━ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒.
❛ she set the world on fire and called it rain ❜
in which the younger sister of the
valeska twins is put up for adoption,
later being taken in by james gordon
and barbara kean, only to move to
a dreadful city where...
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━━━━★✼☆｡━━━━
❝ what are you afraid of? ❞
━━━━★✼☆｡━━━━
if you guys don't comment like crazy, i'm going to be pissed, lmao. i've been writing this for three days and it turned out to be 7,000+ words, so please show some love
OBTAINING A GUN was an easy feat. Almost too easy. Then again, Gotham was swarming with criminals, crimes being committed left and right, endless amounts of weapons and drugs flooding the dirty, busy streets. All she had to do was approach one of Selina's trusted contacts, pay fifty bucks she got from stealing from rich people's pockets as they strolled down the street, and the gun was her's to keep for as long as she pleased. Even walking to the alleyway she was supposed to meet Bruce in was easy. Everything was easy, to the point where it was sickening. No one passing by her would have guessed she was carrying an item that could take a life. No one bothered glancing in her direction, the fame that her brother's death brought onto her now faded away, much to her delight.
As she walked past countless strangers, she wondered if they knew she had blood on her hands. And now she was going to have more. The second she handed over the gun to Bruce, the death of the man who killed his parents would weigh not only on his shoulders but on her's too. Because she was providing the weapon and he was pulling the trigger. If she had decided not to give it to him, the man might have lived. He was still alive though, she knew that much. Maybe he wouldn't kill him, maybe he'd change his mind. Either way, she told herself that she was going to be supportive.
He deserved revenge, he deserved to stare that man right in the eye as he pulled the trigger. So, if she really thought that, why did the gun weigh so heavy in her pocket? All those times before she would carry around a weapon, she never felt as if boulders were trying to crush her. It was always light, reassuring. Perhaps it was because she knew that in her possession was the weapon that would make Bruce Wayne a murder. Deep down it didn't feel right. Him? A killer? The thought would have never crossed her mind, he just wasn't the type, he wasn't.
It was too late to turn back and at this point, she was sure that if she turned around now and never handed over the gun, he would find one on his own, going to lengths that could potentially harm him. He couldn't defend himself. Bruce was nothing but the heir to a fortune. he did not know how to fight. Not yet at least. Still, he had morals. And she had been positive that those morals ruled out killing, deemed it unnecessary and cruel. She was wrong. Because here she was, leaning back against a brick wall in an ally, hands in her pockets, listening to the cars drive by, the stray cats roaming around, and the occasional sound of sirens flying past.
