Cat and Mouse

Chapter 2

"Welcome to Happy Hamburger, may I take your order?" I ask in a monotous voice that read anything but happy. After saying that phrase at least a million times, I had gotten over the peppy phase everyone went to when greeting customers.

Hmm well I guess I should explain why a kick-ass vigilante such as myself is found working at Happy Hamburger at ten o'clock the next morning when I should be in school with everyone else in Gotham City.

I had dropped out of school 4 months ago when I first turned 16. As soon as I could get any job, I had stopped my education. I guess the roots of my problems first started off like any good hero story, with my parents' death. I won't go too into that right now, but I was left without a family at the young age of 12. Going to a poor school on a high scholarship. I managed to survive for 4 years until my parents' money ran out.

"Amber!" A sharp voice calls through the practically empty fast food restaurant.

I turn around to face Mr. Wescott, my manager. He is a middle-aged man who has had one too many hamburgers in his life and most likely suffered from diabetes just by the way he lumbersover to me. He is practically out of breath by the time he reached me.

"Yes, sir?" I ask innocently.

"I don't pay you to sleep now do I?" He asks and I grind my teeth. I clench my fists and take a calming breath. I got angry easily but I couldn't lash out on my manager if i wanted to keep my job. It's the only kind of job a hardly educated 16 year old girl could get.

"No sir, sorry" I mutter, averting my eyes.

"Good, now get back to work" he says and walks away.

I turn around to face the counter. I don't get what Mr. Wescott counts as work seeing as the restaurant is practically devoid of any life. I think Wescott just hated me for whatever reason. Sighing, i brush my orange hair out of my face and wait.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I'm home" I call into the empty house, flicking on the lights. After a stuttering moment, they come to life and shroud my one-room apartment with light.

It definitely wasn't a Wayne Manor, but it was enough to get me by.  The single bed from my childhood is crowded in a corner and a desk full of papers and work rests beside it. I put my apron in the drawers resembling my closet and swap my work outfit out for old, worn jeans and a baggy shirt. Keeping my hair in its ponytail, I go to the "kitchen" (In actuality it's just a refridgerator, , sink and microwave crammed in a corner) and pick up an apple from the basket of fruit I kept above the microwave. taking a bite, I sit down on my bed and lean against the wall. Closing my eyes, I take a calming breath and allow myself to rest for a minute.

One look at the clock tells me it's just almost 7 and the sun is just beginning to set. Tossing my now-finished apple core into the trash beside my desk, I hop off my bed and move into the miniscule bathroom. I splash water on my face and stare up at the cracked mirror hanging above the sink.

Hard brown eyes stare back at me, a light splattering of freckles lining my nose. After pulling the elastic band out of my hair, my dyed orange hair cascades down my back in soft waves. Underneath you can see the natural black highlights that I had failed to dye my first time trying and decided to stick with. Running my hand down my face, I turn away from the mirror and strip out of my outfit and shower briskly with my generic shampoo.

Leaving the bathroom with nothing more than a towel wrapped around my body, I pad over to my desk, where a spandex suit is waiting.

And now for the only fun thing in my life.

"Officers, we got a 211 at the Gotham National Bank. All available units report" the old police radio on my desk said through the static. I quickly stand up, fully dressed, and run out of the dingy apartment, an orange tail following behind me.

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a 211 is an armed robbery in my state, if you didn't know. It's police code.