Batman and Sparrow

1

Gotham city bank is busy, with a line that extends to nearly reach the door.
A young girl, looking no older than ten, stands in this line holding her father's hand. The girl's hair was a bright red color; dull curls and waves down the length of it, reaching her back. She had an abnormally colored pair of eyes, both a deep violet color. She wears a long sleeved black dress, with sleeves that flair out a bit at the wrist. Her parents, however, looked nothing like her. The mother was a tall woman, with tan skin and dark brown hair, brown eyes. The father had tanned skin as well, spiked black hair, and green eyes.
The girl swings her free arm back and forth in a care free manor, humming lightly to herself.
She stares at the ceiling, counting the dots that are seemingly splattered across the ceiling tiles, in an effort to pass time and relieve her boredom: The line just seemed stagnant. Never moving, no matter how long one was to stand and wait.
34, 35, 36, 37. . .
The girl counts to herself, trying to forget how painfully slow the line is moving.
44, 45, 46, 47. . .

Her train of thought was lost when loud rapid gunfire sounded through the room, breaking her concentration.
The girl jumps slightly, and looks around frantically for the source of the noise.
Panic swept through the room, screams echoing throughout the atmosphere, terror filling the air.
"Everybody shut up! No sudden moves!!" A scratchy male voice sounds.
Several men stand with various assult riffles and semi automatics stand in the middle of the room.
A security guard pulls a gun from his holster in defiance. A valient effort, but he is nearly immediately shot down.
"Or else THAT happens!" The man who yelled previously says, as he gestures to the blood splattered wall beside the deseaced security guard.
The girls father pulls her close to him. "Stay close girls. . ." He says softly.
"Now everyone line up against that wall over there, and sit the FUCK down!" The man who appears to be in charge yells in a demanding manor.
As the civilians slowly move to comply, the young girl shakes lightly, thinking to herself.
'Why? Why is this happening?'
Her father sits to the left of her, mother to the right.
A man paces back in forth in front of the row of people, occasionally kicking at somone who is acting a bit too fidgity for his liking.

Several people cry; a few pray in hopes that it would aid them in getting out alive; most silently accept the situation, knowing any wrong move could result in them meeting a fate similar to the security guard.
The young girl sits with her head down, squeezing her father's hand in fear, unsure of what is to come next.
The constant pacing continues for ten minutes. Every second that passes, the hostages begin to feel more and more nervous.
In the distance, a cup of pens is knocked from a desk, falling to the floor with a bit of a clatter. The man turns his head away to glance at it for only a few seconds.
The girl's father seizes this opritunity to get up and grab the mans gun. "Hey- let go you son of a. . ." There's a struggle, a struggle that is very short lived. One of the other robbers sees the situation.
He takes aim.
Click.
Boom.
The young girl stares, wide eyed in horrer as her father's faceless corpse falls to the floor with a thud. Her whole body begins to shake intensely, as she comes to the realization that she is in fact covered from head to toe in her father's blood. . . Small peices of brain matter clinging to her clothing.
"A. . . An. . ."
The mother just rips one of her heels from her foot in anger. "YOU BASTARD" she gets up, abruptly thrusting the shoe.
"What-AGH!" The man begins to cough up blood, turning his gun to press the barrel to the womans stomach.
The sound of a shot gun rings out. More blood is splattered in the young girl's face, as well as peices of flesh and organs.
She draws in a shuddery breath, covering her mouth. "N. . . No. . . Not. . . Not again. . ."

The room begins to slowly fill with smoke. "The fuck is going on?" One man says, looking around in confusion.
"Dumbass, it's the bat! Get your guns ready!"
The smoke begins to thicken, hindering vision. Gunfire and pained grunts can be heard in the room.
"Where are you!?" One of the men yells. Then, there's a loud thud.