Princess limped down the lamp lit street in her thigh high black leather boots. Her dark brown hair in a ponytail high on the back of her head swayed with each gimp. She had just been thrown from a car. Again. It had to be the third time this week. She had landed on her knees and hands scrapping them not having a sufficient amount of clothing on. Just a black mini skirt that barely covered anything and a red spaghetti strap shirt. She sighed. It had been the same man each and every time. That was his usual farewell; throw her from his moving vehicle over a block from where she had to return to. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered with him, but then she remembers. He pays and she was not allowed to refuse a job. So goes the life of a prostitute. Well, at least her life. Compared to her, the other prostitutes that walked the streets were lucky, they had some freedom. She did not. She had been forced on the streets at an early age. Her prick of a father had owed the mob money. Instead paying them off, he gave him her to work off the debt. The prick had his son and could care less what happened to her.

That had been five years ago, and here she was, limping down the deserted street to her spot. Her dirty dingy spot in the Narrows. She was not considered good enough or good looking enough to go into the higher end parts of Gotham. So, she was forced to stay in the worst neighborhood. It was only logical that the mob would keep her in the lowliest of low. That way she could not earn the sufficient amount of money to expunge the prick's debt and would be forever enslaved to them. That's all she was a slave. Her lot in life. It was not a lot, but it was her life. The only life she now knew.

Ironic how her nickname was Princess. Princesses were supposed to have slaves, not be one. The nickname had not been her choice, but that of Croc's. He had dubbed her that a few years ago. It had stuck and now everyone called her that, though sometimes it was said in sarcasm. That was fine with her. Princess was more pleasing to her ears than her actual name.

Croc was one of the few that were nice to her. He was an overly large man, almost seven feet tall, and bulk to match. Nothing but muscle. His skin was scaly and rough due to a skin disease he had been born with. That had been what earned him the nickname Croc, and the abandonment from his parents. Because of the disease he had not a single hair on his body, a fact Princess noted. Born Waylon Jones, now Croc or Killer Croc to some. If it had not been for his skin ailment, he would have just been a normal dark skinned male. But, as it were, he could not be that lucky.

Croc was a very kind and gentle person, to those that were lucky. He worked for the mob because he had no other option. He was not like Princess, a slave, but no one would hire someone who looked like him. Even factories had turned the man down. Princess hated the fact that he worked for the scoundrels that held her freedom, but understood his reasoning. People need money in order to survive, a fact she knew well, so she could not begrudge the man on it. Money made the world go round.

Princess loved Croc dearly and would do anything for him. But she could not find it in herself to be in love with him. He held a special place in her heart, but not the special place. No one would be able to hold that place. There was not one person she would allow herself to fall in love with. She did not believe in love. Love was just a fairy tale, and she lived in reality. A nightmarish hell of a reality.

"Princess!" her dearest friend Selina called out to her. Selina was another prostitute and the first to try and befriend her. She ran to her side and helped the limping woman to the wall. The bright green eyes of hers glittered with concern. Since the woman was a few years older, she took care of Princess as much as possible. Treated her as a sister. Princess loved the woman. There was nothing she would not do for her. "That fucking asshole threw you out of the car again." A nod was the only response Selina got. "I should have known!" she screamed. "I saw him speeding by." A sigh escaped her lips. "Croc's not going to like this."

Selina Kyle, her better half as Princess liked to call her, was not just her dearest friend, but her only one besides Croc and Selina's sister Holly. She was a good five-five in height even without the heels, with an athletic build of a body. She had ebony colored hair that was cut short a chunk of it covering her right eye. As was the usual attire of a prostitute, she wore a black leather mini skirt that barely covered her assets and a black tube top shirt. Princess had chosen a spaghetti strapped shirt over one of those. She did not like the idea that a random person could come up and pull her top down. Selina's features were angular and much like a cat's. The fact that she had emerald colored eyes made her appear even more cat like. Selina was even attracted to things that glittered.

"That's why you're not going to tell him," hissed Princess. "That's the last thing he needs, add another body to his count." Croc had anger management problems and did not know his own strength in times of high fury. He had killed several men before with just a single well placed blow to the head. Princess had been present for a few of them. She was never one to be squeamish and had seen death several times before. Death worse and bloodier than what Croc had done.

Selina sighed. "You're right, but how are you gonna explain what happened to him? You do live with him."

"I'll tell him I fell. It's the same excuse I use every time." Croc was not the brightest of men, and it was easy to lie to him. Princess hated to do it, especially to him, but she was protecting him. She would not take the chance of losing him just because he killed some prick over her. She was not worth him being sent to Arkham for the hundredth time.

"And he believes you every time." Selina shook her head. "To him, you can do no wrong. He really loves you, ya know? Can't you find it in yourself to love him back?"

Princess shook her head. "No. I don't think I could love anyone. Don't even think I know what it is."

Selina set her against a brick wall close to their shared spot. The spot could not be called a corner; it was just a random place close to the street. Princess thankfully leaned against it. "Honey," Selina said staring her in the eyes. The woman's green eyes were a great contrast compared to Princess' grey ones. "That has to be the saddest thing I eva heard."

Princess did not answer, just leaned her head against the wall and looked into the late night sky. No stars could be seen from where she stood. Understandable. Heavy smog forever hung over the Narrows and the city lights blacked out the ones that would have dared to shine too brightly. Gotham City consumed everything within its grasp. Even the surrounding cities seemed to be dissolving into nothingness as Gotham slowly ate away at them. Gotham was cancer. Nothing but a parasite that could not be rid of. A city so corrupt that even its inhabitants had turned their backs on it. All except one. The Batman.

Princess had not had the pleasure of meeting the man, nor did she want it. What the hell could he do to help her? In one word, nothing. Her current predicament was not one that she could be rescued from. The only thing he could do was stop someone from beating her, but then there would just be another to replace that one and one to replace that one. So was the circle of her life. Sex, drugs, and an endless stream of beatings. There were very few that did not hit her, but she did not see them for long. The mob took care of that. For some reason they saw it fit to punish her by giving her the most violent customers they could dig up. A punishment for something she had not done herself.

"Princess!" a male voice screamed. Torn from her thoughts, Princess looked to the man. It was Bob. A tall muscular man with blond hair cropped short to his head and bright blue eyes wearing his signature white wife beater, faded out jeans, and tennis shoes that were now grey instead of their once brilliant white. He happened to be one of her pimps. To keep things fair, the mob switched pimps every week. There were a total of three of them. Bob, Mike, and the jerk off Andy.

Out of the three, Bob was the nicest. Never once had he hit any of the girls, and did everything he could to make them happy. Mike, a very tall dark skinned male with black eyes and not a spot of hair on his head, could go either way. He only punished the women if they, in his mind, deserved it. Andy a fake tanned male with dark hair and hazel eyes was the worst. At least the worst to Princess. For some reason or another, he hated her. Beat her without cause, took every chance he could to rape her, and gave her the worst possible jobs. Even refused to pay her the part of the money she had earned. During the week he was in rule, Princess would go hungry. That was, until Croc decided to move in with her. Now, there was not a day she starved.

Though Croc was not physically appealing, he was the sweetest man Princess had ever known. She felt bad that she could not find it in herself to love him. He had been nothing but kind to her since day one when the mob threw her into his arms. Another detail of her job was to make sure the henchmen stayed happy. At first, he had refused for the fact that she was underage. Every time he had sent her back, someone would beat her. It had taken some convincing from Selina for him to take her. That time was spent talking in the dark, Croc still unwilling to touch a minor. It had been three years ago that they had met, and it was not until up to a year ago that they had finally done more than talk.

"What?" Princess shouted pushing herself away from the wall. "Oh, let me guess, I have another customer."

Finally in front of her, Bob towered over her. "Don't get that tone with me missy, or I might just have to pinch those cute cheeks of yours." That statement was accompanied by a pinch on her left cheek. Princess rolled her eyes. That was Bob, always the jokester. It was a surprise that he was still in the business, but he made the girls happy. When the girls were happy, stuff got done, and money was earned. "And yeah, you have another customer. This will be your last of the night. So, just go home afterwards."

"What 'bout the money?" inquired Princess, which reminded her. She pulled out a wad of cash from her bra and handed it over to Bob.

Bob took the money and pocketed it. "He's already paid for." Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he led her down the street. "He's at Bib's waitin' for ya." Bib's was a hotel that was where their main source of business went. The hotel was cheap, dirty, and rough looking. Perfect for the scum of Gotham to go for their pleasure. Fit well with the slum around it as well. It was run by a fat old balding man nicknamed Bib. Princess did not know his real name or where the nickname had came from, and frankly, she did not want to know.

Bib allowed them to use his place for a few reason. The main being he was allotted to keep a small percentage of the earnings. Another reason was he used to work for the mob. In his earlier years, the man had been henchmen turned pimp, and happened to be Princess' first pimp before he retired. Now, he just ran a slummy hotel as a front to the mob's prostitution ring. Said that he liked it that way. He could still keep an eye on the girls, and kept a part of his old life with him. Once a mobster, always a mobster. No one truly left that part of them behind.

'Why ya limpin' Princess?" Bob asked her as they walked together.

"Got thrown outta car again."

Bob grunted. "Fuckin' bastard. I oughta kill Andy for that. I just know that it was him that had that guy come for ya. Andy's had it out for ya since day one."

"It's probably 'cause my dad's a cop. I don't know why he's taken it out on me though, the prick didn't give a shit about me. Andy ain't hurtin' him by hurtin' me."

"Yeah, well, Andy ain't no better. He's a prick. Worst if I've eva seen one. Surprised Croc hadn't killed him by now."

"He's tried a few times, but, for some reason, people keep stoppin' him."

A few feet before the hotel, Bob stopped and forced Princess to do so as well. "I want you to be careful with this guy. He asked specifically for you and that usually means it's one of Andy's boys." He shook his head. "I don't see Andy hangin' out with this guy, though. He's a freak."

Princess' eyes narrowed. "Freak is an ugly word, and one you know I don't like."

"Sorry, I just couldn't think of another way to describe him. He gave me the creeps. Just the way he talked was bone chillin'. All high pitched and whiney. Don't like it. Gives me a bad feelin'."

She shook her head. Light reflected off of her long dangling silver earrings making it dance in the night. "You're such a pussy, Bob. I'm goin' now so that I can get home." Turning, she walked away giving him a backward wave.

As she opened the door to Bib's harsh bright light hit her eyes forcing her to squint. "'Evenin' Princess," Bib's deep voice called to her.

Her eyes adjusted to the light and she walked toward the man who sat behind his desk. "Hey Bib." She rested her right elbow on the nearly chest high desk and her chin found its place in the cup of her hand. "What room am I in?"

"Ten." Reaching behind the desk he pulled out the designated key to the room with a dull red key tag.

Princess looked at it in confusion. "Why you handin' me this, isn't he already in the room?"

"Nope. Said he had to step out for a minute, but he'll be back. Wants you in the room waitin' for him."

A sigh escaped her lips. "One of those then." This was not the first time that happened. A lot of the men liked having the girls waiting for them in the room, naked and ready. Made them feel all the more wanted and powerful. Men had one complex after the next. During her five years of forced prostitution, Princess had witnessed several of them in all shapes and sizes.

"How's Croc?" asked Bib trying to strike up a conversation. "Haven't seen him in a dog's age."

"He's good, I guess. He seems happy enough."

"Heard he pummeled Andy earlier this evenin'."

Why was she not surprised? Andy was a prick and always had his mouth running. The vile things he said got him into trouble a lot. Croc hated the man and took every chance he could at beating him into a pulp. It happened nearly every week. "I take it he didn't kill the bastard?"

"Naw, fight got stopped before then."

"Damn."

"You're tellin' me, hun, you're tellin' me. The world would be much better if he wasn' in it." No one liked Andy. If he ever turned up missing, not a single person would miss him. Most would smile in glee. The girls would be a lot happier. All but one, but she was not important. Just some blond bimbo that thought she was better than everyone in the world. Thought he shit didn't stink. "He's in the hospital though. Might be in there for a while."

A smile cracked Princess' face. "Good, maybe I won't see him for a while. Might teach him to keep his dirty mouth shut. Well, I'll be goin' then. Talk to ya later." Bib just waved her away with a shooing motion.

Walking up the single flight of stairs, Princess made her way to the room. After many visits to the place, she knew exactly where she was going. It would not have been hard to find anyways. The hotel was small, and there was only so far a person could go in either direction. Room ten happened to be the last room on the right.

Passing a few rooms in the dimly lit hallway, she could hear muffled moans coming from behind the dark stained wooden doors. All fake moans of course. Princess could almost match each moan with a face. She probably could if she listened hard enough. That was not what was on her mind though. Getting to the room was all that mattered at the moment. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could go back home. Home sounded really good. Being exhausted, all she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and sleep. But first, she had a job to take care of.

Princess made it to room ten and popped the key into the key hole. With a twist, it unlocked the door; she turned the handle and entered. She tossed the key on the table that was just out of reach of the door on the left side of the room and flipped on the lights.

The table was a light colored wood and came up to her hips. Three chairs surrounded it. There had been a fourth chair, but a customer had gotten really rowdy and busted it against her back. She had been sent to the hospital because of it. Broke three of her ribs. That man was now dead. Croc had gotten a hold of him and the rest was history. Because of the murder, Croc had spent a month in Arkham before they release him on good behavior. The jury had not been harsh considering the man had not meant to kill him.

Nothing had changed since she had last been in there. The carpet was still a dirty brown color with interesting stains in random places. The once white walls were a sickly yellow color stained from the years of nicotine. Touching the walls would leave a slimy sticky residue on the hands. A plain bed adorned with two flat pillows and a thin orange cover sat against the wall on the right.

On top of the bed sat a piece of paper. Princess walked over and picked it up. It was a note. The words were in scratchy handwriting but were perfectly legible.

Take a shower, I like my women clean.

Princess scoffed and crinkled up the piece of paper. As she headed into the bathroom she stripped and tossed the note in the small waste bin leaning against the wall. When in the bathroom, she removed her long dangling earrings and her ponytail. When not put up, Princess' hair reached the tip of her butt. She could not wait to chop it all off. Hated it. She was forced to keep her hair long so that the men had something to hold on to. Not the most comforting reason to keep her hair long. She wasted no time and jumped in the shower immediately after she turned on the water. It was cold at first, but then quickly grew hot.

The now steaming water cascaded down her body turning her nearly waist length dark brown hair an even darker shade. As the water fell, so did her makeup. That was something she was glad to be rid of. She may be a whore, but that did not mean she had to look the part as well. She felt simple black eyeliner would do that trick, but it was not her choice. Nothing ever was. The water was turned grey from the globs of mascara that were placed on her eyelashes. She watched it as it slowly circled the drain, and did so until the water was clear. Then, she cleaned herself up.

After she was done cleaning herself up, Princess jumped out of the shower, taking care to turn the water off. From the towel rack screwed to the wall she grabbed the single towel hanging off of it. By the looks of it, the towels were the most expensive things in the hotel. White, fluffy, and from the smell of them, freshly cleaned.

Firmly she wrapped the towel around her, not bothering to dry off. She started to leave the bathroom, and everything went dark.