Freedom

Part 33: Gary Houser

Danica watched the daily news, feet propped up an ottoman. She smoked a cigarette casually, bored out of her fucking mind. That was until she saw a profile picture of an infamous politician named Gary Houser on the screen; a Philanthropist, an otherwise generous man but he was once more acquitted of all charges of sex trafficking, child pornography-Danica's face paled, sitting straight up to glare at the television as if it had personally delivered the news. Danica's lip curled. Acquitted. Yeah, in Gotham, it meant guilty as fuck, but we won't-or can't-do shit about it.

Danica clicked her tongue thoughtfully. She knew Galavan would have think it as insubordination. But she wasn't like Barbara Kean. She was impatient and wanted to leave the house. Even now, the Maniax were scurrying the town with plans of kidnapping and arson in their wake. Danica scorned, All the boys are having fun.

She'd make do with her next target. Jerome advised her to "let go", but she rightly remembered that there were things that made him indignant as well that had happened in his past. With that, however impaired logic, it seemed that she felt justified to specifically target this politician. At any rate, Gotham would see it as a public service like the Balloon Man-taking out corrupt officials. The only person who had thought unhighly of that was Gordon for moral fiber.
Well, Galavan would probably reprimand her for sneaking out after such a big debut on television.

Fuck him, Danica thought with a cynical scoff. I'm thinking about this too much anyway. Follow Jerome's lead. Just fucking do it.

And that seemed the extra push.

Danica gathered her supplies for the road. She knew where to go. If she hadn't known his address, it would have been easy to hit up any local nightclub for information; none of them would have tried to protect him, especially if their own self-preservation was at stake.

This was Gotham.

The public wasn't too concerned about a hooded and cloaked maniac on the loose. One every television set, the mainstream was broadcasting a bus being showered with gasoline, Jerome being the main focus of the show. When Danica passed one of the television stores and saw his face on each screen, her heart jumped with excitement and reassurance,
Her showman had some pretty photogenic genes. And oh, he would find this hilarious. Maybe.

Danica escalated her body up the defense gate, whishing by cameras, knowing she would probably only have a few hours before the body guards-Ooh, one, two, three: fuck, how many body guards does this guy need? Definitely guilty.
Danica stayed hidden in the bushes as the security guards made their rounds outsid in front of the building. They're expecting hitmen, perhaps. That's what you get for being a public figure, right? Well, then, I guess we're sneaking through the bushes.

Danica scowled. Fucking shit being harder than what she thought. See this is what happens when you just jump right into it without some planning.

"Shut up, I know," Danica rasped in a whisper. She clamped her hand tight around her mouth, realizing that she broke her inner monologue. The guards, bigger up close than they were from a distance, turned in her direction swiftly.
Oh, fuck. Separate in pairs at least. Like the dumb muscle-fucks you are.

One of them discussed with the others. Yeah, I'm just a cat in the bushes. One of you think it's serious. The others don't care.

One came her way.
Yes!
Danica scampered under the brush, quickly, quickly, quickly.

Then she lay still. You don't see me. I'm not here. I'm just a squirrel that scampered away.

The guard stationed over the bushes, glanced her way. She met his eyes. You don't see me.