Not exactly a villain, not exactly a hero, Cheyenne, an assassin in Gotham City is given a proposition by Batman himself. In 92 days, she is to hand Joker over to the authorities of Gotham or turn herself in.
She goes undercover as a dancer in his c...
"Inmate," I hear for the fifth time. They thought I was still asleep, but to tell the truth, I've been awake for hours. When I was woken up to go make buns, after the fact that I had been force-fed, I shoved the rest of the Milano cookies down my throat. What happened last night, I couldn't stop thinking about Joker and began wondering whether or not acting the way I did that day was worth where I'm at now. I couldn't even look Graham in the eye, no matter how much he assured me that what happened was ok. It stressed me out, made me depressed. The only thing I could do was stress eat those cookies and I did. They didn't exactly agree with whatever meal replacement they were giving me. If I managed to stand or even roll over, I was 100% sure I'd throw up. "Inmate, get up."
I groan, curling into a fetal position as I feel my stomach lurch slightly. I bring my clammy hand up to push my hair out of my face before I can manage to talk to them. "What?" I mumble, not even turning to look at Griggs and whatever other officers might be there. "I-I did everything you wanted me to do. Buns..."
"You have a session scheduled today. Did you forget?" He says, stepping into my cell. "He's gonna ask some questions about that notebook you found. We can prove it's Graham's, we just need your statement. We can get you eating just as soon as tonight. Get up."
I huff, blowing air out of my lips before I bury my face in my pillow. I didn't really care about that notebook anymore or about what he wrote in it. We were cool now and I had no vendetta against him. "Th-That notebook doesn't matter anymore. I don't care about the food. P-Please. Just let me lay here."
"Cheyenne," I hear him say before snapping his fingers. "You don't really have a choice. Your counselor wants to see you now."
Moments later, I feel a pair of rough hands grab my arm and hoist me up off the bed too recklessly. I whimper, feeling a burning sensation in my throat and as soon as they set my feet down on the ground, everything in my stomach comes up in an instant.
By the time I'm done, I feel completely empty, but I feel so much better. Either way, I could feel the angry tension in the air as Griggs looked down at his vomit covered boots before glaring at me. Even though I knew I was about to get in trouble, I couldn't help but laugh a little at my unintentional payback.
"Have you been eating real food?" He asks, motioning for the guards holding me to push me out into the hallway and they do promptly. I'm face to face with Graham who is sitting in his bed. He sits up, his expression like stone, but I could see a panic in his eyes that I had never seen before. He didn't want me to tell, but I wasn't about to get another weak of meal suspension. I wouldn't survive it and Graham knew that.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Yes, sir," I say quietly, holding my hands in front of me as a guard cuffs me. Griggs clenches his jaw, his face going red as he gets angrier and angrier.
