Reputation (a Nygma Story)

Ready for it?

I see how this is gon' go
Touch me and you'll never be alone

Two days ago I had to leave town. My mother's will is no longer an option, apparently. When did I think this was a good idea? Being on the run is never an option that can last forever, so Gotham is my new enviroment. Metropolis is maybe too far or too close, but the last thing I want to do at the moment is consider what could've happened if I just would've handle things differently.

Gotham is a place of crime and chaos... where else is my place if not here? According to the authorities, I'm a criminal. If at any time turns out I'm not, at least I will know how it feels like to have nothing in the world. That always gives perspective in life.

My new place is a cute, little appartment, which I don't know exactly how I'm going to pay, but the street was the only other option, since all of my assets are frozen. This place is on a high floor, with neon signs outside my window. I have trouble sleeping, but I don't know if is my conscience or the lights, that bothers me.

I'm on a walk right now, looking for a place to have something cheap to eat. For a moment, I stop on the outside of a little coffee place that seems nice, a little dark, but a very tasty smell came out of it. Nothing that smells so warm and cozy can be bad, right?

I come inside, ask for a cup of tea, just to feel like home. This is a loud place, crowded. I'm very tired, which takes me to look for a place to sit. A flikering light is anoying me. All spots are occupied but one. On it, a kind of geeky guy is seated. He is tall, white, with brown hair; has glasses and a green tie. He seems very into the papers on his table, beside a half filled cup of dark coffee. It is almost a crime to disrupte him, but I have no other option. I come close and say on the lower, tender voice that I can:

- Is this spot free?

He's scared anyway and looks at me with what I would call caution.

- No, it's not, but...

I am not going to let him kick me out. I sit and start sipping at my tea. He seems uncomfortable. I start conversation, so he doesn't feel so invaded.

- What are you reading? - I ask.
- My boss needs me to clarify some terms for a conference that he has to give tomorrow to the media.
- Your boss? What do you do?
- I work for the major.
- Interesting.
- Not that much... He is a very good friend.
- That means you are not actually working?
- No, I am.

I can't think of any other thing to say. The awkwardness is rising by the moment.

Without thinking it too much I say:

- What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?

He looks up, grinning like a devil, and answers:

- Silence.

From that moment on, the conversation starts to go by itself. He asks some riddles, I ask some more, laughter and cute answers. Something about all this feels incredibly warm. I have the feeling that this man is smarter than me... and that scares me as well. We talk about life, on a not personal level, curiously. Neither is giving any particular information about ourselves, but I feel that we are getting closer and closer on another level. More deeply. On the fundamental things.

He is an intellectual; a funny man, on his own way. Maybe to a lot of people, he would pass as quirky or weird, but not to me. I love this kind of people. The kind that goes beyond the surface to get to know someone. He asks all the right questions: what makes me laugh, what makes me angry, things that I found grose, or important. We didn't have to say our names to be close to each other. I am glad I don't have to say mine. I don't belive he would be fond of me if he finds out who I am. My situation is not ideal for me to meet anyone right now; I'm waiting to know if I'm going to jail... What can I do? All the papers are printing my story on Metropolis... since the crime was comitted in Gotham, is safe to asume it's on every paper here too. Do they have my picture? Does this man knows? For some reason, I don't want him to find out... What if he does? Everything is so much easier when there is a blank related to you. No backgrownd or reputation to be afraid of. If he finds out and chooses not to be around me anymore, at least now I know what to expect from the world.

I think I was not really ready for this gigantic truck to hit me. Why do I care about this person, why does this matters to me? He seems an honest man. His naive smile is like a magnet that attracts my eyes at every other moment. There is something about him that amazes me: he doesn't really wants to know my shell. He is right here, right now. Doesn't care about where do I come from or where I'm headed. He wants to look deep into my soul; I do too, to be honest. His... and mine.

Anyway... I don't want to leave right now. This is the closest that I've been with any other human being in days, and my mind needs the challenge. He, on the other side, starts collecting his belongings from the table. He maybe realize how overwhelmed I feel, touches my hand and asks:

- It belongs to you, but other people use it more than you do. What is it?

I think for a moment. My heart lights up.

- My name is Kat. - I'm scared to say it out loud.
- I'm Edward. Same time, tomorrow?

I nod, timid. I guess I'm ready.