So writer's block wasn't kind to me and that's the reason this story has taken so long to write. I had about the first three paragraphs started over a week ago and my brain just shut off after that part, HOWEVER. Thank you to WinterRain36 for reminding me that sometimes I just need to tell my brain to stop being sassy and push through it. So thank you for that and thank you for allowing those creative juices to flow since I will be starting on the next chapter almost right away :D

With that, I want to thank you for still reading this story and I hope you enjoy the latest chapter :)

"Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future."

— John F Kennedy

It was Monday and I had been laying low since my run in with Gordon, but that itch had come back and I could no longer ignore it. I was following a man by the name of Horace; I had been tracking his movements, his whereabouts and his visits to the street corners over the weekend. He had left quite the impression on me.

He would cut the girls and take some of their blood, either a fetish or a beginning to a serial killer, either way it had to end. After he got his trophy, he would do his bidding and then knock them out and leave without paying them. Quite barbaric really, fucking a girl and not even paying her for pretending to get pleasure out of it, hardly a way to treat a lady Horace. Sounds like mommy never taught him proper manners, guess that job falls to me now.

I watched him do his routine all weekend; sometimes he would meet up with three girls in one day. There was no stopping this man and I saw enough to know that this was a pattern and that there had to be multitudes of other prostitutes he meets with that I don't see. I could only fathom how may vials of blood he had at home.

So I followed him home one day after his trip to the supermarket, it was during the day so someone being near him or possibly glancing his way would not put him off. He was a predator of the night; the daytime was his moment to rest and his time to pretend to be normal; something I gave up a long time ago.

I felt my mind flash to Robin; would I be willing to try it for him? I shook my head, trying to clear it of the thought. I didn't understand why at this moment I thought of him, before I made my kill. This moment was sacred to me, this was the moment when I could let go, stop processing what was the next logical step, stop calculating possibilities of reactions from what decisions I make. I could breathe easy again.

So why think of Robin at this time? I could not fathom an idea as to why and it would be something I would ponder later but right now, I had to focus.

I saw my moment; he was about to walk by a very open alley that was also the beginning of the not-so-pretty part of Gotham. It was the perfect place. I ducked into a large and fast moving tourist group, passing my target without him knowing the better. Slipping out of the group, I hung in the shadows of the alley, waiting for dear Horace to come by.

In a split second he went from walking as a free man, to being a trapped animal in my chokehold, scrambling for his life but it was futile; I could feel his body giving up.

I quickly reached into my pocket and grabbed a small syringe, pushing it into his neck; I released the fluid, causing Horace to go limp in my grasp. I made sure to place the syringe safely back into my pocket before dragging him out into the busy street.

"Help." I called out. "Please, my husband." Tears grew in my eyes and I started to make myself panic. I had to play that part to prevent having to explain why I was dragging an unconscious body, but I was counting on the fact that there has to be some good people who will fall for my tricks.

Like I predicted, two middle aged men hurried to my rescue. They grabbed Horace by the arms and raised him into a vertical position. "Thank you." I blubbered. "The car is right here."

I walked them to a grey Toyota, a common car for Gotham. I opened the passenger door and let the gentlemen place Horace into the seat, even buckled him in at my request; I had to make sure my husband was safe. I thanked them again hastily before they left my prey alone with me. I smiled and got into the car.

"We will have a nice time Horace. I promise." I said, more to myself than anything. I knew Horace couldn't hear me and I knew nobody else was around to listen to my small banter, but I was excited.

I could taste the kill on my tongue, the way it tingled and sent chills down my spine; it enthralled me and captivated me. I couldn't help but let go and enjoy this moment.

Horace awoke, yanking at the chains the bound him. "I wouldn't do that." I said, calmly as I walked into his view. "Hello Horace." I chimed, smiling brightly at him while I delicately played with the knife in my hands.

"Wh-wh-who are you?" I slanted my head to the side, my brow slightly furrowing.

"They call me The Vigilante." I made a sound to express my disgust and I saw Horace frown. "I know, right? What a stupid name and its so contradicting. I mean, here I am." I paused as I walked towards Horace, stopping only a foot away from him. "Prepared to kill you, yet I'm the hero?" I let out a tiny laugh. "I never understood you people."

"You people? You're just like us—"

"Don't you even dare try to compare me to everyone else." I had the knife to his throat. "I'm not like you, Horace." I sneered and stepped back, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Do you know where we are?" I asked, knowing I wouldn't get an answer. "We're in the place where I was first raped. Now I saw raped because the man brought me here, fucked me and never paid me. He knocked me unconscious and left me in the middle of FUCKING nowhere. I was thirteen, I had no way of defending myself, and do you know what that man ended up doing later in life?" I asked, again not expecting an answer.

"He killed two of my girls, two of my friends because they fought back. He tried to leave without paying and they stopped him, so he beat them until you couldn't even recognize them." I put my lips right next to Horace's ear and whispered. "He enjoyed it." I smiled. "And so would you if it ever came to that."

"No! No, never. I would never hurt someone."

"Liar!" I yelled. "Another reason why I am not like you people. I don't understand how thick you can all be, how you all choose to be so oblivious to the world surrounding you. You don't think Gotham is filled with filth? With corrupted scum? You're a fool to think it's not. I learnt the truth the hard way in life."

"What are you going to do to me?" He slightly cried, panic setting in as he stood, chained up to a wall. I looked down at my knife as I pressed the tip against one of my fingers, slightly drawing blood. I saw Horace's eyes dart to my finger; I saw the hunger and the thirst for the red liquid that poured from my skin.

"One day, this," I brought my finger close to his face, making sure he could smell the aroma, "won't be enough for you. One day, that slight cut that you give all the girls won't satisfy you. Eventually you will need more, a higher dosage of your drug, higher quantity." I paused, my finger lingering under Horace's nose.

"It's always the same with you molesters—it's never about the quality, just the quantity." I drew my finger back and I saw him leave his place of serenity, I saw the darkness grow in his eyes as they started to fill with tears.

"I've wanted to do it for awhile." He confessed, his eyes suddenly on mine. Something about him started to unnerve me; this wasn't what always happened during these things. Why wasn't he begging by now? Surely he knew my intentions, that I would be killing him soon. So why wasn't he begging me to let him go? "Kill someone." He said, shakier this time.

"I've dreamt about it," he started to cry, "fantasized about it…oh god!" He cried out and I smiled, not only did he justify his death even further for me, but he was acting as he should, as they always do. I felt at ease as things were slowly going back to normal.

"Please…" He begged in between heavy sobs. "Kill me, please god just kill me. I'm a monster." Tears were streaming down this man's face as he begged me to kill him, to end his life as if it was what he wanted. I stood still, not moving, trying to understand what this man was saying, what he meant by it. Was he trying to throw me off my game? Was he trying to distract me—unnerve me? I didn't understand, this has never happened to me before. Never has anyone ever begged for me to end their miserable life.

"Please, just do it. I don't want to be like this anymore."

"Why?" I asked, more in impulse than anything. The man stopped crying almost instantly and looked at me, confusion widely spread across his features.

"Why what?" He asked, perplexed and his voice still slightly shaky.

"Why do you not want to be like that anymore?" Horace slightly shook his head, letting it hang.

"Because I'm not like you." He whispered and I felt a rage come over me. How dare he toy with me, try to be smart in a time that I was in power, but something in me didn't want to kill him. Some part of me felt like it would be wrong but when Horace looked back up at me, my hand reached out on it's own accord and sliced his throat.

I felt my heart beat faster, adrenaline rush through my body but a coldness start to grow when I saw his thankful eyes—he was thanking me. I felt light headed and a sudden need for fresh air.

I rested my back against the door once I was outside. The fresh, cold air filling my lungs, I felt my knees grow weak and I felt sick to my stomach. What was happening to me?

I had never had this feeling before, this…regret? I didn't want to kill that man even though he deserved it. He confessed to wanting to kill, wanting to murder! So then why did I hesitate? Why did I have to rely on muscle memory to get the job done while I detached my mind from the action?

I couldn't bear going back into that room, the thought made me want to throw up. For the first time in my life, I was disgusted with myself.

So this is what it feels like to have a conscious? I sighed and banged the back of my head against the door. I hated it. Why me? Why now? Curse his stupidity and weak mindedness. Why did he have to ask me to kill him?

Growling out of frustration, I pushed myself off the door and left. I left the car and left Horace hanging, naked, in that room. I never left traces; I always made sure of that. I went in with little equipment, always wore gloves and always had my hair covered. However, I knew that if Horace had never seen my face, I could have let him go, I could have let him loose and give him time to kill himself.

If I was to be Gotham's new hero, then I should act the part, but before I could do that I had to find out whom The Batman was and where he's gone. He has a new protégé to teach.

John will be next chapter! I promise he isn't gone. haha but what did you think? Let me know in a review or PM :D

Also, Kindleflame5 and Highlander348 bring up good points that yes, she needs to wear a mask and yes, The Vigilante isn't working for me or Erin. So I want to see what you guys want. Tell me your suggestions and next chapter I will put them up and see what you all like best. You can send me your suggestions in a PM or in a review, either is fine with me. But let me know what you think her persona name should be, what kind of mask she should wear, even the color scheme of her suit if you want to. I always like hearing what other people imagine it to be like, ya know?

With that, I want to apologize again for taking so freaking long with this story, I just didn't want to force it and mess it up. I hope that didn't happen today X| Also, thank you thank you for your ongoing support and kind reminders that I need to update. Sometimes I need that little kick in the caboose to get me going, so I encourage it!

Much love!

Narrie