Wisterian Widow

PRPLOGUE

The night the Graysons fell was the first ever tragedy to ever strike the young girl. She was four at the time, barely at the age to understand what it meant for someone to be dead. She had no idea she'd never speak to her parents again or how she'd forever be waiting to be tucked to sleep by her father whilst her mother sang her a lullaby. She watched from the edge of the tent as her older brother ran towards their parents, tears rolling down his cheeks one after another. 

People began to scream and push past the young girl at the exit making her cover her ears as their selfishness caused her to waddle side to side until some man from behind was the one. Pushing past her the well man in a fancy suit knocked her to the ground with her hair sprawled around her babied face as she stared at the streaks of red and white above her in a daze. Thankfully the stampede of the crowd had mostly already fled the crime scene, but that didn't stop whoever it was from stepping on her hand as they ran, causing an excruciating pain to scatter up her arm like spiders crawling up her skin. A blood curling scream escaped her lips as the four year old desperately clutched onto her hand, tears of her own now pooling beneath her lids.

She wanted to sob and beg for her mother to kiss her hand better, yet they hadn't moved an inch  from her place on the ground. Her curiosity was enough to keep her quiet as she watched people in dark uniform place a white blanket over them, that soon turned a dark crimson from her parents blood. Her mind wandered off, questioning why they were tucking them into bed into the centre of the tent grounds, but no one else seemed to question it, but go along with it wearing frowns and and filling the tent with whispers. 

Holding her hand to her chest, the young girl stepped up and walked out towards her brother, about to call out to him when all of a sudden the feeling of a gloved hand was smacked over her mouth roughly, sending her mind into instinct to the point she was thrashing around in his iron grip. She called out to her brother, begging him to turn around from the man he was speaking to- the one who also happened to have pushed her down- and help her, but just as it happened, her cries fell on deaf ears.

Small feet were lifted from the grass floor as she was placed on the mysterious mans shoulder like a sack of potato's. The girls tiny hands were in loose fists as she hit the mans back over and over again, subtly watching the dying, yellow specs of grass move beneath the mans fancy shoes, her head went up and down with every step he took. Her long, brown hair kept sweeping over her eyes, forcing her to blink furiously to clear the stinging that it left behind.

Lifting her head up, and shaking her hair to clear her view, the four year old watched as the distance grew between her and Dick. Watched as her home shrunk and blurred through unshed tears. Her arms had grown tired and she so desperately wanted to sink into her fathers arms as bounced her on his lap, calm her buzzing nerves, as he spoke soothing words to convince her how the monsters beneath her bed wouldn't hurt her.

Soon enough the sliding door of a black van opened up, revealing another man who also looked burly, but much more than the man who'd carried her there. He wore a black suit with a gold chain falling from the pocket, creating a bridge to the pocket watch he held. A reds handkerchief was neatly folded in his pockets. Red tie stood out as his shirt, shoes, blazer and trouser were all a dark black that blended into the leather seats of the van. Not a word was spoken as the girl was thrown into the van, landing harshly in the space between the opposing seats. Creepy, new man, pulled back his black blazer, revealing multiple knives, some being the size of her pinky whilst others the size of her forearm. Her skin paled as she remembered the time she cut herself with a knife from one of the knife throwers at the circus and how bad it felt.

She drew away from the metallic objects, crawling back like a crab until her back hit the seats, sweat making her hands clammy as she watched him go into a hidden pocket the blazer had, pulling out a syringe with a murky green liquid inside. 

Without a second thought her mouth opened, about to question what medicine the man was about to give her when he grabbed her hair and pulled her forward, injecting the serum into her neck. The girl's body fell limp in the van as a searing flare spread though her blood stream, feeling like a scolding hot iron was being placed all over her skin. She wanted to scream, hoping it would take the pain away, but against her own control nothing came from her shaking form, not even a movement of her mouth. The man who had taken her entered the vehicle, taking a seat in the drivers position and removing the shades over his eyes.

~~~

By now, Commissioner Gordon was looking for the little sister Dick said he had, he'd told a few officers to keep a look out but everywhere they searched came up to be a dead end. Dick was in hysterics, he'd just lost his parents now his sister was missing? Red, blood shot eyes and laboured breathes  gave everything he was feeling away. Now Bruce Wayne wasn't someone who was very good with comforting people, but he tried. And by that I mean he placed a hand on the sobbing boy's shoulder, turning his attention away and carefully watching Jim Gordon boss around the GCPD for a missing four year old.

~~~

Silence continued after ten minutes of the driving, something they've become accustomed to after years of the very same thing happening. "So." The driver spoke, one hand on the wheel and the other laying carelessly on his lap. "That's the girl?"

"Thats her." Replied the man from the back seat, eyes squinting to watch the girl with curiosity, "Now lets see if the what the scientists said about you back in the Red Room are true,  Marlowe Grayson."

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