Veroe
Maestro/Truthseeker
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2009
- Posts
- 62,533
((Closed for Myself and EroticLiteracy))
IC: Katelyn Bishop
It was her birthday again. She never celebrated it anymore-not since she was very little. She hated her birthday. It was always a reminder of what she'd lost.
It was evening in Gotham City now. An hour or two more it would not be safe for even her-a Gotham City police detective-well when she was not bogusly suspended that was.
She stood on the Corner of Franklin and Thirty-eighth. One of the worst neighborhoods in the city. The historic Spade theater-the place of her last happy memory with her parents had been-had been closed down for years. After that night fewer and fewer people showed up and the decline of the neighborhood around the theater slipped further into the crime-riddled cesspit it was now.
Her birthday-one night that ruined everything for everybody.
Kate put her hands in her leather jacket and stared at the place her dad's car had been parked that night. She sighed. She hated her birthday. She hated being reminded of what happened here that night. Yet she kept coming here every year.
A Limousine drove past. She had seen it do that last year too. It was the first time she had realized Gotham's forgotten son, Bruce Wayne had returned after years of people thinking he'd died or just run off somewhere off the face of the planet. She saw the limo stop and the elderly driver open the door. A young and handsome man climbed out and for a moment she saw in his eyes...something...something familiar...but it was just a moment and the Bruce Wayne she read about in sensational supermarket rags.
She had not encroached upon his time in that alley he walked into now when he'd showed up last year out of respect. That was before a year after disgusting wasteful story after story was published about his behavior in the year since he'd come back from the dead. It was baffling to her, like it was the only thing he wanted was for the world to see how spoiled rotten and terrible he was.
So she walked down the street past the theater and towards the alley the Limo was parked at. "Bruce Wayne."
The elderly chauffeur stepped in her way.
"May I help you miss," The man asked.
"Yeah, you're Alfred right? You can get out of my way," She told him, "I have something to say to your boss."
That was when the so-called prince of Gotham came out of the alley, and for a second she saw that look in his eyes that did not jive with the irresponsible playboy she read of in the tabloids. Then it was gone again.
She straightened up at his words and glared to him, "I know what happened to you in this alley, and I can't understand you now. Anyone who went through what you did should be trying with everything they have to make sure nothing like this will ever happen to anyone else ever again not wasting their life so disgracefully."
She turned to leave, "That's all I wanted to say, Mr. Wayne. Have a good waste of a life."
IC: Katelyn Bishop
It was her birthday again. She never celebrated it anymore-not since she was very little. She hated her birthday. It was always a reminder of what she'd lost.
It was evening in Gotham City now. An hour or two more it would not be safe for even her-a Gotham City police detective-well when she was not bogusly suspended that was.
She stood on the Corner of Franklin and Thirty-eighth. One of the worst neighborhoods in the city. The historic Spade theater-the place of her last happy memory with her parents had been-had been closed down for years. After that night fewer and fewer people showed up and the decline of the neighborhood around the theater slipped further into the crime-riddled cesspit it was now.
Her birthday-one night that ruined everything for everybody.
Kate put her hands in her leather jacket and stared at the place her dad's car had been parked that night. She sighed. She hated her birthday. She hated being reminded of what happened here that night. Yet she kept coming here every year.
A Limousine drove past. She had seen it do that last year too. It was the first time she had realized Gotham's forgotten son, Bruce Wayne had returned after years of people thinking he'd died or just run off somewhere off the face of the planet. She saw the limo stop and the elderly driver open the door. A young and handsome man climbed out and for a moment she saw in his eyes...something...something familiar...but it was just a moment and the Bruce Wayne she read about in sensational supermarket rags.
She had not encroached upon his time in that alley he walked into now when he'd showed up last year out of respect. That was before a year after disgusting wasteful story after story was published about his behavior in the year since he'd come back from the dead. It was baffling to her, like it was the only thing he wanted was for the world to see how spoiled rotten and terrible he was.
So she walked down the street past the theater and towards the alley the Limo was parked at. "Bruce Wayne."
The elderly chauffeur stepped in her way.
"May I help you miss," The man asked.
"Yeah, you're Alfred right? You can get out of my way," She told him, "I have something to say to your boss."
That was when the so-called prince of Gotham came out of the alley, and for a second she saw that look in his eyes that did not jive with the irresponsible playboy she read of in the tabloids. Then it was gone again.
She straightened up at his words and glared to him, "I know what happened to you in this alley, and I can't understand you now. Anyone who went through what you did should be trying with everything they have to make sure nothing like this will ever happen to anyone else ever again not wasting their life so disgracefully."
She turned to leave, "That's all I wanted to say, Mr. Wayne. Have a good waste of a life."