Likes: blending in, military boots, practical clothing, herbal tea, having something to focus on, a sense of belonging
Dislikes: too much make-up, anything too fancy, not being alert, wasting time, people that draw attention to themselves or her, not being able to trust anyone
Growing up, Johanna’s home life was a drag. Her family was constantly fighting each other over things she didn’t understand, so when she was nine, she took matters into her own hands and ran away. She wandered the streets of Gotham City for nearly a year before she was found by the Maroni family. They took her in and trained her to do their dirty work. She first assisted on a hit when she was twelve, and by the time she was fifteen she was making solo kills. She’s worked for some of the other crime families in Gotham during their shaky truces, but it’s to the Maroni’s that she claims allegiance. Lately she’s felt some pressure to lay low, if not drop her crime life altogether, so she’s been taking a break from her hitman duties. As her adoptive family, the Maroni’s are okay with that – at least, for now.
Model: Clemence Poesy
Based on: Joe Chill
Taken by: @dustofthestar, hopefully
1. Johanna Chisolm
2. Georgia Lyons
3. Victoria Freeman
The trigger was cool against her finger. She exhaled, staring intently at the man in her crosshairs. He was nameless to her, just another unlucky s.o.b. that the family needed out of their way. By tomorrow she wouldn’t even remember his face.
She squeezed the trigger and the man dropped. The street emptied impossibly fast, even the man’s acquaintance changing direction mid-stride, before his words died on his lips. That was Gotham City. The extent that anyone cared about what had just happened was to get as far away as possible, and hope that they weren’t next on the list. It was just one of the aspects that made even daytime hits easy in this town.
Now it was time for her to scurry on as well. She packed up her rifle, which, when disassembled, was small enough to fit into her purse. There was nothing else in the room but a chair. She opened the door to leave, and found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.
Johanna woke with a gasp. Her body felt leaden, and the sheets around her were soaked with sweat. She stared up at the ceiling, gray in the early morning light, waiting for the paralysis to wear off. Another dream, just a meaningless mash-up of hits past. Nothing more.
Eventually she rose. By this time her apartment was awash in sunlight. It lit up the small space and danced off the blonde in her hair. Still in her pajamas, Johanna made some tea and toast, and sat down in front of her computer. It was time to find a new job.