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Haii again, I did something a little longer this time. ngl I didn't proofread it all the way, oops, but any how I'm working on writing longer stuff like I have in the past ;3 No warnings either, I don't think so anyways.
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It was a usual night for you in Gotham. Tired, just getting home from work. You open the door to your apartment building, kind of a creepy way to your cute apartment, but it was worth it.
It did make you a little uneasy, however, a lot of stuff on the news lately. Crime is rising with more and more cases each day, some even getting close to where you reside. Trying to push the negative thoughts away, you step into the rickety elevator. Empty of course because who would be taking the elevator this time at night? Usually, you take the stairs; you had no idea what possessed you to even take the elevator, but sometimes you just have to trust your gut. Holding onto your purse tight, attempting not to let any anxiety or distress show.
Right before the doors closed all the way, a hand slid its way in. At first glance, it was only a black glove. Adrenaline pumping immediately, you rummage through your purse looking for that mini can of pepper spray you always carried. You were on edge already, kicking yourself in the ass on the inside for even bringing it up.
When the doors opened, you didn't care who was there; you just let loose. Whoever it was fell into the elevator on the ground, holding his hands over his eyes. The doors close quicker than you expected them to, now trapped in here with mace in the air, the man you just maced on the ground until you get to your floor. Filled with fear, you get onto the other side to put some room between you and your "assailant". You didn't know where to look, at him or at the floor level. He was wearing some kind of costume; it didn't matter, though, people wear crazy stuff all the time at night.
"Hey, you always do this kind of thing when people get into the elevator?" If your jaw could make a sound while dropping, it would have, the amount of shock you were feeling at that moment was insane. Lo and behold, Night wing, an actual superhero known around most of Gotham. Batman's right-hand man, someone who's talked about constantly on social media, written in papers, in the news. He gets up off the ground, " Lucky for you, my mask shielded my eyes for the most part." Mouth still agape, you literally could not process what was going on right now. "What the HELL are you doing here?!" you were exasperated, tired, and the adrenaline had your heart beating damn near through your chest. "Uhm, what does it look like, im using the elevator." He laughs a bit.
"Don't you do parkour or something?" you remark. "Yeah, something like that." His smile quickly fades when the old elevator starts making a loud noise. Reacting purely out of fear, you had grabbed onto him, still clutching the mace in one hand, the other holding him. The lights flicker before going out completely. "Put that away before you hurt yourself." His firm voice sent chills down your spine, putting the mace up almost instantly.
He rushes into action, pressing buttons, trying the fire department. "Looks like the elevator is broken down. I can probably get out and get some help, but I'm a little preoccupied at the moment. It would be best if I climbed up the elevator shaft and you stayed here." He was looking for a good floor panel to go through. " Preoccupied?! Uhm, we're stuck in an elevator. This should be your top priority right now." Your eyes were wide open, you just wanted to go home, take a shower, and go to sleep. Not to be caught in the number one cliche of all time. "You think I'm here looking for apartments, use your brain, babygirl, if I'm here, there must be something going on." He's tapping on the walls, still looking for the best route to leave without exposing you. Unbeknownst to you, because you are employed, there are some gang members on the roof of your building. What the hell are they doing? Not the faintest idea, he didn't get into that. You were sure to see it on the news tomorrow morning for sure.
After a few minutes, he started to take the ceiling tiles apart. "Are you really going to leave me here?" The disappointment in your voice was very evident. Shaking now from fear again, you knew if there truly was something going on, you'd probably be safer with him than by yourself.
He was hanging onto the wall like a spider monkey; his back turned to you, keeping a relaxed composure as he quietly tussled with the old tile.
"Gonna miss me?" You didn't even know the color of his eyes. But you couldn't lie, the view was kind of breathtaking. "If I said yes, would you stay?" Your heart skips a beat. "Can't sorry, got to do my job." Done with the tile, looks all around to see if it was clear, jumps back down in there. "Do you live here?" he asked, waiting for a quick reply.
"No, I take this elevator for fun on my time off, yes, I live here." You huff. He looks around the beaten elevator. "This place is kind of a shithole. This elevator should not be in use." He was close enough that you could see a small frown on his face. Feeling a strange nervousness, you try to look anywhere but him. "Yeah, but my apartment is cute at least. And besides, look at where you're at, we're in Gotham and not all parts are pretty." Thinking that was the end of the conversation, it was not.
"What's your apartment number?"
"Why? You wanna walk me home and kiss me goodnight?"
That earned a laugh out of him. "I wanna see how cute it is when I'm done." Honestly, you thought he was joking, still deciding to tell him anyway. "7B." He was tall, taller than you, that's a fact. Invading your personal space, he comes over and grabs you by the shoulders. " The fire department should be here soon. Unfortunately, as much as I'd like to be stuck in this elevator with a pretty girl such as yourself, I do have to get going. I'll see you later though, yeah?" He didn't even give you time to reply before he lept through the hole. You crouched down in the opposite corner.
You had no idea how long it was really; in actuality, it was only a few minutes, but it felt like forever. The fire department did come and crack the door open for you. They all looked up and observed the hole. You ended up telling them due to how old the thing was and the abrupt stop that it collapsed all on it's own. Somehow, that felt easier than saying you were in here with the Nightwing.
At long last, you had finally made it to your apartment. Your first and only destination for the whole night. It was now in your grasp. Locking the door, checking it an ungodly amount of times, and going off to take the quickest shower of your life. Everyone has had that small fear now and then of being caught in a predicament naked.
Soon after dressing, you raced to your T.V to see if there was anything about what happened earlier.
"2 A.M news, a group of gang members gathered on an apartment building roof this evening, sacrificing animals. A cruel act indeed, by the time the police arrived, the criminals had already been dealt with. Who was it this time? Batman, Nightwi....'
You cut the T.V off, feeling relieved and a little sad. For some reason, you were hoping to see him again, but now that it's a done deal, that was probably not going to happen. He saw a civilian and calmed them down, nothing more, nothing less. Just as you were about to shut down for the night, you heard a little rustling on your fire escape.
Having your phone out just in case, also grabbed your trusty mace and headed for the door. What came as a surprise was a dozen white flowers sitting on your fire escape with a little note attached.
"Cute apartment;)." You knew who it was from; it wasn't quite the reaction you had in mind, but honestly, what did you really have in mind? You take the flowers inside, having to work tomorrow morning, no matter how the night before went for you. Chasing sleep as soon as possible, and luckily, it was caught without a struggle.
Waking up the next morning, hopping right back into my routine. That was how Gotham worked; most of the time, the Bat family was there to save the day, and people moved on with their lives. Most of the time. How lucky you were to be a part of that statistic.
Sitting down for a cup of coffee, you began scrolling on your phone, hoping to delve a little bit deeper into what happened last night, but there was an entirely different headline.
"Dick Grayson, son of multimillionaire Bruce Wayne, bought a rundown apartment building."
The building attached to the article was your building.
"Wonder why he did that," you thought. Chugging the rest of the coffee, leaving the cup right on the counter, and hopping off to get ready for work.
If you made it this far i hope you enjoyed as always.
