him up to his feet and support him as she turned the old key into the lock and helped him stumble in. "It's Dr. Maroni, actually, but since you're- oof- bleeding, I think I can forgive you."

"My bad," he choked out, flopping down onto a chair on the bottom floor of her home.

"Give me two seconds. You might need stitches."

"Ah, merda, I hate stitches."

The corner of Stacey's mouth quirked up into a half smile as she rushed up the stairs to her bathroom. Her house was a weird mishmash of rooms stacked on top of each other in between the Thai takeout place and the post office. The bottom floor was a living room and kitchen, the next floor her bedroom and bathroom, and the top floor of her closet and storage space. Stacey enjoyed the charm, the brightly painted hallways distracting from the perpetually overcast sky, but the layout was a bit hard for her to manage. She had to move her TV to her bedroom for fear of break-ins, as the living room was just past the front door.

She slipped into her sea foam green bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit under the sink- she would have to restock it later. All of her fancy equipment was at the office where she worked. Little kids were different from adults, but Stacey had trained in a variety of areas, so she knew how to apply her expertise at the office to the bleeding landlord sitting on her couch.

The bright red box tapped down on the floor as she returned to kneel beside Lorenzo, the old Italian man mumbling curses at her.

"What happened?" Stacey asked him as she motioned for him to pull off his shirt, revealing tufts of silver hair on his chest and a small knife wound in his side.