Red Moon

Creative Differences

Henrietta Swartztrawber was a painter.

Well, sort of.

When Henri was about 7, her father took her and her brothers to an art expo. Her brothers and she were dreading it. The name Swartztrawber had certain expectations, as any millionaire family would. Henri was more so bothered by the hypocrisy of her father than the actual attending of the expo. Her father was a scientist, he studied stars and the sky, discover at least three new distant suns before she was even born. Her father often mock artists and their lack of appreciation for the "beauty of nature".

But this art wasn't the new age acrylic and cotton canvas. It was ancient oils and pictures depicting landscapes and warriors and battles. Her brothers said they were Vikings, and Henri was instantly in love.

She stared at each painting at the expo unblinkingly for five minutes each, memorizing each brushstroke and smudge. Later at home, she recreated each painting herself, so she would have them, to hoard them like a dragon with gold. Unfortunately, that was called forgery, and her father became red in the face when he saw each perfectly mimicked piece of artwork.

Her brothers thought it was hilarious, how their baby sister had the makings of an art thief, how she didn't think it was wrong to copy beautiful pieces of artwork and kept them rather than buying the original.

That's how becoming a painting restorer began she supposed.

She just had to see the original painting, and reapply paint in the right places and stitch canvas and cover it expertly, and it was a hobby for small time museums (because she can only have hobbies, it's not like she needed a job, anyway) until the curator at Gotham Museum of Art saw her work, and begged her to help restore a whole gallery of paintings that were tampered with during a raid from the Penguin.

Irony of all ironies, it was the 1600-1800's Scandinavian section, the very paintings she forged years ago. If she fixed one painting a week, she'd be in the job for at least eleven years.

Well, it gave her time to kill when she wasn't patrolling and a decent alter ego.

By day, quiet restorer Henri; by night, ass kicking vigilante the Moon.

God, it's like one of her brothers' old comic books.

But Henri was happy. Each tattered piece of artwork left her private studio as if it was brand new, and she felt some sort of pride when the painting was back to the way it was originally.

Her brothers had called her "Dr. Art", it was one of the kinder things they have called her over the years.

She tried not to dwell on the not-so-nice-nicknames.

But painting was relaxing. Henri didn't have to think about how she's going fix the Lunar Cycle, or how her knee aches after kneeing a thug in the nose, or how long it will take for the bruise on her back to disappear. She just had to focus on the paint color, the stroke, the shading; it was nearly like turning off her brain and leaving her body to the rest. She didn't need to worry about the design, it's not like it's an original of her's anyway.

Her studio door opened, and all of Henri's muscles froze, waiting for the intruder to make the first move, already thinking about how she could take down the person if they meant harm.

"Miss Swartstrob- Swartztray- Miss?" The shy female voice called out.

Henri sighed in relief it was Selene, the secretary, who couldn't pronounce German. It bothered Henri she was beginning to plan an attack.