Here's the first chapter of the sequel to my first story 'Shadows'! I'm sorry if it feels a little slow moving, I'm trying to set the scene a little... :)

Anyhow...hope you like it! :D

First song for this story's playlist is 'No Light , No light' by Florence + The Machine - link is on my profile ;)

Disclaimer: Real one this time, to start off with anyway... I DON'T OWN ANYTHING DC OR CHRIS NOLAN RELATED. I OWN ORIGINAL CHARACTERS ONLY.

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Chapter 1

Georgiana walked sombrely through the dull white door into the padded cell and gently glanced at the man who was cowering on the floor.

She blinked quickly, trying to keep her guilt from appearing on her face and took her seat on the plastic chair by the bed. Georgiana turned her head slowly and nodded at the large orderly that had followed her into the cell, "It's OK. If I need you, I'll let you know."

The orderly wavered but ultimately gave in to her. "Yes Ma'am." He muttered quietly, "I'll be right outside the whole time." Georgiana smiled that she understood and turned back around in her chair.

Once the orderly had closed the door, her mouth opened but the words were just not forthcoming. She sighed and leant forward, placing her elbows on her knees and stared hard at the man she had come to see.

"Hello daddy." She whispered bitterly, but Hugo Quinn continued to simply stare blankly ahead, grasping his knees to his chest.

"Look at me." Georgiana commanded him firmly. Hugo didn't move a muscle.

"Look at me." Her words were sharp enough to slice through his dementia this time, as his dazed eyes flickered to her. "That's better. I came to tell you that I've sold Quinn Hall." As she spoke, Hugo watched her every movement with trepidation.

"Would you like to know who bought it?" She asked with a silken voice.

Hugo was silent, but he nodded his head the tiniest bit. This small, fraction of a movement wasn't lost on Georgiana as she smiled benignly at him.

"Bruce Wayne." Once those words had been uttered, she immediately recognised the look that crossed her father's face momentarily – hate. She saw the hot, disgusting revulsion this news had made him feel...but it only made her laugh.

"I think he's going to completely gut the place, and turn it into a chic apartment complex for the nouveau riche." She breathed out through her easy laughter.

"How could you?" Hugo's strained voice managed to choke out the words.

"It's quite easy really, once you have power of attorney." She shrugged and grinned at him. Even though Georgiana was relishing this power over her father, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. She even berated herself for it, Jesus Georgiana...just enjoy it! Reap what you sow...remember?

She sighed dramatically, "Well daddy, it's been magical. But I had better hit the old dusty trail!' She stood up and walked over to where he was sat on the floor. Hovering over him she said thoughtfully, "It's a funny world we live in..." She quickly spun around on her heels and strode over to the cell door, knocking on it delicately.

Georgiana stole a sneaky peek at her father, and she saw he was still staring at her with an unreadable expression, "It's hilarious." He answered her lethargically, narrowing his eyes. Georgiana raised her head proudly and walked confidently from her father's cell.

As she made her way through the different levels of the re-built Arkham Asylum, she spied a certain someone across the hall that was walking towards her. Georgiana's fury sat in a ball at the bottom of her stomach as she saw a tight smile grace Jonathan Crane's thin lips when he caught her eye. Georgiana glimpsed a small, mousey young woman trailing behind Crane, who was threatening to topple over due to being overloaded with files and trying to keep up with him. Her hair was a mess, her shirt buttons were done up all wrong and she had a rip in her nude coloured tights. Georgiana felt instant sympathy for the woman as Crane was probably running her ragged with his pernickety demands.

"Georgiana, we meet again." Crane spoke coolly, already assessing her responsive actions. Well, she certainly looks happy to see me again, he thought to himself sarcastically.

"Yes, how unfortunate." She drily stated. Crane raised an eyebrow, and motioned towards the young woman that lingered awkwardly behind him.

"I'd like to introduce my assistant to you, Anna Gray." The young woman resembled a star struck rabbit as she looked at Georgiana. Anna shifted her load to the other arm and offered a hand to shake, which Georgiana took.

"So you're Georgiana Quinn? Wow, I've never met anyone so rich before!" She cut herself off by giggling nervously, as though she had said something horribly offensive. Georgiana gave her a wry smile, "You should attend more benefits on behalf of Arkham...they're usually swarming with that kind of crowd."

Crane directed a scathing look at Anna, who immediately bowed her head shamefully. He cleared his throat, and asked Anna to continue to his office, which she hurriedly did without question. Once they were alone, Crane stood a little closer to Georgiana, which put her distinctly on edge.

"It has been a long time, Georgiana...it undoubtedly would be nice to catch up..." His eyes lit up as he spoke.

Georgiana leaned in towards him tenderly, their faces barely inches apart as she responded sweetly: "It has been a long time, Crane...and you're still undoubtedly an asshole."

Crane rolled his eyes and leant back away from her. His bored demeanour shielded her from his true annoyance, "Oh well, I'm sure we'll bump into each other at some time or another. You're a journalist now aren't you? I found that last article you wrote on 'Feline Fashion' in the Gotham Herald extremely thought provoking..."

Georgiana laughed and walked off from him as she retorted, "Thanks Crane, maybe you can send a copy to your grandmother in Georgia?" That caused Crane to scrunch his beautiful face up. How the hell does she know about my grandmother...?

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Georgiana had gone back to the Gotham Herald offices and settled herself down at her paper strewn desk. She slowly opened her top drawer and delved in to reach for a battered black box. She pulled it out and removed the lid gently and gazed down at the silver heart pendant that was nestled in the purple tissue. Her fingertips caressed the purple crystals that dotted its surface, and her mind couldn't help but wander back to him. You have to stop doing this to yourself. He's gone. You thought he would come back...but it's been five years. Georgiana suffocated her tears by staring up at the ceiling intensely. God she missed him. If she was truthful to herself, no one had ever come close to replacing Jack. Of course, she had gone on a few dates (that had mainly been set up by her best friend Charlotte) and she'd fooled around a couple of times, but they meant nothing to her. They could never compete with the memory of Jack.

Tearing her away from her thoughts, the newspaper's Editor bellowed her name out into the 'pit' – an affectionate term coined for the journalist's desk area where they all sat.

She groaned and placed the box back in the drawer. She lifted herself up and trudged over to his glass panelled office. When she entered, Thomas Morgan was sat in his oversized leather chair, poring over a draft of tomorrow's edition. His brown haired head didn't rise up as Georgiana stood in front of his desk, with her arms crossed. "What exciting story have you got for me today?" She could see him smirking as she spoke, which irritated her immensely.

Still concentrating on what he was doing, he spoke deeply, "Did it ever occur to you, Quinn, to go and find a story for yourself?"

Georgiana was caught off guard and she floundered. Thomas raised a hand up to stop her, and he finally looked up at her. His tanned, deeply lined face crinkled as his eyes squinted thoughtfully, "I see something in you..." He nodded and continued, "...but life is not going to be handed on a plate for you all the time. I know the upbringing you've had, and there's no denying that it's not going to be tough for you." He brought his leathery hand up to his chin to stroke, "But you do have a tenacity that can't be taught...so if you want a story, go and get one."

She knew he was right. Deep down, she knew. Even now, she could have probably bought this newspaper outright, but she didn't want to that. It would have been too like her father to just take what she wanted. Georgiana wanted to opportunity to work, to learn and become a person of significance in this world, and not simply because of her family's money. She had also chosen this profession because she knew about all the corruption and greed that had been swept under the carpet. People didn't really know what went on behind the doors of Gotham's elite – but she did. It wound her soul up in knots that the big men at the top were so arrogant to assume they could still do what they wanted, with no repercussions. Georgiana wanted to use her right for freedom of speech to uncover the seediness, and make sure that the vultures got what was coming to them.

"Thank you for the opportunity Mr. Morgan, and for the pep talk." She smiled at him warmly, "What did you want to see me about?"

"I thought I would, just this once, give you a potential lead." Morgan got up and walked over to his office door and closed it carefully. He turned to look at her and whispered secretively, "There's been a spate of robberies recently."

"That's no secret..." Georgiana was confused. Why was he behaving like he had pictures of the Senator with a chorus line of hookers. It wasn't exactly breaking news that there were robberies and murders in Gotham.

Morgan shook his head, "That's not it. Word on the street, there's a new criminal in town. No one knows who he is though, apart from the fact he likes to wear...face paint."

Georgiana gave the Editor a dubious look, "Are you serious?" she snorted through her nose and shook her head.

"This isn't a joke, Quinn. This guy is pretty fucked up; apparently he's got a thing for theatricality. I want you to cover everything this guy does, his background, everything."

Georgiana nodded enthusiastically, "OK Chief, I'll get started right away." Morgan patted her on the shoulder and dismissed her from his office.

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He stood at the window and watched the sun dip below the city skyline. He was like a predator waiting for his time to strike, and the build up of anticipation made him feel ferociously giddy. His hand slipped into his pocket and he felt for a squarish metallic object. Before he could take the object from his pocket, his ears picked up on the sound of soft footsteps. They entered the room behind him and stopped abruptly, a few steps away. A female voice spoke up, "We're ready when you are, boss." He noted the hint of nervousness that hid underneath the layers of strongly spoken words, and savoured it for a little longer than necessary.

He twirled around with a flourish and faced the female that had addressed him. His arms held out slightly from his torso as though he was a dancer. He tilted his head mischievously and looked her straight in the eyes. Her hair was short and blonde, cut into a severe bob that ended at her chin. She was tall and athletic - not a particularly feminine woman, but he didn't care. She did her job to perfection and that's all he wanted.

"Well, let's get this show on the road, toots!" he cried maniacally.

He strode out from the warehouse; his long purple coat flapped around his legs due to the chilly autumn wind, and he made his way towards the series of transit vans that awaited his arrival.

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Author's note: wonder who that could be? :P Sorry for any grammatical errors and stuff :S