So I’m going to try to follow the official prompts this year, and use traditional media as well! (But I’ll edit them in photoshop soooo it’ll be mixed media)
I can guarantee I won’t get to all the prompts, commissions are my priority right now! But when I find the time, I’ll do as many as I can! Happy October! :D
Hi guys, guess who’s back? Now as some of you may or may not know, my computer was broken for about two week. I got it back Monday but it had deleted the finished chapter 16 so I had to rewrite it. But here it is!!!!!! So for those of you who have been waiting patiently, this my gift to you. Though I do have an announcement: I am sorry to say that the tag list for Broken Angels is closed. I’m very sorry everyone. If you have any questions, suggestion, comments, or just want to talk, let me know. Thank you everyone who has liked, commented, and reblogged. I love you all! Hope y’all enjoy! Peace!
(French, Arabic)
“Are you sure everyone is out of the building? Teachers! Do a headcount! NOW!” Gordon yelled, the rain pouring down in torrents now. The storm that had started that morning, had quickly become a heavy downpour by noon, and by the time they had gotten the call to Gotham Museum, it had become brutal. He could barely be heard over the sound of the storm. The streets surrounding the museum where all blocked. The police had corralled the museum visitors away from the building, trying to make sure everyone had gotten out. With Scarecrow inside, they NEEDED to make sure there was no one inside. Media had shown up not long after they did, but this time, they, thankfully, were staying behind the barricade.
“No, you don’t understand! I need to get my students away from here. One of them is having a panic attack. If she stays here any longer, it’s going to escalate!” a woman shouted, and Gordon instantly recognized the voice. Marinette’s ‘teacher’. Whipping around, he spotting the woman without a problem. She was the only one arguing with his men. Storming up to the woman, Gordon could already feel his temper rising.
“What’s the issue?” he barked, causing both the officer and Bustier to jump.
“The problem is that your … officer, isn’t allowing my class to leave! Lila is having a panic attack and staying here is not going to help!” she hissed, eyes flashing with angry and annoyance. If she thought her ‘teacher’ glare would work on Gordon, she had another thing coming.
“Your student looks distressed at best, not in the middle of a panic attack. And I’ve seen plenty of them to know what one looks like. But if you’re really that concerned, let the paramedics look at her. They’ll know what to do. But we are not letting anyone leave until we know that Everyone is accounted for. Do I make myself clear?” Gordon growled, eyes flashing dangerously, his whole stance screaming authority.
“But …”
“But nothing. Did you even do a head count or did you only assume you have everyone?” he asked, the disdain clear. Bustier was about to answer, though was interrupted.
“Commissioner, we’re missing two students! Claude Chmakova and …” a man, who Gordon recognized as Michel Spinale, one of the main teachers at Gotham Academy and main supervisor for the French class. But a commotion at the barricades cut him off.
“Kid you can’t go back in there!” Hill shouted as he and Hoffman physically were trying to restrain the person.
“Let me go cretins! She’s still in there!” the anger and fear that rang though the boy’s voice caused Gordon’s heart drop.
“Like hell we’re letting you back in there!”
‘Please God, no.’ Gordon thought, looking back at the huddle of people, desperately scanning for a head of midnight blue hair. Anyone but her.
“MARINETTE IS STILL IN THERE!”
~
Earlier:
“May I remind everyone that we representing our school, and for some of us, our countries. Any and all misconduct will result in a warning. After that, any other offense will result with the individual or group being sent back to the bus. The offense will also go on your record.” Mr. Spinale informed the class as they exited the bus, waiting to head into Gotham Museum. “For the first portion of the day, we will be with the museum’s tour guide. Afterwards, you will be free to explore the parts that interested you the most. It will be in your best interest to listen to the guide and gather information as you will be doing a report. The assignment is part of your grade. If you fail to pay attention, that’s your fault.” He added, not entirely pleased that he had to talk over majority of the French class. Nearly all seemed more interested in the ‘claim’ that Ms. Rossi knew the director of the museum, and that ‘yes, of course she could get them into the more secure part of the museum’ but ‘she didn’t want to misuse her connections’. In all honesty, Mr. Spinale was hoping that that part of the class did something, if only to allow him the opportunity to set them straight. Especially Ms. Rossi.
He knew she was a liar the moment she started spewing tales that sounded to good to be true. As the saying goes, something that sounds too good to be true, probably isn’t. But it looks like Rossi’s class hadn’t learned that lesson. The exception being Marinette. Though, she had been timid all that morning and had refused to release Damian’s hand, not that the boy seemed to mind. Mr. Spinale nor the rest of the class could wrap their minds around what had happened that morning when the two of them entered.
~
The entire class was loud. The students were chatting away in their own little groups. Some of the French students had ventured outside their group and were chatting with various students, though sadly majority of them where talking, more so listening, to the young Italian diva. Mr. Spinale couldn’t help but compare the girl to a spider. The way she would spin her stories was so intricate and fascinating that it drew people in, allowing her to ensnare majority of her class, regardless of the countless holes she left.
It was around fifteen minutes until class was scheduled to leave, and the entire class was there save for two students. While that fact wasn’t alarming, it was unusual. Damian Wayne was normally one of the first students to arrive, though the past week had proven to be an anomaly. So when the classroom door opened, everyone glanced up, many eager with teasing remarks on their lips, only for their jaws to drop.
Striding in with the same manor he always possessed, was Damian. Nothing was out of place with him, appearing as he normally does. The bored yet intense eyes to his ‘I’m-better-than-you’ aura. Just as scary, just as obnoxious and intimidating. The only small difference was the girl attached to his hand.
Marinette trailed along behind him, holding onto his hand like it was the only thing keeping her from running. She looked up once to give them a small smile, only to lower her head again at the sight of everyone one staring at her in shocked horror. Damian, on the other hand, openly glared at the class, especially those from the French class who were the most active in ‘teasing’ Marinette while she was gone. As he guided her to their seats, the entire class watch in shocked fascination as Damian placed himself between Marinette and the rest of the class, glaring at anyone who he happened to see glancing their way. No one dared approach the table, not even Claude. They had never seen him like that, ever, and they could only assume that Protective Damian was Dangerous Damian.
~
Pushing those memories aside to analysis later, Mr. Spinale, along with Ms. Bustier, let their class up the steps towards the giant doors of Gotham Museum. Upon entering, he couldn’t help but smile at the exchange class’s reaction to the architect of the entryway. For all it’s faults, Gotham’s architecture was one of the city’s redeeming qualities. It was absolutely breathtaking! From the cathedral like ceiling and archways, to the beautifully carve gargoyles, to the gothic colours and designs, Gotham was a city like no other.
As the tour guide lead them through the building, providing them with the history of not only the building itself, but also on majority of the displays, Mr. Spinale only had to glare at a select few individuals. The warning in his glares were enough to scare the students into submission. Throughout the tour, Spinale noticed how Damian would tell Marinette bits of interesting, though little known facts about the museum and architecture, always making sure not to speak loud enough for others to hear. He never seemed to leave Marinette’s side, nor did he let go of her hand.
That was another development that shocked him. The fact that Damian was even allowing her to that close to him was a miracle. But when Mr. Spinale witnessed Damian grab the girl’s hand and squeeze it during the tour due to something Rossi and Cessiere whispered, he was seriously beginning to question reality. He had seen Damian use more physical contact in the last three-four hours then he had in the last three years. A strange and unsettling development to be sure, but not entirely unwelcome.
Spinale knew very little about the boy. What he did know was common knowledge. Damian was the youngest of the Wayne family, the only blood-child. He was known to be temperamental, had anger issues that he seemed to be dealing with, was arrogant, and blunt to the point were he would often come across as rude. So to see this change, to see him being gentle with someone, protective of someone, was, well, it was shock. To see a girl who so easily seemed to slip past the walls/ this boy had built up was staggering. The girl had to be magic.
The main tour ended a little after noon. Mr. Spinale released the class to find lunch, with the instructions that they travel in pairs and to meet back in the entrance in an hour. From there they could explore the museum on their own.
~
They had been on the main floor when it happened. Marinette had wanted to take a closer look at some of the artwork on the second floor. Claude, who managed to convince Marinette to let him tag along, seemed content to just fire off dozens of questions on what she was going to do for her assignment, only to explain in detail what he was going to do. It was in the middle of Claude explaining why his assignment was going to be on the Gotham Crystals, that Damian heard it.
“Ugh, look at her. A boy on each arm. How desperate for attention can that slut be?” the red head with glasses, Cesaire, scoffed, send a glare at Marinette before turning to Rossi. “I bet she’s filling their heads with all sorts of lies about you, Lila. The dirty rat.”
“I honestly don’t know what she has against me. I mean, I tried to be nice, but all she does is bully me. I know she’s jealous, but still.” Rossi said, not bothering to lower her voice, seeming to preen under the attention she was getting from her classmates that were with her, all nodding in agreement. “And you can’t be too hard on those poor boys, Alya. She has been living with one for a week unsupervised, and after all, men will believe anything under certain … circumstances. And you know the rumors …” she added, shooting a meaningful look at the girl in question, who had, unfortunately, heard what was said, instantly shrank into herself.
Damian saw red. How dare they! How dare they! As if they hadn’t done enough to Marinette already. They just had to spread slander about her. Here. In his presences. After he made it known that she was under His protection! A snare ripped tore from his throat, catching the attention of everyone in the vicinity. As the French class chanced a look in his direction, he watched with sick satisfaction as fear crept into their eyes. Murder burning brightly in his eyes as he glared at them.
“How dare you attack her honor! I always knew your class was stupid, but I didn’t think you were this idiotic. Spreading lies like that in her presence, let alone mine. But all of you, especially you, Rossi, have shown me a completely new level of stupidity I didn’t think was possible.” Damian hissed, his tone turning mocking as he saw everyone freeze.
“Listen here, brat! I don’t know what that slut told you but …” Cesaire started to say, eyes flashing as she hugged the now crying Italian before she was cut off.
“Shut your filthy mouth, harlot, unless you want to lose your tongue, or worse!” Damian yelled, his voice carrying though out the building. The occupants of the museum, especially those in the immediate vicinity didn’t dare move. The reverberations of angry Arabic echoed throughout the building, shattering the peaceful atmosphere.
“Ms. Bustier, that is a warning for your class. I suggest you gain control. You, come with me.” Mr. Spinale ordered, dangerously close to losing what little patience he had left .
“But Marinette was the one …” Lila started to say, only to be silenced by the Gothamite teacher.
“Ms. Marinette had nothing to do with what happened. You all, especially you two, were not only bullying her, but slandering her name. All of which are not tolerated by G.A. or by me. And you all will be punished accordingly. You should be grateful I am letting you finish this field trip. You will stay with your teacher and away from Marinette. If any of you wander off or harass her again during the duration of this trip, you will have more trouble then you’ll know what to do with. Do I make myself clear?” he hissed, struggling to hold his temper in check. He didn’t need to cause a bigger scene. The shaky, fearful nods he received were enough. Grabbing Damian by the arm, he dragged the boy away from the crowd to a more secluded spot.
“What were you thinking? Before you go off saying I don’t know what happened, yes, I do. I know what they said. I get it, your protective of Marinette. What those two said pissed you off. And they will be punished accordingly. But you could have gotten kicked out. Who would look out for her then? Damian, that girl relays on you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how she hasn’t let go of your hand. That girl is scared and right now you seem to be the one thing holding her together. Claude will only be able to hold her together for so long. Do not, I repeat, do not let yourself get kicked off this trip.” Mr. Spinale ordered. A few days ago, Damian would have taken offense to being order around and reprimanded by his teacher, but now, he was strangely thankful. He seemed to understand, and for that, Damian was grateful.
He was going to state as much, when an explosion shook the building, throwing everything into chaos.
~
“Damian, we can’t let you back in there, you know that!” Gordon yelled over the roaring of the storm. Multiple officers were actively hold the young Wayne back while Gordon tried talking sense into the boy. They couldn’t send anyone in there, not until Scarecrow made his demands known. Not when there were two civilians in there. Minors no less.
“NO! You don’t understand! I promised Jason I would keep her safe! I swore she could trust me to keep her safe!” he yelled, thrashing, or attempting to, though the grip of the three officers didn’t allow for much movement. The sharp sound of a slap rang through the air, snapping Damian out of his panic induced trance. All eyes snapped to Hoffman as she spoke.
“Listen kid, if Marinette is half as smart as she was at the station, she’ll be fine. One of your classmates is with her right? Then he’ll let her know what to do and what not to. But we need you to take a chill pill. Do you understand? Panicking is not going to do anything.”
“The officer’s right. Panicking will solve nothing.” A voice said as four bodies dropped onto the pavement beside the crew. Looks like the bats were finally there. “Commissioner, what’s the situation?”
“We got Scarecrow in there with at least four of his men, plus two hostages, Claude Chmakova from G.A. and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who’s part of an exchange program from France.” Gordon said, taking notice on how the entire bat-clan seemed to freeze for a moment at the mention of Marinette. Red Hood, who seemed to have been the most tense, was the first to snap back.
“I’m gonna kill that damn freak!” he hissed, gripping his guns as he started for the stairs, only to be stopped by Nightwing.
“Hood, we can’t just go in there. We have no idea where they are. You going in there guns blazing will get them killed!”
“I am not gonna wait out here and do nothing while she is in there!”
“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it! We just need to …”
Nightwing never got the chance to finish as the ground began to shake, the force throwing everyone off balance. Everyone, especially those with ties to Gotham, felt the very foundations of Gotham groan, as if something was waking up. A sound that could only be compared to the shrieking of missiles, tore through the air, before a fiery, blue light exploded from the building, leaving chaos in its wake.
Hi everyone! So here’s chapter 15. Sorry it’s so short, but my hand is cramped from painting a house. The next chapter will be longer will have a lot in it. Anyway, I want to say thank you to everyone who like, commented, and reblogged the last one. I think I tagged everyone, but as I said before, I did lose my tag list and I’m still finding people. Again, if you have any questions suggestions, or comments, let me know. Hope y’all enjoy! Peace!
It had been exactly a week since ‘the accident’. The station was no less busy than normal for a Monday, but everyone seemed listless. Apparently the station seemed to lack any sort of internal drama so Hoffman decided to rat out her desk mate who had been playing Galaga on his computer instead of doing his paperwork. That had caused Jackson, her desk mate, to inform the entire department that Hoffman was the one who was responsible for stealing all the unlabeled lunches in the staff room. They still weren’t on speaking terms, but Gordon was thankful for the break in bickering.
One of the Wayne lawyers had come by the station, informing Gordon that Marinette would be staying with the family. They also stated that if Marinette’s class or teacher caused the GCPD any trouble, to refer them back to them and they would deal with it. Unsurprisingly, but the fact still grated on Gordon’s nerves too no end, was the fact that Bustier hadn’t called at any point during the rest of the week. While Gordon knew that the Wayne’s would have let her know of the changes, the fact that the teacher didn’t seem to care to at the very least let the police know about the change was disheartening.
He still had a few of the staff digging into the night Jason was found, looking for any abnormal activity or incidents. So far, the only thing they had come up with was that the culprits were never caught or identified. There were also no witnesses to what had happened. While it wasn’t uncommon for there to be no witnesses in Gotham, the fact that the attack happened in one of the few places that had no cameras caused some red flags. It seemed too clean for it to not be planned. Whoever did it, knew what they were doing.
“No, don’t give them to Hoffman, she’ll eat them all!”
“Oh please! I’ll share, Galaga. You need stop accusing other of crimes they haven’t committed yet. And you call yourself a cop? Yeash.”
“Really? Then let me have some.”
“Never said I’d share with you.”
‘I knew the quiet wouldn’t last long.’ Gordon muttered, shoving the report away before walking out of his office to see what the two stooges where fighting about now. The first thing he saw was something that he knew he would never forget. Hoffman held a box in one hand as high above her head as she possible could, while pushing Jackson away by his face with her other hand, leaning way from him as he tried to snatch the box. Honestly, it looked like something straight from a school yard, only with officers in uniform, completed with the rest of the station just watching but no one attempting to intervene.
The second thing he notices was as much of as surprise, but a more pleasant one. There, dressed in Gotham Academy’s colours, stood Marinette watching the two clowns fight over whatever was in the box, a smile etched on her face.
“Hoffman. Jackson. Can you two idiots try to give this station a little bit of dignity?” Gordon asked, a small smile barely showing itself at the sight of how both froze mid-shove before letting each other go, muttering a faint apology.
“Marinette, how are you doing? You going to school today?” Gordon asked, turning his attention to the girl. She looked better. Not by a lot, but you could see the difference. The swelling in her face had disappeared. The bruising from the hand print had faded some, blending into the rest of the bruising. The bruising itself was in the process of changing from purple to yellow. In his opinion, the changing bruises looked worse then solid purple. Gordon could see the evidence of make-up, allowing the bruising to look less extreme, not that he blamed her. If she was going to school, the last thing she’d want would to be stared at. The only thing that didn’t seem to change was the discolouration of her eye. Her right eye was still as red as it was the last time he saw her.
“I … I’m better. A lot better. I had just wanted to come by to say thank you. For everything everyone did. And … and I brought some pastries. That … that’s what Officer Hoffman’s holding.” Marinette said, her voice low and gentle, as if speaking too loud would get her in trouble.
“Well that explains it.” He said, humor in his tone as he gave Hoffman an unimpressed glance.
“I … I’m sorry. I didn’t know if it was allowed or not but Jason said it would be fine and I didn’t mean to get anyone in trouble I just wanted to do something as a thank you and …” Marinette stuttered, voice growing slightly panicked as she rambled.
“Marinette, it’s perfectly fine. It’s not against any rules. Ok. Just breath.” Gordon said, making sure to keep his temper in check. If she went off like this right off the bat, whatever damage had been done was deep. As if she would get trouble for being thoughtful. “I just said because Hoffman has a reputation of eating everything that comes in.”
“I can not be expected to work these hours without something to eat. Besides, I’m not the one to worry about. Hill …”
“You want to finish that sentence, Hoffman?” Hill yelled, shutting Hoffman up with the unsaid threat.
Gordon had never wanted to strangle his men as badly as he did now. They were never this relaxed around others. Frankly, it was unprofessional and embarrassing the watch. But with the laugh they were able to extract from the nervous girl in front of them, he was willing to let it slide. This time.
“I can’t stay long. I have school and Damian’s waiting outside for me. I just wanted to drop these off and say thank you. Oh, this one’s for you Commissioner. And Bruce wanted me to give you this. He said it was important.” Marinette said, handing Gordon a separate box along with a rather large envelope.
“Are you sure you’re up for going? I’m sure the teachers wouldn’t mind giving you another day or two.” Gordon asked, taking the box and envelope, surprised by the weight of them.
“Jason said the exact same thing. And while the teachers may not mind, I do. I’ve already missed a week and I’m already going to be in enough trouble as it is. Plus I … I came here to learn.” Marinette said, a smile lighting up her face. “Besides, the class is touring Gotham Museum today and I wouldn’t miss that for anything.”
“Well, if you get too bored, you can always come hang out down here.” Gordon said, half joking. While he was happy Marinette was feeling up to rejoining the class, he didn’t like it. Not after what he had witnessed.
“I’ll keep that in mind. I gotta get going, but I’ll see you later, ok?” Marinette said, turning to head out. Pausing after two steps, she turned around again catching Gordon’s eyes for a moment. “Commissioner, even though you don’t see it, you really are making a big difference. In some ways, even more then the Bats are.”
With those last words of encouragement, Marinette quickly disappeared through the doors of the station just as thunder rumbled through the city.
“She is like a ray of sunshine.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh come on. You seriously can not tell me that you did not feel that. As soon as she came in, everything felt lighter. Brighter. And you got a special box of pastries. If that’s not sunshine reincarnation, then I don’t know what is.”
“Hoffman, we can talk about Gotham’s sunshine later. Now did you find anything?” Gordon asked, agreeing with Hoffman’s description completely. The station had felt brighter with Marinette there.
“Fine, we’ll finalize the stations adoption of her later. And as for your question, no I did not find anything in the files, but I did find something interesting in the emergency call logs.
“Emergency calls?” Gordon asked, ignoring Hoffman’s quip about adoption. Instead, he divided his attention between the contents of the envelope Marinette had given him, and Hoffman’s explanation.
“Yeah. For a solid fifteen minutes, there was a little over forty calls reporting an ‘earthquake’. Almost all the calls stated that air in their houses shifted and that they felt the ground rumble. Freaked them out. I was listening to the recordings and they were legitly scared, Gordon. Anyways, interesting fact: all these calls came within a three mile radius from where Jason was found.” Hoffman said, sounding pleased with herself
“This is perfect!” Gordon exclaimed, startling the personal within ear shot.
“It better be. My eyes are dry and bug-eyed from staring at the screen so long.”
“Not that Hoffman, but we can still use that. Look into it and see if they notice anything else out of the norm. But this,” Gordon said, waving around the paper as if it was the winning ticket. “This is perfect. We got our permit!”
Hi Everyone! Sorry this chapter took so long to come out. The last month was crazy for me, but January looks like things are slowing down so that should mean more time for me to write. (If I don’t procrastinate) So, as some of you know, I lost my tag list, so if you were not tagged, please let me know by either messaging my or sending me an ask. Thank you everyone who has been patent with me and are following Broken Angels, your support means the world to me! If you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, please let me know. And just to let you know, even if i dont respond, i read every comment or ask that comes in, and they always make my day! Anyway, hope ya’ll enjoy! Peace!!
The moments following the explosion were a chaotic mess. At first, they thought the explosion was part of a new fear toxin. But, when no one showed any symptoms, well, that’s when people started to freak out. If it wasn’t the fear toxin, then what was it?
The first cameraman to recover was from GNN. The sound was nothing but static and the picture a little shaky, but Gotham and the rest of the world watched, gaping at the scene that unfolded. The giant windows of Gotham Museum, which had always been considered one of the most beautiful in North America, with its stain glass pigments and unique cuts, were shattered from the inside out. Buildings surrounding the museum were swaying dangerously. The camera spanned out, allowing viewers to witness the crowds of people struggling to pick themselves up. The sight of the destroyed buildings, glass and wreckage strewn about, cars totaled, silenced the horrified audience. The streets of Gotham, from that one camera lens that had miraculously survived the blast, looked like a war zone. The world watched as Gotham reeled from whatever caused the blast, uncertain of how to react. They saw what looked like blue wisps rain down slowly from the buildings, gently running down whatever it touched before pooling on the ground, vanishing into the ground.
Slowly, sound started to filter through the nearly broken mics, instead of static, it sounded more like a garbled mess. As if someone was speaking through a bad connection. For a brief moment, the camera frame caught a group of students, most appeared to be in a daze, as if they couldn’t understand what happened, and one girl in particular was well on the way to full blown hysteria. It caught the dazed looks of the other students before swinging around back to the front of the museum, catching a figure stumble through the door.
~
The pain in Jason’s head was nothing compared to the emotional terror he was experiencing. His pixie, His sister was in the building with a lunatic that took pleasure in the terror of others. His tiny, sweet sister, who couldn’t hurt anyone in the slightest without feeling guilty, was in the same building as that straw-stuffed coward. In the building that just exploded!
He needed to get up. His sister needed him! She needed him, damit! But he couldn’t move. It felt like ever muscle in his body had been electrocuted. But wasn’t a numbing pain, no, he could feel everything. From the layers of grim that was coating him, to the scratches, to his spazzing muscles, to that strange, cool sensation that rolled off him. But. He. Couldn’t. Move!
“…ood? Red Hood, can you hear me?” someone asked, though the voice was muffled as a face came into view. Nightwing’s face became clear, though he was covering in dust and debris as much as he was.
“N’wing, I can’t move.”
“Figures, a few of others are down too, Bat’s included!”
“Nettie. I gotta get … you gotta get,” Jason said, struggling to sit up, stifling the curse as he force his muscles to work. He needed to get Marinette out of there!
Before Dick could answer or attempt to persuade him to stay down , a shout drew everyone’s attention to the front of the museum. Dozens of heads turned to watch a figure emerge from the broken building. Stumbling down the giant stairs of the museum was a teen boy carrying a limp body.
“Someone help, please!” the boy shouted, frantically making his way down the broken steps. As they drew closer, others could see the haunted look in the boy’s eyes. They could see the fear, the concern, the complete panic as the person he was carrying began to shake.
Oh God,
Jason watched as Commissioner Gordon limped towards the two, taking the girl from the boy.
Please no,
“Did she inhale any of the fear toxin?”
Anyone,
“No, s-sh-she was injected with the serum.” The boy said, “Please, you have to make sure Nettie’s ok!” he added tears pouring down his face as a set of medics rushed over to look him over.
But,
“Get me an antidote, NOW!” Gordon barked, gently cradling the girl as he shouted orders.
Her!
At the mention of Nettie’s name, something sparked inside Jason. The pounding in his seemed to double, the only thing he could hear was the blood pulsating through his skull. Everything sharpened into focus into startling clarity as his vision narrowed. That was HIS sister! His sister that was shaking in Gordon’s arms. His sister that looked dead when she was carried out of the museum. His sister that was cry and screaming incoherently because of the nightmare Scarecrow forced her to live. Blood lust tore through his veins with such an intensity that, even in his rage filled mind, scared him. The voices in his head were torn between going in there and killing the monster that dared touch what was HIS to protect, or tearing HIS sunshine from Gordon’s and getting her as far away from here as possible. The latter almost won, but one part of his brain, the logical, sensible side that was magically still working, reminded him that he was Red Hood right now, not Jason. He couldn’t just go to her. Doing so would not only put her under more stress or shock, but it would also paint a bigger target on her back. And he could not, would not, allow any one to use her in order to get to him.
Looking over at her, Jason watched as Gordon held Nettie close, allowing her to cry as he did his best to calm her down. Watching the two of them, he and the voices both agreed that she would be safe with Gordon until he was done. Right now, he had a scarecrow to unstuff. And the strawman wouldn’t be coming out again for a very, very long time.
~
The soft stroke of the brush across the canvas was the only noise in the room as the artist brought the image to life. Just as his ancestors had done before him. Though many would say the image was too clean, too perfect, he would disagree. Perfection is what his family strove for. Perfection in all aspects of themselves. Though they had sadly, not been perfect for some generations. Something vital was missing, all due to a curse, a restriction placed on them. Yet the family still strove for perfection in all aspects, and he was the perfect heir. All he needed was the last piece of the puzzle, and then, he would reach a level of perfection none in his family had reached in generations, not since the Fall.
Stroke, stroke, dip, stroke. Each stroke was perfect. Ever placement, deliberate. And then he felt it. A slight shift in the atmosphere, powerful, wild, raw, and . . . unharnessed. He missed a stroke. The line went off course, destroying the painting, tainting the perfection of it. A knock was the only warning before the door was opened and a young man slipped in.
“Sir, we have activity. It’s the same reading as before, but this time it’s much stronger scale.”
“Did you track it?”
“We did. They’re in Gotham, America.”
“… Start the preparations. We leave immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
The individual stood in place for a moment, savouring the fading feeling of the power, an almost impeccable smile on his lips.
“I finally found you, little angle, and in a place of demons. Quite … intriguing.”
My final piece for @bat-famzine! This was such a fun project and I’m really glad I could be a part of it. Also if anyone still wants a copy, but missed pre-orders, the pdf version is still available~
