CJ1145

BRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING At long last, the lunch bell rang. Barbara Gordon practically sprang from her chair in the mad dash for the cafeteria. Her seat was the closest to the door in this class, so she managed to beat everyone else in her room. That, unfortunately, did little to stop the veritable tidal wave coming from every other classroom in Gotham High. The theater buffs down the hall were busy being crushed under the thunderous footsteps of Weylon Jones and his football meatheads. Cobblepot took meals in his personal room, having them hand-delivered by the insanely huge kid with the cap. "Seriously, does that guy even go here?" Barbara

1:00 AM. The storm had started only ten minutes ago, and already young Arnold Wesker found himself wrenched awake and forced to sit in shivering silence as the rain pounded on the roof of his little home. His parents were sound asleep, as always. Always. The space beyond his bed was dark and intimidating, but there wasn't much there. Maybe four feet, and then a wall. No posters. Arnold had little in the way of interests. There was a small desk tucked in the corner, with an old laptop plugged into the wall. A battered brass lamp, currently switched off, was his only source of light. Some brilliant architect had managed to construct a bedroom w

12:24 AM, read the clock. Commissioner Gordon rubbed his eyelids and sighed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good night's rest to steel him for this job. He could almost remember a time where he had wanted this job. In the safe recesses of his mind, he had a good laugh about that one. As an officer of the law, he should have known that no changes would come to his district easy. As an honest cop in Gotham City, he should have known that it would be nigh-impossible. Paperwork had rolled into his office all day, a steady stream of work work and more work, with a few migraines thrown in for good measure. An opened and half-spill

The clock on the wall of Professor Doll's classroom ticked by ever so slowly as the minutes passed. He droned on and on about subjects that no one present could really bear to pay attention to. The word "Euphrates" was mentioned once or twice, but that was the only stand-out section of the lecture. Barbara sat at her desk, tapping a pencil in rhythm with the ticking second hand. She looked over at the seat by the window. Empty. It was odd. She'd never been his friend, and certainly had little in the way of sympathy after his rampage through the school, but it was kind of sad to her to think that even at that very moment Garfield was rotting i

An October morning in Gotham City was like waking up and finding that hell had frozen over. The fact that this was also a Monday, and the first time any of Gotham High's students had been to school in a month brought down a cloud of misery so thick, commuters wondered if there was some city-wide plague spouting miasma into the air. Not the least of these weary children was Barbara Gordon, who at that moment found herself in her room, selecting an outfit for the day. At the moment, she was wearing three layers of clothing, the outermost was a thick maroon turtleneck. Style could wait until spring. In her left hand she clutched a blue jacket, a

The grandfather clock rang. It was accompanied by a dozen others of its kind, distant though ever-present in the lonely halls of Wayne Manor. The walls were a rich and exquisite maroon in almost every room, warmly lit by various fireplaces and carefully-arranged stained glass lamps of various sorts. The vigilant sentinel, Alfred Pennyworth patrolled the halls ceaselessly. If even a speck of dust were to be found in a corner, he pounced like a hungry lion. Feather dusters would perform their grim task with no remorse, and the speck would be little more than a pained memory. There were too many rooms in the manor to count, which made it a nigh

Red and yellow flames licked their way through the entire auditorium. Bruce coughed and stumbled, nearly prostrating himself on a row of chairs he had stumbled into before catching himself. He could hardly see, but his mind was already working like a machine. Think, Bruce, think. It thought. You've learned the layout, you've studied the schematics. Up on the stage… there's three exits behind the curtain. One of them leads out into the hallway. Nothing flammable there. It should be safe for a moment. He redirected himself, based on the chairs, to what seemed to be the front of the auditorium. Then, with all the speed he could muster Bru

It was a cool September morning in Corkshire wood, just an afternoon's walk down the path from Fillibog Hamlet. The folk there rested on the borders of at least three separate nations, but their isolation was so intense that none of them had ever bothered to officially lay claim to it. Therefore, they held some degree of autonomy. Taking advantage of this, their system of government was democratic, where each of the village's four hundred adult members had an equal say in the run of the town, and all dilemmas were solved by vote. The most recent town meeting, held in late August, had been on the troubles of bandits plaguing the town. The peo

An odd assortment of birds chirped and tweeted outside of Barbara Gordon's window as the sunlight first began to creep inside her room. She hadn't slept that night. Around midnight, her father received a call on the phone before dashing out of the house. He didn't say why, but he looked extremely worried as the door swung open and shut with his passage. She had waited all night for him to return, but had received no news. As the minutes ticked closer to the start of school, a knock on her door picked her up out of her daze. She rushed to her door, tripping over a pile of textbooks as she went, to greet her father. But as she twisted the knob

The old parlor of the late Commissioner Lynns erupted in crimson flames, as Firefly's assault burned everything within reach to cinders. Batman rolled back to escape the encroaching fire, its extent licking his exposed jaw. He reached down to his belt, flicking open of its compartments and retrieving a handful of the pellets he had demonstrated earlier. A flick of his wrist scattered the little balls, bursting with white smoke within the flames and extinguishing them. "Not bad, Batman." called Firefly from within the shrouded parlor. Under his breathing mask and goggles, he had little to fear from smoke. "Not bad at all. But I think you'll f