Bluejay: The Protégé of Black Canary

Gotham City Hospital

I hadn't moved from my spot on the floor until the sun had began filtering through the windows. Sunlight meant safety. But it also meant there were less places to hide.

Within a few minutes I was up and ready to go. I checked the tight wrapping around my leg, before taking Advil to help the throbbing pain. I rolled up my sleeping bag and put it on the shelf in the closet, and then piled everything up all my supplies and shoved them back in the cabinet. I did another sweep of the apartment before I decided it was time to leave.

I unlocked the window with my gun in hand, and made a sweep of the area with my finger poised on the trigger. My ears strained for any sounds. I finally stepped out of my apartment and closed the window behind me.

Before I left, I used a paper towel soaked with bleach to wipe away any flecks of blood I'd left on the fire escape. No one could know I'd been here. I tucked my gun in my waistband and made sure the straps of my backpack were tight against my body. Okay. I had to move fast now.

I carefully lowered myself off the dumpster edge using my hands and my good leg. I tried to set myself gently on the ground, but a shock of pain still ran up my leg. I crept to the edge of the alley and peered over the corner. The steady city traffic played out in front of my eyes, much like it always had every day like nothing had happened.

I took heavy breaths in an effort to calm myself. In, and out. In, and out.

I merged with the flowing traffic, and just like that I was on my way to the hospital. The burning pain from this morning returned and erupted like fire on my calf. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. I couldn't draw attention to myself. No doubt Bruno was still looking for me. The only thing I could do was to stay low and hope I made it to George before Bruno found me.

The sun began to peak between the many skyscrapers of the city, the warm beams filtering through the polluted air. The tallest skyscraper in Gotham City, Wayne Enterprises, stretched a long shadow down the entire length of the street for as long as I could see it. I exhaled and checked my watch.

Okay. You can do this. Loosen your shoulders! Relax your hands! Walk slower! Breathe evenly! The merciless critique in my head did little to help me appear more at ease, but I tried to listen to my instincts.

This morning, I had ditched the black get-up and went with some casual clothes. I wore one of my dad's faded baseball caps over my head and left my sandy blonde hair down to cover my face. I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, and kept myself in the middle of the flowing crowd.

But I guess it wasn't that hard to blend in. Gotham was one of the sketchiest cities, like ever. To someone who had grown up here, I probably looked like no one of consequence. My finger tapped nervously against my thigh and I tried to appear relaxed. I wasn't the only one who could read body language. I didn't want to give anything away, or hint to anyone that I was anxious.

I silently kept track of the steady rhythm of footsteps around me. I listened for irregularities, or any new pairs of footsteps that joined the symphony I was trying to pick apart. My grip tightened on the backpack straps I was clenching. Occasionally I'd check behind my shoulder and scan for recognizable faces- but not too often. I noticed every shift in a person's rhythm, or every brief glance someone sent my way. My knuckles were white. I noticed this and forced myself to loosen my hold.

A man walking next to me accidentally bumped my shoulder, and my heart leapt in my throat. I jumped away and my hand instantly closed around the handle of my gun in my waistband. Without noticing my reaction, he gave me a muttered apology, checked his watch, and hurried on.

I swallowed the painful lump in my throat and reluctantly forced myself to release my hold on the gun. I took a cautious look around and adjusted my hat. The sweatband of the cap I was wearing began to stick uncomfortably to my sweaty forehead.