What Doesn't Kill You

“We have got to stop running into each other like this,” he said. “I think it might be a sign.”

I sneered. I need to gain some weight. Seriously, I got pushed into the Gotham bank. I was walking by and I got pushed in! I’m usually not even awake at this time. During the day, I usually crash at some business man’s apartment. He goes to work all day, leaves his house empty, I economize.

“Look, Im not trying to get in your way or stalk you, I can’t say the same about you, though. Just let me be.”

He smiled. He seems to do that a lot. I rolled my eyes. They landed on people. Tied up. On the ground. Shit… he’s robbing the place. He laughed when he realized I just noticed what he was doing.

“See, now you can’t go anywhere.”

“It’s not like I’m going running to the pigs after this!” I yelled at him. “I just want to get home and get some sleep.” He surveyed me. I need to bring a change of clothes on me.

Tight black skinny jeans, just stretchable enough to allow me nice flexibility. A tight black long-sleeved shirt, a little low cut, just in case my boobs can get me out of a situation my knives or my mouth can’t. Knives, speaking of which, hidden, well, actually very visible if you look closely, through out the outfit. My hair is pulled back tightly, and I’ve got on enough eyeliner that you wouldn’t remember my eye color after seeing me.

At night, the point is, you don’t remember what I look like. During the day, after the light is up, you can see more distinctive features.

“The pigs? Honestly. Are the kids still calling them that these days?” I shrugged. “Look, how about we make a deal. You scratch my back, I scratch yours?”

I eyed him, suspiciously. “How does it go?”

“Well, I need someone to get in there,” he said, pointing to a window above a safe. It’d been blown out. “Things went a little wrong with that plan. You open it from inside, and we split the money, fifty-fifty.”

With that kind of money, I could… well, the possibilities are endless. It could help my little campaign to end crime, though. To defeat the evil that is Gotham’s finest. I nodded, and looked around. “Are you gonna shoot me, too?”

He smiled. “That’s a risk you’ll have to take.”

I smiled back, took a step forward, and pulled a knife to his neck. “I’ll ask you again. Are you going to shoot me, to?” I asked through my teeth.

He laughed. “I promise I won’t.”

I pulled back, put the knife away, and took a running start towards the high window. I pulled myself up, and barely managed to slip through. Now I know why he needed me.

“From the inside of these things, there’s usually a switch to open it up. It only works once, though, and then the bank has to reset it, in case of an emergency, or something. So we have to do it right the first time. On the count of three, you press the red button on the left of the vault door, then spin the handle to the right. Okay?”

“Yeah,” I called out.

“One. Two. Three.” I pressed the button and spun the handle.

The door swung open. “Did you miss me?” he asked me, then laughed. I rolled my eyes and propped the door open. We carried all of the money to the back of his truck. On the last trip back, there was two bags left. He took the lighter one and I struggled to pick up the heavy one.

“So, do you think you could just—“ when I turned around, he’d already walked out, and he was kicking the door shut with his foot.

He laughed when he saw my expression. I dropped the bag and ran to the door. “Hey don’t you close that you bastard!” It was too late.

I tried pressing the button. Damn it, he was right. I looked up at the window, then back at the wall. It was really short to run and jump, but it was worth a shot. It took me three times to get out, and by the time I climbed through hole, much less gracefully, this time around, mind you, he’d already gone.

“Bastard. Which way did he go?” I asked all the people. They all just stared at me blankly. “Is anyone going to answer me?” I asked. I sighed, threw a knife in the chest of a particularly annoying looking man, and walked out. He looked like the kind of asshole who would rat me out, or something.

I looked out at the traffic. Deciding it was a hopeless battle, I started walking home, a little extra cash weighing down my pockets, for some sleep.

I’ll get him back.

He can be… number three on my list.