Electric Flame

1.1

Grrrrr.

My stomach growled as I pranced along the dimly lit streets of Gotham City, my black knee-high boots splashing in the cold puddles and the rain pouring down hard, soaking my braided hair.

I need to hide from them, I thought.

I had been wanted for weeks now by the Justice League and their "babysitting club". And I'd made it very clear that I would not go down without a fight. They want me? Then they need to catch me. It's an impossible game of tag, and I'm the notorious MVP.

I ran into the nearest alley and crouched behind a dumpster. I clutched my side, the pain was sharp but bearable. I told Mother I would be home by midnight; however, I may have to break that promise.

My mother, though not biologically, was Catwoman. She always told me of her "adventures" with The Batman and his little bird as bedtime stories. They were quite fond of one another, so I'd heard. 

When I was much younger, I did something bad. Really bad. I never wished to speak of it for fear that people would treat me differently, like a murderer. All that's needed to know is she saved me. She's the reason I'm alive and well to this day. She was the one who raised me.

I heard quick footsteps pass by the alley that I was hiding in and wicked relief brushed through me, a dead weight being lifted off of my shoulders.

The coast is clear, I thought as I peeked my head out from behind the brick wall, inhaling and exhaling quickly and erratically. I was in shape, but it's not as easy as it looks running from a bunch of adults dressed up in tights and capes.

As soon as I saw right, I made a run for it and immediately felt a force push me down-- somebody walking in the other direction. I fell into a small puddle, splashing freezing cold water all over my clothes and the body fell on top of me with a thud.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" I exclaimed at the person as I pushed him off of me and stood up, wiping the mud off of my thighs.

"Sorry," the voice responded, but cut off his sentence immediately as they got up to face me.

I looked up to see a young man around the same age as me with crystal blue irises that glistened brightly in the darkest of streets, his shaggy hair blacker than any shadow covering his forehead. Our eyes met, but all I could do was stare.

He wore a gray suit. An actual suit-- tie and everything down to the polished brown shoes. This kid wore a real suit while walking down these very streets. And none of the homeless folk lining the gutters dared to even look at him. They disregarded him entirely like a student to a wooden number two pencil.

Who does he think he is? He's lucky he hasn't been mugged... yet, I pondered. Maybe I could do the honors. A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

"Master Dick, shall we get going?" asked an older man with graying hair and a silver mustache as he cleared his throat. The man stood behind him, though less than a few inches taller than the boy. Me, on the other hand, looked like a mouse beside a giraffe compared to him.

Dick? What kind of a name is that? I thought, getting lost in my mind. Mother is right. Generations just get weirder.

"Yes, Alfred," said the boy as he broke eye contact with me to look up to the man-- butler, I assumed. The old man raised an eyebrow at him and the boy responded, "Oh yeah, um..."

His watch was beeping, a bright red light blinding me every two seconds-- a rich people problem, I guessed. Dick looked down at his wrist. I tried to back away slowly as Mother had taught me to do in any uncomfortable situation, but my movement was halted by those beautiful blue eyes.