Raven

I stare at myself in the long mirror next to my dresser. I feel my face with my fingers, careful not to smudge the make up I’ve applied. My eyes are bright and staring, green and clever. I’ve been told they’re seductive but they don’t know that behind these eyes lie ideas and plots of murders, robberies and assassinations.

I smooth down my black pencil skirt that fits perfectly around my slim athletic figure, my white blouse chinches just right at the waist, emphasizing my hips and breast. I’m beautiful and I know it.

I smile at my reflection and for a moment behind my lawyer exterior I see the glimpse of madness that lies beneath it all. This makes me smile wider. Madness is as madness does.

I hum to myself as I grab my bag and folder, strutting out of my large expensive apartment. I believe that everyone is a little mad, I prefer to let it show. As Raven of course.

My hands twitch instinctively and that itch to kill rushes through me. For a moment I almost reach for the knife kept inside my handbag, aching to watch the scarlet flow of blood seep like a slow rushing river out of a person’s throat.

But not yet.
Not yet.

I hail a taxi, ignoring the wolf whistle I receive from a passing man. I smirk to myself, if he knew the things I could do to him. I’d make him scream, scream with pain, agony, misery…certainly not from pleasure.

I refrain from giggling in excitement at all the prospective murders I am planning and allow a calm composure to fall over myself. I am Sparrow today. Sparrow King, the lawyer…the killer, the criminal…

I throw a fifty at the cab driver, not bothering to wait for change and step out of the vehicle. I stand on the busy sidewalk, ignoring the people bustling people hurrying past. Always in a hurry these people. Never look, never watch. They deserve to die. They’ve all done bad things. Maybe I’m not mad, maybe I’m the normal one.

I smile dreamily, and stare at the building in front of me. It’s quite impressive and immediately scan it. The stonework is a smooth marble like surface, but could be easy to scale if possible. Twenty-two stories, cameras on the outside doors, two doormen. Nice.

No-body notices my scan, too busy with their own lives. But I’m quick and smooth. A criminal mastermind.

The doorman on the left smiles at me as I enter, not asking for a name or business card. No wonder this is the city for crime. Lax security leaves more opportunity for us…silly silly silly.

“Sparrow King?”

I turn as I hear my name and smile at the man approaching me. He was the man that employed me as lawyer of Wayne Enterprises. His name is Mr. Dempsey, Barry Dempsey. I wonder if his wife knows he cheats on her.

I keep in laughter, scolding myself. I have been raven far too long. It’s hard to resort back to silly little Sparrow, the good for nothing pretty lawyer. All I need to do is look pretty and bat my lashes. They trust me, and then I do my investigations.

Barry leads me to the elevator and Barry doesn’t seem to take notice of my quiet mouth. He must believe I’m nervous but I’m not really. I’ve done this all before…but I intend to stay longer in Gotham. It’s exciting and interesting. Full with opportunities.

“Your office is several doors away from mine,” he speaks loudly, interrupting my thoughts. I frown, I don’t like being interrupted.

I nod and fake a sweet smile, “thank you Mr. Dempsey.”

He smiles, his ears going red, “call me Barry…now if you need anything let me know.”

I smile gratefully as he leaves me to get settled in my office. I open the door and walk inside, instantly feeling at home in the pale beige room. The carpet is a pearly white and I slip off my heels, allowing myself to sink my feet into the plush fabric. Fancy, I could certainly work comfortably late here.

My desk is made of clear glass, and is situated by the window. We’re on the nineteenth floor. My favourite number.

I press myself to the window, my palms sticking to the glass and look down at the street below, the cars and people are tiny dots. I close my eyes, imagining the window giving way and falling. My body would arc, my hair shimmer outwards like a halo. I’d fall amongst the tiny splinters of glass. It would be quite beautiful…

I sit myself down, stretching in my chair and then spinning around a few times. When I’ve had a satisfactory head rush, I settle and pull out the files placed on the top by the computer.

I examine the case files, frowning.
Paul Dawson, age 34, unpaid taxes.
Liam Beauton, age 50, fraud and taxes.
Janine Dowley, age 29, social welfare fraud.

How boring!
I imagine a lawyer looking at my file if I was ever caught again and this time identified: Sparrow King, age 23, murder, robbery, fraud, kidnapping, police assault…the list would go on…

I laugh, what fun!

I soon grow bored and walk out to the coffee machine, mixing myself a bad cup of cappuccino. They should do something about that coffee machine. There’s nothing worse than bad coffee.

I freeze when the voice of Barry and several other males drift from around the corner. I turn to go back to my office, but the stupid man sees me and calls out;
“Ah, Miss King! Please I’d like you to meet some people.”

I turn towards them and smile, walking slowly up to the men;

“This is Mr. Fox and Mr Wayne.”

I smile and shake the hand of the older man, standing straight and proud in front of me. I study him, he looks intelligent, efficient…I should tread carefully here.

I turn to the other man who is studying me, as I studied his friend. I blink, and reach out my hand for him to shake but instead he takes it in his and brings it to his lips, kissing my skin softly and seductively. His eyes never leave mine and I shiver with a strange excitement.

“Pleasure to meet you,” his voice is deep, manly, the way I like it, the way….Sparrow likes it.

I pout my lips slightly, knowing how to work this man, “Mr Wayne? As in the infamous Bruce Wayne?”

The other men walk away, knowing that this conversation with the richest man in Gotham is becoming private.

Mr Wayne smiles and leans against the wall, “maybe I am…”

I chuckle, “So…you’re my boss?”

Mr Wayne smiles slowly and I can see the invitation in his eyes. He wants me.

He is very good looking, with beautiful cheekbones, a full mouth and a strong jaw. His eyes are dark and intense, steady and quiet. They don’t flicker with madness the way mine do.

I walk away from him, knowing how to play the game, “I have work to do Mr Wayne. I’ll see you again I hope.”

“Call me Bruce, please?” he asks.

I turn as I reach my door, leaning against the door frame, “goodbye…Bruce.” I allow his name to linger in my mouth, rolling it around my tongue, tasting it, testing it.

I close the door as he still watches me, lust clouding his eyes and I smile to myself, switching on the news. My work…

“Gotham Press can report that The Joker has escaped for a multiple time from the Arkham Asylum. If you see sight of this dangerous criminal, do not approach him, please call the hotline at…”

I froze at the word Arkham, my whole body shuddering and flinching. What a horrible place. I barely escaped the last time.

My eyes fixed on the mug shot that appeared on the screen. The man gazed at the camera wildly, his eyes rotating with madness. His face was painted white, his lips red. Scars stretched on either side of his mouth creating an obscene smile. My hand reached out to trace the shape of it on the screen.
The Joker…

I must find him…