Who: Effie (Narrative) What: Thinking and hanging up clothes Where: NYC, New York When: December 27th, evening Rating: Low
Effie stood by her large wall of windows, looking out over the lights of New York. She worried at her lip as she stared down at her city, not even really seeing it, the lights from below blending in with the lights of the tree behind her.
There was something...wrong. Something not quite right upstairs and it was worrying her. She had started doing things without thinking...sending gifts under another name, ordering new gear, weapons, clothing...stealing.
Killing.
Even with the...men she had hired from Jack Hench, it was still without thought. She didn’t really plan anything, occasionally they did, but mostly it was spur of the moment, call them up and knock over something shiny (or that contained shinies).
A part of her almost wished she could blame it on something else...someone else, but it was still her under it all...just...a very different part of her that she never wanted to meet.
Had she always been broken? Or had her parents deaths done this? She knew her father- thief, liar, killer, narcissistic pain in the ass -and what she remembered from the files Tim would let her access during their time as partners, he had always been this way, at least, as long as Batman and Robin had known him…
But was criminality inheritable? Madness?
She had never paid attention to the nature vs nurture arguments, after all, she had always been the good kid, why bother caring when that argument was settled in her case.
...but what if it wasn’t?
What if in the end, this was what she was fated for? What if nurture couldn’t overcome nature and all that was left was a broken girl who stole things and pushed thugs out of moving cars when they annoyed her?
She twisted her engagement ring around her finger as she turned from the window, taking in the sight of the costume strewn around her. She picked up the green shell, draping it over her arm, bending to pick up the black and purple nomex body suit. She headed to her work room, accessing the closet Peter didn’t know about to start dressing the mannequin inside.
Once done, she traced a finger over the glittering gold question mark across the kevlar chest, giving a soft hum. “Enigma...huh…” Biting her lip again, she turned from the costume, closing the closet door, hoping that she would never see it again...but knowing deep inside, that she would.