Fateful Beginnings (Battinson)

I

"I couldn't turn in the assignment last week, I'm so sorry," You fumbled with your book and it slipped forward on the desk. Your professor wasn't too happy with you, this assignment was creating a piece of journalism about something in Gotham. You wanted to do something about the new election campaign, but you couldn't get any leads. Your professor, Dr. Vry, wasn't very happy about that. She had a soft spot for you, describing you as a journalistic prodigy. You didn't see it, and it didn't help that you couldn't even write your final piece when graduation was so soon. You'd done great in the intro courses, but now that the material was more complex...you were struggling. You had come from a sociology background, but had interest in learning journalism with your last few credits.

Dr. Vry gently shook her head at you. "Y/N, you're overthinking it. I'll extend it until the end of next week without point reduction. But after that it's out of my hands!" With that you thanked her, hurrying out of the class with your book tightly squeezed to your chest. Thank god, you thought. I can't fail out of a class in my last term.

That evening you holed up in your apartment per usual. You lazily texted your one friend here in the city, but she was out clubbing. Her name was Margaret, Mar for short. You'd met in a sociology course last year when you transferred, and she had been the only one kind enough to show you around the city. She was a social butterfly, however, so you and her kept in touch but it was only ever surface-level. You longed for more companionship, but knew you'd be leaving Gotham after graduation. It was too lonely here. Mar didn't usually respond but tonight, she did.

Y/N, get your ass to the club! I miss you.

You chuckled a little to yourself at the idea of getting all ready to be sweaty in a room full of strangers.
No thanks, have fun! You typed back.

Within a second she had disliked your message and sent another: You'll find more inspo here than in your studio. I'm sending a taxi, be ready in 10

You groaned and threw the phone down. Ugh. You were tired from a long day of classes, and didn't want to go get humped by random men. Men in Gotham were nasty, taking every opportunity to try and get something from a woman. You should have expected as much, but coming from your small town you were naive. You picked up your phone and looked back at the screen. More inspiration... she might be right. You looked around at your empty walls and the waning light outside, the sun rapidly falling giving way to a dark, rainy abyss. Fine, only for an hour. You reluctantly walked over to your closet to pick your outfit.

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You found yourself standing out under your apartment patio, shivering in your mini dress. You chose one that was black and sequined, with some shiny black faux leather heels to match. You had hurried and only put on lashes, lipgloss, and brow gel, because you thought your driver would be on time. You whipped out your phone and went onto Scypher, a Gotham-area social media. You didn't bother going on very often, only on the rare occasion Mar dragged you out into the city. There was a handy 'Crime' tab, which had up-to-the-minute updates on crime here. It seemed pretty empty, only some car vandalisms in the past hour. Hmm. You felt a little uneasy, it was unusually calm for a Friday evening. Maybe it's a good thing. You thought. Wouldn't want to go out during a crime surge. You looked up just as bright headlights pulled up. Your driver called out your name, and you slunk into the backseat.

The drive was quick, with clubs practically on every corner. Mar hadn't told you which one, so you weren't prepared when the car pulled up to the most elite club in the city. Your face went pale, and you started making excuses to the driver. "I'm so sorry, my friend must have given you wrong directions—"