Between Stripes

T H I R T E E N

Solo. Individual. Alone. One. Partnerless. Those were just a few words to describe my mission. My lovely little mission.

Mr Galavan wanted me to trash a couple of shops downtown. Have fun. If I remember right he used the words 'finally feel the freedom'. Oh I was gonna feel my freedom.

I got ready for the day. Throwing on slinky black jeans, leather cargo boots, the same black top as the day before and one of Jerome's camouflage print jackets.

"Gotta blend in but gotta stand out. Ya know?" I grinned, showing Jerome my outfit. He stuck out his bottom lip.

"I wanna go with you."

"I want you to come with me but I'm not prepared to get killed by ol' Tabby's whip. Ya know?" I twirled a knife on one of my fingertips. The top of the blade dug into the bedside table. Jerome was perched on the edge of my bed.

"Neither am I in all honesty. Slit someone's throat for me? Preferably in an alleyway." Jerome's dark eyes met mine and a smirked glazed across my lips.

"Course J, anything to keep ya happy." I winked and scooped up the knife, swiftly waking out the room to meet Galavan in the main hall.

He was stood waiting, his foot tapping impatiently against the wooden floor. His suit was a jet black and no doubt it was Italian. His shoes, polished. His grey tie pressed against the pure white shirt.

Theo Galavan certainly had a powerful presence.

"Nice to see you Georgia. You look ready for a little mayhem." His eyes travelled up my body. They finally locked with mine.

"Yeah, those shopkeepers won't see me coming." I smirked at the small thought.

"I do apologise about not allowing Mr Valeska to accompany you. Without a doubt, I believe he has a taste for theatricality and we don't want too much to begin with." Galavan played with a small ring, which sat on one of his fingers, while he spoke.

"I getcha." I stated, sighing. All I wanted to do was leave this place. Get a little fresh air, that's all I asked for.

"Be back before three." He commanded, turning to walks way but I stopped his with a hand on his shoulder.

"What time's it now?" I asked.

"Eleven. Now get a move in." There was a certain darkness in his voice which made me drop my hand and head to the front door.

The streets of Gotham were filled with people. Rushing past to get to work or to go shopping or whenever they needed to go. Traffic was basically the sound of car alarms and sick engines.

I found myself walking down a street filled with run-down homes and small convenience stores. Perfect targets.

The next street on, there was a series of diners. You could find the best sushi or the spiciest curry or a classic 80s diner. It had a pretty broad range.

In the end I chose a particularly small convenience store where a short Asian man stood at the cash register. I'd love to see him squirm.

Stepping inside I nodded curtly at him as he beamed at me with a plastic grin on his face. Some woman was paying for a carton of milk.

They sell candy here?

Yeah. They sold candy obviously. There was a whole isle dedicated to the sugary sweets.

Chocolate looks good.

Various bars of chocolate sat, stacked in neat piles, waiting for a hand to grasp them.

I began to act as if I was looking for a particular type of chocolate. (That wasn't hard, there was a shit tonne.)

The ding of the door closing woke me from my search. Time to gut the fish.

I snatched a random bar and headed to the cash register. Slamming it down on the counter I stuck a hand into my jacket pocket. The blade was still there.

Beep.

"That'll be seventy five cents please, ma'm." The small man looked up at me and I let the crazy grin sweep across my face. I tugged my hand out he pocket; the blade was free.

"Ya know who I am mista?" I locked eyes with him. He trembled a little.

"N-no ma'm. I just move here, about three months ago." His words stumbled out his mouth and I sniggered.

"O-oh b-bless y-you." I snickered, imitating him. "I'm Georgia Fishwick. Psycho killer. Escapee of the infamous Arkham Asylum. Heard of that?"

"Y-yes ma'm I heard of the b-breakout." He was shaking by now.

"Oh good. Now, spread the word that the Maniax aren't tamed by nobody." I snarled, grabbing a shaking hand of his. I dragged the blade across his soft skin. Shrieks of pain escaped his mouth. They only encouraged me.

Once I'd done I looked at my handy work. The letter 'M' was jagged on his skin. Red streamed onto his fingers.

"Spread the word." I snapped before running out the shop and into the hoards of people outside.

Shopkeepers notoriously gossiped and if the Asian man followed the stereotype, then we'd be the talk of the city for a little time before our next mission took place.

After the small convenience store, I aimed a little higher. A coffee shop which was halfway down on the next street. It was busy but not exactly crowded.

I walked inside, dragging my feet on the mat. Can't be trailing mud around, can we?

That'd just be rude.

Exactly. I had simple manners after all.

I took my place in the small queue and began to examine the bright boards which hung from the ceiling.

In front of me was a woman. She stood there, chatting away on her phone to some nobody. By judging her voice, she was an upperclass citizen. By judging her clothes, my suspicions were confirmed.

She wore a long, fuzzy, tan coat which was tied at the waist. Her legs were covered by clean white jeans. She had a pair of light brown ankle boots on her feet. Unfortunately I couldn't see her top but I could see the expensive looking bag which hung from her elbow. It was pure white and had gold accents. Her long platinum hair sat in curls and was spread across her back and shoulders.

Rich bitch.

She somewhat reminded me of my sisters. Good ol' Charlotte and what's-her-face.

Rich bitch was second in line when I decided to do it. I took out my knife and grabbed her.

A squeal of surprise left her mouth. Shocked gasps echoed in the small room.

"Y'all know who I am?" I shouted, a few hushed whispers was the only response I received.

"Well, in Georgia Fishwick. Insane kiddo who slaughtered her family. Newly escaped patient of Arkham Asylum." I announced and rich bitch shook under my grasp. I pushed knife against her throat. A small droplet of blood crawled down her neck.

"I'm apart of a lovely group. We're called the Maniax and we're gonna wreck some havoc. Spread the word my friends!" With that, I dug the knife deep into the woman's neck and pulled it across her neck.

I watched as she fell to floor, choking on her own blood, and then left the shop. Two down, one to go. Just a little stabbing in an alley. It'd be easy as pie.