SoR8


I hadn't meant to make the girl cry, but dang! She evidentially didn't know a thing about privacy.

As I walked down the hall back toward the common room, I heard someone muttering. I ignored them and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottled beverage before heading back.

I could still remember being shoved into the glass box, Two-Face getting ready to induce a chemical into the box. 

I was so distracted, I ran flat into someone. This 'someone' was huge though. Big enough to take on Bane and probably defeat him.

"Hey, Sammy." he dicho in an Italian accent. "Where's pretty girl?" 

I didn't know what happened next. All I know is the drink is smashed on the floor, I'm heaving, and the guy is in the wall, moaning about his neck. Blood trickles into my eyes, but I ignore it. There are a dozen people looking at me in awe.

"Anybody else got a problem?" I growled.

No one responded.

"Damn, I dropped my drink."

I headed back to my room and washed off the cuts before bandaging them. The fight hadn't lasted long, but it had taken its toll. I was bruised and cut all over. I was going to be sore in the morning, but I wasn't about to let them think me weak.

"Revenge, report." 

I sigh and walk over to the communicator. "Two-Face is the boss. Jazzman is a face."

"Do tu want out?" 

I pause. It's tempting. I can get out and not have to worry about anything. Not face the memories and nightmares anymore. But why am I a hero then? o rather, pretending to be?

"Nah, I'll be good." I reply.

"Are tu sure?" 

"No."

Because I know that he can still control me. He can still make me his mindless slave if he chooses.

And he can make me kill más than just my enemies.