CHAPTER 1.

Thursday, October 31st, the city's streets were crowded for the Holiday, even with the rain. Hidden in the chaos was an element. Waiting to strike like lambs to the slaughter. The rain softly strikes the streets from the bowels of the sky. The second biggest Holiday of the year gave a natural response to those who were iniquitous. Occasionally, small businesses would be broken into, and corner stores stripped of their cash. And the victims were hardly ever prepared.

The subways were dark and were usually packed within the daylight. Everyone was always in the hurry. It was always a constant struggle to fight for a small amount of space, without receiving an elbow to the rib. And at night, barely any citizens rode the train. They consisted of raw fear of being mugged, robbed, or killed. It was a common thing that Gotham's Gazette wrote about, besides Gotham's politically corrupt.

The subway cart shook rapidly, as it rattled against the tracks. Y/n sat on the farthest side of the train cart, isolating herself away from the group of young men. There were around ten of them. Most sat in a hunched position, their eyes fixed on a video caught on camera earlier that day. It was of three men in black leather jackets and skull face paint, circled a man in a white, track-suit.

Identical to the face paint they wore on the train. Constant screeches echoed through the tunnels, and the lights began to flicker. Occasionally, the men glanced at the person closest to the front. A staff rested on her lap, that stood out into the aisle.

Her hood concealed the mask that she bared. She chose her targets, carefully. Her eyes began to trace the cascade of raindrops that intertwined down the window. Her eyes snapped from the window and over ahead of her to the second cart that was connected. The door had a constant rhythm of closing back and forth, while obscure within darkness.

The hairs on the back of her neck raised, she felt as if peering through the darkness. One young man with copper-coloured skin noticed. His makeup was distinct from the other men that rode the same train. His face was half painted, showing his true identity.

The men began to chuckle and comment about the video they'd been replaying for the last ten minutes. It aggravated Y/n, that they haven't reached their stop.

"Look at this guy, man. Boom!" One man laughed. The group began to disturb the cart with their boisterous laughter. A couple of passengers decided to move, she didn't blame them. Out of spite, she wanted to smash his phone into fragments. Purposely, it was like they desired for everyone on the cart to perceive the topic they focused on.

The sound of leather crinkled against her metal staff, as her grip tightened.

The group's focus was ripped from the phone and towards her. Her costume was genderless and petrifying. It consisted of a black leather trench coat, with strips of leather, fastened with golden buckles, and a shoulder brace. Along with black, steel combat boots and black cargo pants to finish off the look.

Her mask was inspired by a small doll she possessed, throughout the dark moments of her childhood. To protect her identity and to provoke fear into her targets. A passenger removed themselves away from the boisterous group and closer to the subway door. 

It was almost frustrating to Y/n that people in Gotham didn't know how to behave in public. And have the common courtesy to keep their voices down. She glanced briefly, towards the group of men. They kept their eyes locked on the passenger momentarily. The subway began to slow down to its stop, and Y/n arose from her seat.

The lights began to flicker once again, the doors drew open, and she vanished. The African-American teenager widened his eyes in disbelief. His eyes narrowed towards the absent seat, closest to the front. Soon she became nonexistent in the eyes of many. Her absence left an uneasy feeling in his gut. He stood bewildered.

A pressure pressed against his shoulder, one of his friends hurried him out of the subway cart. They stalked a man in glasses, the same passenger that removed themselves away from the group.

"Hurry up, man." one of them rushed to the group after exiting the train.

Casually, the man strode towards the closest exit. He was stopped by the same group of men who encouraged the kid to make his move. The newest recruitment to the gang, he had to prove himself.

The soon-to-be victim became alarmed, after he spun around, and realized he was being stalked. Flight or fight met his mind. His mind was like a flat battery, half drained, but his thoughts went through an erratic process of flight or flee. The victim bolted towards the exit

Like nocturnal animals, they slammed him up against the bars of the exit. His face was pressed against the wall while he clung to the exit for dear life.

"Help!" the man shrieked.

Forcefully, one dragged him back and held onto him. They began to obnoxiously laugh at the man, satisfied that they received the reaction they sought for. In seconds the man was soaked to the bone, sheer drops slid off the edges of his ebony hair. His eyes narrowed as the younger man approached the subway victim. His group held him steadily, while the others encouraged the teenager to hurt him.

Anxiety began to fill the teenager's chest and his heart refused to calm down. He stared into the civilian's eyes, while his face was wrinkled in fear. His eyes remained soulful and fascinated with horror.

"Showtime man-"

The victim's eyes screwed shut in fear. An earsplitting crash came from the metal staircase. She smashed the bottom of her staff onto the concrete and tiled ground. The tile split in two and small rubble was scattered among the floors.

The group leader snapped his gaze away from the victim and over to the obscured hall that led to a staircase. His hand brushed against his trench coat, he drew out a machete.

"Looks like we have company," he mumbled. The sound began to become meteoric. Her metal boots echoed throughout the subway. With enough light, their eyes hunted for the person responsible for the noise. Water sloshed around over her steel boots as she approached them.

Their eyes traced over her, she was tall, around 5'11. Her face was obscured by a creepy mask that was inspired by a makeshift doll when she was younger. Visually creepy and intimidating, the perfect identity concealer.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" one of them laughed.

No answer came from her, she took it things up a notch and stepped into the man's space. With impulsive intentions, he swung his blade, she grabbed onto the man's wrist, twisted her staff upwards and swiftly smashed him in the chest. Y/n raised her knee and smashed it into the man's gut. He stumbled back and slowly recovered. The group circled her and their boss, making sure there wasn't a moment where she could bail.

Electricity began to ripple from her staff and the end of her staff collided against the man's chest. A surge of pain evaporated through his skeletal structure and smoke began to cloud off from his body. The compelling shock sent him back, he collided with three of his men. To Y/n, she wasn't holding anything back when all at once, like a pack of wolves, lunged into the fight.

Like a rhythm to a song, she grabbed the first one and roughly shoved him forward, using him as a meat shield. She spun around her staff and knocked out the man's knife from his grasp. She pushed him back where his spine collided against the steel bar holding up the foundation.

The third slashed her on the shoulder with his blade and his boot smashed against the side of her knee, making her almost lose her balance. She let out a growl of pain, gritting her teeth and keeping herself from screaming in pain.

But unknowingly, the end of her staff uppercut the bottom of his jaw. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. He collapsed onto his back and the other two dropped their weapons and fled when blood began to pour out from his head. She checked him for a pulse, placing two, gloved, fingers on his neck. Her pride stopped her from killing the man, even when he intended to hurt her. The victim was still present, he didn't move an inch from where he was, except his back was to the staircase.

Her eyes traced over a pair of glasses, half-cracked, but it was fixable. She knelt and picked it up by the bridge of the glasses. Y/n turned her heel and approached the man with cautious steps.

She acknowledged this was something that he could barely process. He simply stared at her in wonder and fascination. Even when his eyes narrowed to a pinprick, trying to make out who was there. With a gloved hand, she handed him his glasses by placing them down on his lap.

His fingers brushed against the temples of his glasses. His eyes flickered to her.

"Thank you," he whispered, breaking the awkward silence between the two.

She felt a chill crawl up her spine as if someone was watching from the distance. Their eyes burned into her back and her hairs raised. She turned her back and retreated away from the subway.

"Who are you?" she stopped in her tracks.

"Retribution," she answered. 

The street lamp began to buzz, and blink relentlessly. A pop sound was made. Shadows of morn and eventide come as patient as clocks in a serendipitous day. The victim rose from his uncomfortable position, in a hurry when he heard a groan exit the criminal's lips. 

He rolled onto his side, his eyes adjusted to the smallest amount of light. His mind was drained like a flat battery and a splitting headache curled its fingers around his skull.

His hand reached for the back of his head, blood coated his fingertips and realization struck him. Anger fueled his heart and rage rose from his gut. His eyes narrowed towards the machete, the one of his boss left behind.

He picked it up and heard stealthy steps as the victim fled the scene. The gang member's gaze hunted for the masked guardian.

"Show yourself, boogeyman!" he erupted in anger. It was almost laughable how late he was in saying those few words of courage, masking his fear and anger.

 With humble silence answering him, his anger retreated inside of him. Soft patters of rain kissed the concrete below him. In those sweet puddles of solitude, brought wonder. It was so silent, the busy streets were empty, and barely any cars passed over the level over the subway station. Even when it was Halloween it was already early enough that kids would be inside.

He feared whether he should stick around any longer. Maybe it was all in his head.

Unknowingly, she stood on the opposite side of the tracks, using him as prey to lure out the nocturnal animal that hid in the shadows. The partial light outlined the figure in the shadows, like when a partial moon passes into a penumbra of dimly outlined light. 

After the rain-drenched Gotham in tears of solitude, the air was ripe, pleasant, and petrichor. The air cleared her head as she watched closely, wondering whether the masked vigilante was real or not. By day, occasionally, she would find sections of a newspaper revealing a man cloaked by shadows, taking flight during the night.

In particular detail, the masked vigilante is described as ruthless. Frequently he cleans up the streets by killing people who have committed crimes and have done immoral things, by slipping through the thin threads of the law for a minimal amount of time.

She patiently watched if the sources she read were right.

She studied the masked vigilante as he approached the criminal. Half of the criminal's cheap face paint began to cascade into messy lines down his chin. He spun around, and his gaze hunted for the Lady of shadows, but he soon met a pair of cold eyes.

"Fuck this," he muttered.

The criminal was convinced that the tyrant of shade had a connection with the woman he came across. His mind couldn't comprehend Y/n's gender, suit, mask, and height, and encrypted her identity beneath her suit.

Impulsively, he lunged at Batman. He held a firm grip on the blade his boss dropped. His confidence began to crumble from the tips of his fingers, as the masked vigilante caught his wrist. 

His knee collided with the criminal's abdomen, and he twisted his wrist where the criminal dropped his weapon. The unarmed criminal let out an agonizing scream as he held his wrist in pain.

"Where's your honour, man?! You don't fight someone unarmed-" the wind was soon knocked out of the criminal, as his back collided against the steel pillar holding up the tracks above the subway station. The vigilante saw that as a contradiction, the criminal's group was armed, and chose to prey on the helpless in an immoral way.

With a slow stride, he approached the criminal. His gloved fingers curled into a tight fist. The criminal's heart began to race, he held his hands in front of his face.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he begged.

"I'll give you anything, spare me! Even information!" the criminal pleaded.

The masked vigilante halted in his tracks and abruptly grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket. Forcefully, he dragged him up the pillar, where the criminal's feet hardly touched the ground. A small smile curled from the corner of her lips. His intimidation factors were impressive, she gave him that.

The criminal's mouth partially opened, as if he had suddenly forgotten his train of thoughts. The only thing that might spare him. But it was too late, the masked vigilante ignored his pleads and silenced him. His fist collided against the side of his temple. The criminal's head snaps to the side, and his eyes unconsciously rolled back.

Batman untangled his grip from the criminal's collar.

The tracks began to rumble and a loud forlorn whistle in the early morning interrupted his thoughts. An uneasy feeling began to rise from his stomach as if someone watched him. His gaze hunted for the cause of him becoming more alert to his surroundings.

His eyes traced over the creepy mask she wore. A blinding light began to stretch throughout the tunnel, the tracks began to rattle within the station. The endless line of carts passed the station. As soon as the subway pulled out of the station, the woman of shadows was erased from the scene.

A/note: Hey, over a couple of years, I haven't made many x readers, but this one I am super excited to write. Since there aren't many here on Wattpad, I have decided to write one myself. Over a couple of years, I have improved my writing, grammar, etc. I hope you guys have enjoyed the beginning of Lady Arkham because it's going to become much darker, revolving around her past. Feel free to leave a vote or a comment if you are enjoying my story so far :).