Before We Grow

Missing Brimsey

It was a terrible idea. By far, the worst idea I had ever come up with. The Joker had killed people more experienced than me. For awhile, some even thought he killed Batman. He wouldn't hesitate, but I might. It was the worst idea ever to come to anybody in the history of the world.
    Then again, I'm the one who vowed revenge on Superman. I'm the ten-year-old who wants to kill a god.
    I have to question where Lucille Brimsey truly died. Just three months ago, I was the girl who worried about landing the flip rather than hunting a bat. I used to be the girl who cried when she stepped on an ant, and now I'm going to kill a clown.
    I was no longer Lucille Brimsey, that much was sure. The day that building fell was the day I died inside. Lucille Brimsey, the happy go-lucky little girl was replaced with Blitz, the electric demon.
    Maybe, if I knew my parent's souls were resting soundly, I could go back to being that Lucille. I could go back to being the girl who cared more about gymnastic than anything else in the world, and who would never, ever, in a million years think about killing anyone.
    I don't know what the future holds. I don't know who I'll be tomorrow, or if I'll ever go back to the life I once knew. I didn't even know if I would ever be happy again. This world was filled with people, yet I was alone.
    There was no other choice. If I ever hoped to find closure, I would have to take Superman down. The first step was finding, and killing, The Joker.
    All this buzzed around in my mind as I left the diner. I had had the first real meal since my parents died. As a celebration of my success against Poison Ivy the night before, I ordered the biggest pile of chocolate chip pancakes they had. As I ate, I tried to ignore the curious stares of other diner attendees.
    The street was bustling with activity. It was a hazy day in Gotham, making it difficult to see through my sunglasses. Despite that, and the sticky air, I felt happier than I had been in a long time. The thrill of taking down a supervillain had stuck with me, even past the disappointment of my encounter with Batgirl.
    So far, nothing was going according to plan, yet everything was. It was falling into place easier than pieces of the puzzle. I had learned not to make a plan, as it very seldom went my way. All I needed was a goal, and the steps to that goal would slowly reveal themselves.
    My mind was so clouded with success, and the weight of a heavy meal, that I barely noticed the two men in trenchcoats walking towards me. They blended in with the rest of the crowd. I only noticed them when they were practically on top of me. Each one grabbed one of my arms, stopping me in the middle of the sidewalk.
    "Hey!" I exclaimed, "What do you think you're doing?!"
    The man on my left, a blonde supermodel-type man, glanced down at me, "Lucille Brimsey, you can either come with us willingly or forcefully.
    "I don't know who you're talking about. My name is Ann Waters, thank you very much. Now, let me go before I call my father."
    The one on my right pulled off my hat while the one on the left pulled off my glasses. My brown hair and blue eyes were exposed to the world, as was my scowl. It was over, the jig was up.
    The two cops lifted me off the ground and began to carry me between them. I fought with all my might, but they were much stronger. Of course, the one day I chose not to wear my weapons, I get caught.
    They took me to a van in a nearby parking lot. Throwing me in the back, they quickly handcuffed my right hand to the handle on the cieling. It happened so quickly, I barely even registered what was happening.
    "This will never hold me! I'll break out!" I cried, tugging at the cuff.
    "Of course you will."
    The cops ignored me, focusing on driving. Gotham traffic was generally pretty bad, but, of course, the one day I need it, the roads are clear. We arrived at the police headquarters in under twenty minutes.
    They unlocked my cuff and pulled me out of the back. Once again carrying me between them, they made their way into the police station. I fought with everything I had. By the time they made it to our destination, I had managed to flip upside down and press one of my feet into the cheek of the man on my right. They simply ignored me.
    "Chez, Baskets, put the girl down," a new voice stated, "I'll handle her."
    The two cops holding me gently placed me on my feet. I tried to dash towards the door, but they stopped me. They pushed me down into the office chair where a new man came up and cuffed my hand to the arm rest.
    I had seen this man on the Tv yesterday. It was Commissioner James Gordon. He looked exactly as he did on Tv. With the same light auburn hair, lighter even than the sky, and thick mustache. He even had the same glasses that made him seem as if he didn't have eyes. Now, however, I could see them. They were a dark brown, like cookies straight out of the oven. He radiated kindness, something I'm fairly certain he didn't show to most people who came in this office.
    "Would you like a hot chocolate, Lucille?" he asked, casually leaning against the desk.
    I did my best to look intimidating, which was difficult considering the chair caused my legs to stick straight out. The arm rest barely came up to my stomach. It was like it was swallowing me.
    "I don't accept hot chocolate from people who kidnapped me!" I exclaimed, jerking at the handcuff.
    He gently placed a hand on my arm, "You're only hurting yourself further."
    I stopped jerking at the handcuff. He retracted his arm, returning to his casual leaning against the desk.
    "Lucy-can I call you Lucy?" he asked.
    "No."
    "Lucille," he corrected, "What on Earth are you doing in Gotham? It's a long ways from home."
    "My parents are buried here."
    It was the truth, a perfect excuse. In reality, that was only a tiny nugget of the story. I wasn't going to tell him anymore if I didn't have to.
    "Those CPS agents have been quite worried about you," he smiled, "How long have you been here?"
    "Long enough."
    "Why'd you run, Lucille?"
    I realized that the cuffs were made for adults. If I could bend my hand properly, I could slip my hand out. It would be painful, but worth it if I were able to escape.
    "I didn't want to go back," I admitted, "Into the system, I mean. I've already lost two families, there was no way I would be lucky enough to find another."
    Gordon looked down at me sympathetically. I didn't need his sympathy, or anyone's for that matter. What I needed was a distraction so I could bolt.
    "You can't just live on your own," Gordon's voice was gentle.
    I huffed, "Watch me."
    Gordon frowned. I cared nothing about his approval. He could call me the devil himself for all I care, none of that mattered.
    "You're only ten, Lucille," Gordon leaned down a little, "Ten-year-old's need a house, a family, food, you can't get that on your own."
    "I can and I will."
    Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose. He was obviously exasperated with me, but I couldn't care less. I just wanted to get out, and to complete the mission I came here for.
    "Look, I'm going to have to turn you in," Gordon explained, "They found a nice foster family down in Santa Monica. Nice parents, large house, two other kids, a couple dogs, it's perfect for a kid like you."
    I sneered, "You know nothing about me. I won't go back into the system, not again."   
    "You don't have a choice."
    "I'll make one."
    At that moment, my fingers folded enough to allow my hand to slip out of the cuffs. They hit the side of the chair with a rattle.
    Before Gordon even realized what was happening, I leapt from the chair. He grabbed for me, but I was smaller and quicker. I ducked his hands and sprinted towards the door. Flinging it open, I was met with several cops scattered about the station.
    "Don't let her get away!" Gordon shouted.
    They didn't have an option. I was smaller than them, and much quicker. When they lunged for me, I slid between their legs. They didn't even realize what was happening.
    With a thousand different hands reaching for me, I ran towards the door. A few actually grabbed me, but I bit them, making them turn loose. One time, I even drew blood.
    Through some miracle, I made it to the front door. Ramming into it with my shoulder, I fell out into the street.
    Passerbys looked at me frightfully. I leapt to my feet, sprinting away from the station. I had to get back to the hotel, and I had to lose the cops.
    As I rounded a corner, I was met with a face full of pink fabric and toned muscles. The girl and I went tumbling over each other. Her coffee spilled out over the both of us. It burned my skin, but I ignored it.
    For a moment, we both glanced into each other's eyes. Something inside of me sparked, like someone meeting their soulmate. Except, for me, I was meeting my future, I just didn't know it yet.
    She looked somewhat familiar. Her ginger hair framed her pale face, and her freckles were like constellations. She stared at me, and something in her green eyes clicked.
    "I know you," she whispered.
    "Not likely!"
    I leapt up, beginning to sprint down the streets. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I registered her shouting, "Wait!"
    Nobody was able to catch me. I might not be strong, but I was fast, and I was flexible. I was able to fit through gaps in fences and between buildings that the cops couldn't. I was also able to outrun them ten to one.
    I made it back to my hotel in one piece. Dropping onto the ground, I closed my eyes and breathed. My lungs were on fire, and my muscles hurt so bad, I was scared they would melt. It took a lot of energy to run that, I probably burned off my breakfast.
    "I hate... this town," I breathed.
    The cops here were much better than the ones back home. I would have to be more careful, and I would have to come up with a better disguise. Maybe a wig. If there was someway to make myself taller, that would help the most. I would definitely have to get a wig.