Dark Waters

Dark Waters Part 1

She immediately dropped the tray upon hearing the gunshot - it reverberated in the large ballroom, which had excellent acoustics. She was on the far side of the room, away from the activity, yet she had a good view of the group as they walked in.

Her heart seemed to stop, seeing the man in the lead. It wasn't hard to tell who he was, with the white face paint, black eyes, and jarring red lips. It was the Joker, the face she had seen in the newspapers and televised clips, striking fear into the heart of Gotham with his antics and erratic crime spree.

This was a world that was far removed from her everyday routine of work and survival. The gray hues of her sparse apartment in lower Gotham, the days and nights spent carrying dishes, washing, cooking - the debt she owed weighing her down and keeping her on the edges of life in the city. The physical toll of working constantly in a fast-paced kitchen gave her a kind of alertness that wasn't based on rest but instead on pure adrenaline and necessity, giving her the ability to perform well but also an unrelenting fatigue that plagued her.

She wondered why of all days, today she had been assigned to serving the guests instead of working the line in the kitchen. Since Bruce Wayne, the host of the event, was known as quite a ladies man, she had wondered if perhaps the catering manager wanted more women to be serving at this high-class event. Her simple ponytail and sparse makeup helped her dissolve into the background, but her striking, somewhat unsettling blue eyes may have influenced the manager's decision to add her to the service staff.

But in this moment, she forgot everything. Watching this man was utterly terrifying and also strangely captivating. She couldn't take her eyes off him. It was as if a streak of violent color was splashed onto her horizon. She hadn't noticed his bizarrely red lips in the grainy security footage that ran in news clips, but now when he was on full display, he seemed like a lightning bolt in red traveling across the white ballroom floor. She wasn't alone - the stunned crowd were all seemingly mesmerized by his shocking appearance and the turn the evening had taken. But as he drew near to each group, they looked away, afraid to make eye contact with this man and his goons. 

She watched until she could no longer see what was happening from her vantage point. The crowd seemed excited and she heard murmurs of 'Batman' - had he shown up to fight the Joker? She could hear a shot and breaking glass, and then a deadly silence fell around her. The crowd seemed to be pressed down by renewed fear. Was the Joker still here? Was Batman gone? Her mind was reeling in confusion, her thoughts slowed by panic.

Despite herself, she couldn't help looking over to see what was happening. The tall figure in the purple jacket soon reappeared, his goons surrounding him, taunting the crowd. He had appeared frustrated before, but now he looked perfectly composed and at ease. He strode through the ballroom where most people now cowered to the floor, but others seemed stunned and unable to move from their original positions. 

He was almost to the elevator when he stopped abruptly and turned his head - toward her. Was this possible? Somehow he caught her gaze from far away, and now he was looking straight at her. It was as if he had somehow felt her eyes and seen her thoughts. And now he was turning to walk to her precise location. She thought she must be in some kind of nightmare - it didn't make sense, why would he be striding toward her instead of leaving the building? The police would be on their way.

And still, she couldn't break eye contact. She was like the prey frozen in front of the predator - somehow she was fascinated seeing her inevitable demise walking toward her. She was nobody, why was he focusing on her?