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Entry tags:
Fanfic. Predator
Predator (DCU, PG13, Helena Bertinelli. All recognizable characters and locations belong to their respective creators.) The night has it’s own predator.
PREDATOR
Beneath her Gotham City growled like a waiting predator.
It was familiar. Comforting.
She knew this dangerous town. She knew every corner, every street, every dark alley with a familiarity that was probably unhealthy.
She knew how to move from rooftop to rooftop, how to beat a man senseless and then wash the blood off her hands. Most nights she could sleep a dreamless sleep.
And then there were some nights when she couldn’t.
Some nights the blood rained down around her while she was helpless. Helpless to stop the death of good people. Helpless to stop the death of her family.
Cold, bloody death had set her on her path and now she surrounded herself with it.
They called her ruthless, and she was.
She was raised by those who were ruthless and she’d turned on them.
She’d turned on everyone like them.
Now she waited for her next target, her next strike.
It would come.
And she would be cold and detached from her actions, despite the hot and furious blood pumping through her veins.
And she would tell herself she was righteous.
PREDATOR
Beneath her Gotham City growled like a waiting predator.
It was familiar. Comforting.
She knew this dangerous town. She knew every corner, every street, every dark alley with a familiarity that was probably unhealthy.
She knew how to move from rooftop to rooftop, how to beat a man senseless and then wash the blood off her hands. Most nights she could sleep a dreamless sleep.
And then there were some nights when she couldn’t.
Some nights the blood rained down around her while she was helpless. Helpless to stop the death of good people. Helpless to stop the death of her family.
Cold, bloody death had set her on her path and now she surrounded herself with it.
They called her ruthless, and she was.
She was raised by those who were ruthless and she’d turned on them.
She’d turned on everyone like them.
Now she waited for her next target, her next strike.
It would come.
And she would be cold and detached from her actions, despite the hot and furious blood pumping through her veins.
And she would tell herself she was righteous.