hellraiser765
01-09-2002, 05:46 PM
Hi, my name's hellraiser765, I'm new here and this is my first time posting on the fanfiction boards. I hope you don't mind me contributing- all of you are awesome writers, and I don't suppose you'd accept a humble writer such as myself into your grouping.
I enjoy writing the dark and dreary, and the following is merely a prologue to a 'Dark Knight' story I'm planning to write. Although it's not really as emotional as I intended it to be the first time I sat down to write, I decided that perhaps letting the reader (you) see this installment from a broader point of view and perhaps make some interpretations for yourself...
In either case, happy reading!
-------------------
Lingering Darkness
PROLOGUE
She breathed- lungs aching and heaving for air as her desperate footsteps pounded through the deserted alley. It had been raining hours earlier; the pavement shone a slick, silver wet underneath the feeble light of the full moon. Muffled voices and shuffling of feet told her they were near- dangerously near. Clutching the small, leather pouch she carried with a firm grip, she whipped her head around to glance behind her.
A short distance away, rounding the corner, a series of silhouetted figures ran towards her. Gunshots rang through her ears, some striking the metal garbage cans lining the alley walls, others chipping bricks and smashing windows. She forced herself to speed up her pace, her lungs threatening to collapse as she pumped her arms and legs forward, pushing herself over the edge.
Now she could hear their voices more clearly, but she still blurred them out, recognizing only sworn curses and shouted commands. She dived into the next side alley, hoping to confuse them with a zigzag course through the alley mazes. Except this time, she zagged instead of zigged and wound up facing a dead-end alley.
Sweat dripping from her brow, her heart pounded and her breath came in short heaves. Running a trembling hand through her damp, blonde tendrils, she turned to face the approaching figures, eyes wide and mouth agape.
****
A cool breeze wafted through the gloomy streets, winding around buildings and smaller structures that had seen better days, but still stood inevitably proud Gothic monuments of the city’s shadowed demeanour. Above head, the night lurked in, its feverish blue-black colour inking over the skies and rousing its nightly protector, the full moon, to cast its feeble light on what was Gotham City.
Upon the highest city peak, the Gotham Clock Tower, The Batman stood rigidly, leaning tiredly against one of the gruesomely sculpted gargoyles that had made their home here. It had seemed like a long night- it usually took him only about two hours to crash a mafia party, take care of an arrest and escape without a scratch to show for it. However, this time it seemed to take hours to fight only a mere grouping of eight men- an easy task for the once, younger Dark Knight- and this time, he had much wounds to show for.
Placing a gloved hand on his injured shoulder, he winced at the slight jolt of pain the touch withdrew, and grimaced as he found the wound to still be bleeding like mad. His left side had a small gash penetrating through his rubber-armour, but in no better condition then his shoulder. Batman was almost relieved at the thought that once he would get home, a comfortable bed and treatments for his injuries waited to rest and nurture him.
However, a sudden piercing scream from the streets below caused him to look downwards. A few blocks from his perch, he spotted a blurb of several black dots approaching an almost invisible figure pinned against an alley wall. Dismissing his earlier, comforting thoughts, Batman pulled out his grapnel and hook, ready to swing in for the rescue.
****
The approaching shadows produced banshee-like grins as they closed in around their prey. Pressing her back against the alley wall, the woman let out another desperate shriek for help, followed by a helpless whimper at the sight of a glistening, black weapon pointed towards her.
“Shut your pie-hole, lady, or I will!” One of the aggravated shadows instructed coldly. From his black-gloved hand, he gripped a simple, black hand gun, his thumb threateningly massaging the trigger.
“Cool it, Slick.” Another said behind him, his hand reaching out to slowly lower his partner’s extended weapon arm. He then turned towards the deathly, pale woman, calmly approaching her with a wicked gleam in his pale, blue eyes. “Look lady, all we’s lookin’ fer is da jewel. Hand’t ov’r or Slick here will deals wit yous person’ly.”
“I—I don’t have it—” She murmured softly, gripping her pouch even more tightly.
“Yeah?” slurred the gang-member, leaning over to breathe down hotly on her tear-stained face. Shaking more visibly now, the woman turned her head away from him, her eyes screwed shut. He looked her up and down, his eyes flashing as he caught sight of her white-knuckled grip on her leather handbag. “Yeah yous do. We saw yous snatch t’at- smooth escape plan, I mus’ ad’ it, but not discreet enuff.”
He suddenly ripped the pouch from her hands, and pulled away a few steps, rummaging through its contents before producing the familiar green gem. “Don’t have it, she says” he mocked, turning around to face the grouping of shadows behind him before regarding the woman again, tossing the jewel up and down in his left hand. “Yous know there are some consequences for lying. Boys?”
“Oh please no,” the woman cried eyes wide as Slick once again raised the gun to point directly at her. “I’m sorry! Please! Somebody, help!”
Suddenly, the weapon was knocked from Slick’s hand as a rather familiar bat-a-rang whistled through the air and pinned the gun to a nearby brick wall. Immediately, all the alley’s occupants turned to face a hulking shadow hovering over them.
“Batman!” The woman exclaimed, a surge of hope running coarsely through her veins.
The Dark Knight flipped, and landed tenderly on his feet, his body in a ready fighting stance.
“Batman,” echoed Slick, the gang-member nearest the woman. He narrowed his eyes and roughly pulled the frightened woman closer to him, ducking under the cloak of the dancing shadows in the far corner of the alley.
The remaining gang-members gripped for whatever weapons they had, as two of them, feeling slightly confident together, approached the Dark Knight. One brandished an over-sized club, while the other gripped a gleaming switchblade. Crooking a finger, Batman urged one of them to make their first move.
The thug with the club was the first to swing, rushing at the cloaked man with precise vengeance. Batman narrowly dodged the man’s furious and fast-coming blows, but knocked him over just as easily with a well-placed kick to the gut. The mugger stumbled backwards, and Batman moved forwards, swiftly slugging the man across the jaw left and right, before knocking him out-cold.
The gang-member with the switchblade rushed behind him next, and Batman was quick to avoid a full-on contact with the blade-wielder’s pointy-tipped weapon. However, the man’s desperate thrusts were rewarded as one of them slit a gash across the dark-knight’s exposed, right cheek.
Angry now, Batman punched and flipped his attacker over, the blade clattering noisily to the ground, followed by a loud ‘thump’ of its unconscious owner.
The remaining four thugs rushed at him all at once, two bearing chains, another a discarded pipe and the last his bare fists. He quickly disposed of the weapon-less thug, and one of the chain-bearers, before the sound of a gunshot rendered the brawl silent. A chain wound around his neck with it’s owner comfortably sitting on his back, Batman groaned underneath the weight, looking towards the source of the sound.
Coming from the shadows, a rather triumphant Slick emerged, a gun in one hand, and the other curled around the woman’s neck. She wreathed around in his grip, her own hands resting around her throat, trying to coax release. However, the cold feel of the gun’s cold front against the side of her head made her body go suddenly rigid and she gasped for breath. Slick only smiled cruelly.
“One more move, Batman, and the lady here gets it.” He looked down at her through narrow slits before smiling again, thinly. “How very unfortunate I do not like you much.”
The Dark Knight said nothing, but resisted struggling against the gang-member’s weight. Slick approached him, dragging the woman along and stopped in front of the seemingly, helpless Batman. The white slits that were the cloaked-man’s eyes narrowed as the gang member pulled the gun away from the woman and aimed at his chest. With a horrid ‘click’, the gun-fired and Batman felt his body go limp, and the ground came up fast to meet him.
“Noooo!!!”
***
When Batman awoke, it took him some time to realize that his body had been lying in a pool of his own blood. It was raining, and he faintly heard the sound of police sirens coursing through the streets. His entire body aching as he forced himself to get up, he looked around the alley.
It was empty, all except for the woman’s leather purse and her left shoe. There was blood everywhere.
Gritting his teeth, Batman bowed his head solemnly. “I’m so sorry….”
---- End of Prologue
I enjoy writing the dark and dreary, and the following is merely a prologue to a 'Dark Knight' story I'm planning to write. Although it's not really as emotional as I intended it to be the first time I sat down to write, I decided that perhaps letting the reader (you) see this installment from a broader point of view and perhaps make some interpretations for yourself...
In either case, happy reading!
-------------------
Lingering Darkness
PROLOGUE
She breathed- lungs aching and heaving for air as her desperate footsteps pounded through the deserted alley. It had been raining hours earlier; the pavement shone a slick, silver wet underneath the feeble light of the full moon. Muffled voices and shuffling of feet told her they were near- dangerously near. Clutching the small, leather pouch she carried with a firm grip, she whipped her head around to glance behind her.
A short distance away, rounding the corner, a series of silhouetted figures ran towards her. Gunshots rang through her ears, some striking the metal garbage cans lining the alley walls, others chipping bricks and smashing windows. She forced herself to speed up her pace, her lungs threatening to collapse as she pumped her arms and legs forward, pushing herself over the edge.
Now she could hear their voices more clearly, but she still blurred them out, recognizing only sworn curses and shouted commands. She dived into the next side alley, hoping to confuse them with a zigzag course through the alley mazes. Except this time, she zagged instead of zigged and wound up facing a dead-end alley.
Sweat dripping from her brow, her heart pounded and her breath came in short heaves. Running a trembling hand through her damp, blonde tendrils, she turned to face the approaching figures, eyes wide and mouth agape.
****
A cool breeze wafted through the gloomy streets, winding around buildings and smaller structures that had seen better days, but still stood inevitably proud Gothic monuments of the city’s shadowed demeanour. Above head, the night lurked in, its feverish blue-black colour inking over the skies and rousing its nightly protector, the full moon, to cast its feeble light on what was Gotham City.
Upon the highest city peak, the Gotham Clock Tower, The Batman stood rigidly, leaning tiredly against one of the gruesomely sculpted gargoyles that had made their home here. It had seemed like a long night- it usually took him only about two hours to crash a mafia party, take care of an arrest and escape without a scratch to show for it. However, this time it seemed to take hours to fight only a mere grouping of eight men- an easy task for the once, younger Dark Knight- and this time, he had much wounds to show for.
Placing a gloved hand on his injured shoulder, he winced at the slight jolt of pain the touch withdrew, and grimaced as he found the wound to still be bleeding like mad. His left side had a small gash penetrating through his rubber-armour, but in no better condition then his shoulder. Batman was almost relieved at the thought that once he would get home, a comfortable bed and treatments for his injuries waited to rest and nurture him.
However, a sudden piercing scream from the streets below caused him to look downwards. A few blocks from his perch, he spotted a blurb of several black dots approaching an almost invisible figure pinned against an alley wall. Dismissing his earlier, comforting thoughts, Batman pulled out his grapnel and hook, ready to swing in for the rescue.
****
The approaching shadows produced banshee-like grins as they closed in around their prey. Pressing her back against the alley wall, the woman let out another desperate shriek for help, followed by a helpless whimper at the sight of a glistening, black weapon pointed towards her.
“Shut your pie-hole, lady, or I will!” One of the aggravated shadows instructed coldly. From his black-gloved hand, he gripped a simple, black hand gun, his thumb threateningly massaging the trigger.
“Cool it, Slick.” Another said behind him, his hand reaching out to slowly lower his partner’s extended weapon arm. He then turned towards the deathly, pale woman, calmly approaching her with a wicked gleam in his pale, blue eyes. “Look lady, all we’s lookin’ fer is da jewel. Hand’t ov’r or Slick here will deals wit yous person’ly.”
“I—I don’t have it—” She murmured softly, gripping her pouch even more tightly.
“Yeah?” slurred the gang-member, leaning over to breathe down hotly on her tear-stained face. Shaking more visibly now, the woman turned her head away from him, her eyes screwed shut. He looked her up and down, his eyes flashing as he caught sight of her white-knuckled grip on her leather handbag. “Yeah yous do. We saw yous snatch t’at- smooth escape plan, I mus’ ad’ it, but not discreet enuff.”
He suddenly ripped the pouch from her hands, and pulled away a few steps, rummaging through its contents before producing the familiar green gem. “Don’t have it, she says” he mocked, turning around to face the grouping of shadows behind him before regarding the woman again, tossing the jewel up and down in his left hand. “Yous know there are some consequences for lying. Boys?”
“Oh please no,” the woman cried eyes wide as Slick once again raised the gun to point directly at her. “I’m sorry! Please! Somebody, help!”
Suddenly, the weapon was knocked from Slick’s hand as a rather familiar bat-a-rang whistled through the air and pinned the gun to a nearby brick wall. Immediately, all the alley’s occupants turned to face a hulking shadow hovering over them.
“Batman!” The woman exclaimed, a surge of hope running coarsely through her veins.
The Dark Knight flipped, and landed tenderly on his feet, his body in a ready fighting stance.
“Batman,” echoed Slick, the gang-member nearest the woman. He narrowed his eyes and roughly pulled the frightened woman closer to him, ducking under the cloak of the dancing shadows in the far corner of the alley.
The remaining gang-members gripped for whatever weapons they had, as two of them, feeling slightly confident together, approached the Dark Knight. One brandished an over-sized club, while the other gripped a gleaming switchblade. Crooking a finger, Batman urged one of them to make their first move.
The thug with the club was the first to swing, rushing at the cloaked man with precise vengeance. Batman narrowly dodged the man’s furious and fast-coming blows, but knocked him over just as easily with a well-placed kick to the gut. The mugger stumbled backwards, and Batman moved forwards, swiftly slugging the man across the jaw left and right, before knocking him out-cold.
The gang-member with the switchblade rushed behind him next, and Batman was quick to avoid a full-on contact with the blade-wielder’s pointy-tipped weapon. However, the man’s desperate thrusts were rewarded as one of them slit a gash across the dark-knight’s exposed, right cheek.
Angry now, Batman punched and flipped his attacker over, the blade clattering noisily to the ground, followed by a loud ‘thump’ of its unconscious owner.
The remaining four thugs rushed at him all at once, two bearing chains, another a discarded pipe and the last his bare fists. He quickly disposed of the weapon-less thug, and one of the chain-bearers, before the sound of a gunshot rendered the brawl silent. A chain wound around his neck with it’s owner comfortably sitting on his back, Batman groaned underneath the weight, looking towards the source of the sound.
Coming from the shadows, a rather triumphant Slick emerged, a gun in one hand, and the other curled around the woman’s neck. She wreathed around in his grip, her own hands resting around her throat, trying to coax release. However, the cold feel of the gun’s cold front against the side of her head made her body go suddenly rigid and she gasped for breath. Slick only smiled cruelly.
“One more move, Batman, and the lady here gets it.” He looked down at her through narrow slits before smiling again, thinly. “How very unfortunate I do not like you much.”
The Dark Knight said nothing, but resisted struggling against the gang-member’s weight. Slick approached him, dragging the woman along and stopped in front of the seemingly, helpless Batman. The white slits that were the cloaked-man’s eyes narrowed as the gang member pulled the gun away from the woman and aimed at his chest. With a horrid ‘click’, the gun-fired and Batman felt his body go limp, and the ground came up fast to meet him.
“Noooo!!!”
***
When Batman awoke, it took him some time to realize that his body had been lying in a pool of his own blood. It was raining, and he faintly heard the sound of police sirens coursing through the streets. His entire body aching as he forced himself to get up, he looked around the alley.
It was empty, all except for the woman’s leather purse and her left shoe. There was blood everywhere.
Gritting his teeth, Batman bowed his head solemnly. “I’m so sorry….”
---- End of Prologue