Between Stripes

T H I R T Y F I V E

As soon as I got out the building, I began to run. Without waiting I broke into a sprint. Air flew through me; I had to be free. My arms pumped. My feet ached. My brain on mute. The lights and noises of the never-sleeping city were simply a blur. I had to get far away and fast, before any of the braindead zombies, which followed Jerome happily, could notice me.

After running for what seemed like forever, I began to slow down. Things came into focus. My thoughts came back.

As everything came into focus I realised that Gotham was back to its usual self. I rounded a corner into an alleyway and reassured of it. A hobo was warming his dark, mitten-covered hands. Another was laid next to him, covered in dirt, rags and trash bags. I'd happily put them out their misery.

With a smirk on my face, I slide a blade out my jacket and approached them.

"Look dude, I'm tryna warm my hands I dont want no trouble-" The one by the fire said before turning to face me, his voice abruptly cutting off.

"C-can I help you?" he stuttered, ever so slowly moving backward but he found himself pressed against the wall.

"No. It's more like, can I help you ? And the answer to that,"I paused to raise the blade, and saw the fear in his eyes which made me smirk. I plunged the blade into his chest,"is yes."

He died quietly, taking in a gasp of polluted air before slumping against the wall with his eyes and mouth still open. Satisfying but not enough. I tugged the blade from his chest, wiped it on his tatty jacket and stepped toward his pal on the floor. His snores had been muffled by the trash which decorated the floor around him. It was as if he'd made his own trash coffin; the plastic bags and damp clothing slowly suffocating him already. I figured that I'd be doing hima favour. Quick and painful.

Again, I plunged the knife into a chest. His eyes flew open for a mere second before they shut again. See he'd much rather it be fast.

No mercy today then?

She never has mercy, what're you talking about?

I smiled at the voices as I walked out the alley and onto the streets, taking in Gotham properly for the first time in god-knows-how long.

It was the polar opposite of what it'd been last time I'd seen it. Everything was back to normal. The insects which was cars were crawling by; peculiar smells surrounded me; yells and shouts escaped the towering buldings; music of all kinds pulsed.

I let my feet take charge as I looked at my surroundings. It reminded me of back when all the Maniax were alive and kicking. Look at us now. Two dead. One reborn. One in Arkham (presumably). And one free as a bird.

Not hard to guess who are you.

I wouldn't call you a bird, personally. More like an eagle.

Or a falcon.

A bird of prey either way.

Agreed.

I couldn't help but smile to myself. But that was cut short by someone grabbing me and pulling me into an alleyway. Two hands trapped me, slamming against the wall either side of my head.

"You're too easy, Fishwick." the voice said, I looked up to find a very pale, bald man staring back at me. His familiar dark eyes found mine.

Victor Zsasz. Long time no see indeed.

"Whatcha mean Vicky?" I asked, slightly confused. I wasn't running from anyone or anything. I'd no need to.

"You don't know do you?" He asked and I shook my head, a devious smirk glazed his lips. "You've gotta have a permit to commit crimes now."

"Who's rule is that then?"

"Penguins. And you've not got one. So you're coming with me. Penguin wants to see you anyway." He stated before stepping back and offering me an arm. Hiding the confusion on my face, I linked my arm through his.

Good move.

Don't wanna bring out Nasty Vicky.

That never ends well.

"No threats or weapons pressed into my back today?" I asked looking up at him. He chuckled lightly.

"Nope, I figure that you'd rather be on Penguins good side."

"I'll be on his good side no matter what. Me and Ozzie have always been friends."

"Nobodys friends with anyone these days." He chuckled again - a rare but nice sound.

"You just have no friends." I muttered.

"I heard that Fishwick." He murmured, his voice sinking lower.

"Oh good. Anyway, had any good kills recently?"

"Only light threatening, truly boring but I've had a few friends to entertain me." He smirked again.

"I've told you before and now I'm telling you again, hookers and strippers are no good. Their lady parts have been through hell and back. They'll have all sorts of diseases."

"Yeah but I've got my eye on someone new now." He looks down at me, his gaze lasting a little longer than usual. My mouth blossomed into a smirk.

"Oh yeah, who could that be?"

"I wouldn't know but I heard that she has a habit for killing poor hobos." He chuckled once again. I followed his lead and let a stream of laughter escape my mouth. It was nice.

Never trust a contract killer.

Never, ever, ever.

I didn't plan on trusting him, I planned on having fun.

A.N.

So, wham bam shasam here's another chapter! Not exactly thrilling but stuff happens. I've got an idea but I'm not exactly sure whether I'll go through with it or not. How're ya'll anyway? How's school? Mines okay. A teacher got fired the other day because a student started swearing at her and that. Usual stuff I suppose. I'm seriously regretting picking statistics as one of my subjects for GCSE though, but photography and art make up for it.

Sorry about that helluva paragraph, see ya'll never time my spoilers!