Genocide (Nightwing x OC)

Arrested

August 11

Models walked down the runway, each in a design made by me. Nothing had happened yet, they were all flawless and so were the looks. But I knew when it was my turn to walk out and say a few words, that's when shit would go downhill.

"Ms. Brook, it's your turn"

I was handed a microphone and once the last model was offstage I went on. Past the curtain I couldn't see anything, I was mostly blinded by the light, but I could sense something was wrong. There were loud stomps coming towards the stage, men in armour. There were some screams in the audience as the police came and surrounded me.

"Everyone remain calm, it's alright, they aren't going to hurt you. I just want to say thank you for coming out and that this, very well may be, my last show. The clothing will be put on sale not long after tonight, and the money from that will go to charity"

They applauded a little, probably shocked to see me still surrounded by the police. Someone landed in front of me, jumping down from the ceiling. Nightwing was in the circle with me.

"You understand why we're here?" He asks.

I nod, turning off the microphone. I shoved it into his chest then when he took it I put both my hands up in surrender. I stared at his mask as the men started moving. One officer cuffed my hands behind my back, another put an inhibitor collar around my neck. That would cancel out my powers, making me powerless.

"You are under arrest for murder and..."

The voices trailed off and everything passed by in a blur. Me being brought outside and shoved into the back of a van, lights of paparazzi flashing in my eyes, the lights of the city passing by in the dark night, the dark knight following above us from the sky.

We arrived and I went through a process, then I was given my own cell. They had made me put on an orange jumpsuit, but I kept the top half down, wrapping the sleeves around my waist. It was warm and the tank top was better than the long sleeve fabric.

"You're not even behind bars yet and you're already receiving mail," a guard said, handing me an envelope before he shoved me into the cell with a laugh.

The door closed and I was left alone in a mostly empty cell. I sat on the bed that was there, leaning my back against the cement wall. I ripped open the envelope, crumpling it up and tossing it onto the floor after pulling out the letter that was inside.

Dear Genocide,

It read.

You knew this was going to happen. Hell, I knew this was going to happen. I made it happen. It wasn't that boyfriend of yours who gave the tip to the police. But this shows me how much you are willing to do to save yourself.

Nothing.

So, because you didn't even put up a fight trying not to be sent to prison, I've got a new task for you. Break out.

PS: you might want to make it fast, unless you want to lose the bird brain.

I looked at the letter for a second then flipped it over, looking at the other side, hoping there was more information or something. I knew it was from the Joker, that was easy to tell, it was hard to miss when your name had been written in red ink.

PPS: don't toss the picture, it may be the last time you see him.

I crumpled up the letter, throwing it at the wall opposite me. Then I scrambled to the floor where I tossed the envelope, flattening it out. I pulled out a picture, trying to flatten it out so I could see the details better, considering I had balled it up.

It was Nightwing, he was tied up to a wooden chair in a dark room with only a single light hanging above him. His hair was messed up, his mask looked like it was about to fall off, and his suit looked mildly ripped up. His face was the worst part. Blood dripped from his mouth, there was a long cut on his cheek and forehead, I could see a bit of a bruise forming from under his mask.

There was something written on the back of the picture, because why would Joker leave something blank when he could fill it in with the words that could drive you crazy?

What do you say? Shall I break you out so you can come and save him? Obviously you know there will be some terms. Or will you break yourself out and rescue him without any help, earning zero conditions from me?

Yes or No

I sighed and removed one of the springs from my bed, using it to prick my finger and draw blood. My eyes darted back and forth between the Yes and No for a minute, until I finally decided what I would do.

I made an X out of blood then tucked the photo back into the envelope, calling over the same guard who gave it to me to come take it. He had a smirk on his face, saying he would get it to the Joker no problem.