Snow's look for the Haute Couture themed round 2 of the 's annual pagent.

This... this was just plain fun!
As a few of the contestants went above and beyond with their descriptions to not only make this a design contest but a whole batman-verse experience I've been inspired to do the same!

I normally write in 3rd person in general but I'm getting into the habit of writing Snow in 1st person to get a better feel for her voice

(also if you're interested this is the song I imagine Snow walking too [link] )

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The bass was pounding, thump thump thump with a sticky beat that had the crowd swaying unconciously. It was a song I'd never heard before, my own vinyl collection is severly limited to thrift shop 50s tunes. The singer's (was it really singing?) affected accent blairing as she drilled the audience to take their medication in one breath and then to watch their backs in the next. I liked it.

I hit the runway, third on the list of contestants, blood pumping loud enough to drown out the crowd as cameras start flashing and I experience the odd sensation of feeling like a complete bad ass without maiming anyone. My feet stomp, the candy-apple cane my couturier designed for me swung above my head as I work it in the ridiculously impractical shoes she's slapped on my feet. Stamp, stamp, stamp and I'm at the end of the runway. I swing the cane down and hit my first pose, flash the side view of the outfit the lighting making the PVC so shiny it looks almost wet in the glare and then strike my final pose, one I learnt from two weeks in the Riddlers employ, working-with-a-cane-one-oh-one.

I start my journey back up the runway and for a moment I've forgotten my friends backstage, my enemies in the audience and the parole officer waiting at the door to escort me back to my cell and I'm feeling about ready to smash some heads in and loot some bitches. I turn, blow a final kiss to the faceless crowd and then I'm backstage and the next contestant's being announced.

The scared looking assistant moves to hurry me to the green room, she's not used to being around so many Arkhamites clearly, I snap my teeth at her and she shrieks. Laughing to myself I stroll backstage and chat to the rest of the girls, admiring their costumes and bitching about the judges. I relax against the dressing table and make sure the pins holding my wig in place are secure as we watch the rest of the contestants on the flat screen provided for us.

Still that pulse is right there at the back of my mind; that little rush of adrenaline that says I won't be going home in chains tonight.

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