Knifes and Killers

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Gotham/ Janurary/ 5:05

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The streets of Gotham are silent and dark.

Most of the street lamps are burnt out. Leaving the in a nearly inky blackness, but She hardly worries. She's used to the night. To the darkness that envelops her.

The darkness that has brought her such great horrors, yet such great amazement. It seems almost calming to her. The girl feels as if nothing is chasing her, when in truth, she has so many things to run from. In the moment she feels as if it's okay to stop; to take a break from running. Even if it was just for a little while.

"Sadly, non of these moments last," the girl thinks to herself as a shrill shriek pierces through the nearly silent night.

She begins to run towards the sound, jumping effortlessly across buildings, and occasionally showing off to no one as she performs flips and handsprings into the night.

The crisp night air feels like a fresh slap to the face face as she glides across the rooftops. Winter has just finished, and the cold sharp air heightens her senses, keeping the girl on high alert.

She slows her pace as she approaches the dingy ally where the cries were coming from. She peers down to the scene to find a small, frail woman being cornered by a man that was much larger than her. His smooth bald head shines in the pale street lights as does the dim silver blade of a knife against the women's throat.

"Typical street thug, always going for the easy ones," The girl thinks, rolling her eyes from under the dark mask she adorns in disgust. "How about I make this a bit more challenging for you, buddy."

The girl pounces down from her perch on the roof above them, landing swiftly on top of a large trash bin resulting in a loud clattering noise to ring throughout the tight alley. The thug's attention snaps from the quivering lady to the sudden noise. The outline of the girls illuminating in the shadows as the mans beady eyes turn to her.

"Hey, this ain't none of your business. Step back, bud!" The thug calls out, his voice gruff and unsteady as the girl smirks.

"Oh, but you see, it is my business when sloppy street thugs think they can threaten innocents," she say calmly to the street thug as she moves gracefully from atop the garbage bin.

The girl steps into the dim light of the street lamp and the warm yellow glow illuminates her, frame clad in a sleek black jumpsuit with a mask for her eyes to match. The girls black hair is pulled into two tight braids and her combat boots tread lightly on the cement. The thug lets out a hoarse bark of a laugh, she looks no older than fifteen.

"What you gonna do little girl. Go get your mommy?" He lets out another hagged laugh. The girl hardly shares his amusement as she slowly stalks closer.

"Please, I don't need any mother to deal with one sloppy old thug holding a knife," she taunts, letting out a dry chuckle.

"You better watch it. Ain't no one called me sloppy and gotten away without their throat cut," the thug says turning the knife towards the intruder. The woman behind seizes her chance to flee from the scene with a fast run and the thug pays no attention to her; now having bigger fish to fry.

"Oh darling," The girl says, her tone as sweet as honey as she reaches to the blades attached to her back. The cold hilt grasped between her fingers as she pulls the delicate blade from its sheath.

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