Gotham Mouse, Paris Bug

Chapter 3

A man tightened his grip on the handle of a pistol, his stark red hair flattened messily under a cap. His name was unimportant, his face was average and as dirtied like his conscience.

"Your money or your life sounds simple enough doesn't it," The man grinned, dark eyes hidden behind cheap sunglasses. "Come on, don't be a hero."

Perhaps the man got lucky, maybe he was unlucky. Maybe a bit of both.

If someone from the Batfamily had found him, he would have found himself in jail, a little roughed up, but largely unharmed. Unless it was Red Hood, or perhaps the newest Robin. Of course, anyone who committed a crime in Gotham had to consider the possibility of one of the bats hauling them to jail, or at the least, tying them to a pole and calling the police. There were a few other vigilantes, but no one as feared.

But it was not a bat who found him.

"Yeah, that's my job."

The man had barely turned around before black boots smashed into his hip, sending the gun flying and his side into the cold pavement below. A small pile of broken beer bottles stabbed into his thigh and a guttural scream tore from his lips. The glass had been skewered through his leg, several fragments almost buried in it.

His prior victim ran off, and the light humming from behind him as his attacker leisurely skipped over to him echoed in the alleyway. He was flipped onto his back swiftly, the boot pressing his back to the concrete as the attacker bound his wrists with a zip tie.

"You'll need stitches, but if you try to pull the glass out you may bleed out before you get the chance," And with that, he was flipped over, and leaned sitting against the wall.

The man looked up at her, disbelief clouding his features.

Before him stood the woman, grey bodysuit, with deep magenta detailing, black boots gloves, and neck. What surprised him most was that, despite being ridiculously buff, the woman was really not intimidating. She had large baby blue eyes and didn't look to be more than 5'5. "You gotta be fucking kidding me, whatsit, bring your superbrat to work day?"

She smirked dangerously over her shoulder as she pressed something on her... jump rope. "I'm not a bat, nice try though."

Suddenly he heard sirens approaching them, she walked over, uncoiling her jump rope. She crouched down, eyes suddenly piercing. "I'm not entirely sure if the glass in your leg will damage you permanently or not, but I hope it stops you from making any more stupid decisions like that," And with that, she stood, flinging her jump rope over onto the fire escape and her body whipped up after it.

The man blinked uncertainly, he had passes high school physics and surely that wasn't allowed.

Either way, Mousy was gone, and the man found himself tied in front of the police with a crippling injury in his leg. He would live easily, but the glass severed some of his tendons and he would be tried and convicted for third-degree robbery and sentenced to three years in prison. He never touched a gun again and walked with a limp. He would forever remember the indifference in her blue eyes as she purposefully sent him into a small pile of glass.

He begrudgingly would accept that he had deserved it in some twisted way.