THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE
BEAUDELAIRE MANSION BURNS DOWN
Eleanor Schellstrop
THE DAILY PLANET
CHICAGO MILLIONAIRES DEAD IN FIRE
Cat Grant
THE MIDWESTERN ARCANE
THE BEAUDELAIRE FIRE: MISFORTUNE OR MAGIC?
Susan Rodriguez
THE GOTHAM HERALD
CHICAGO SOCIALITES BURN TO DEATH IN MANSION FIRE
Jack Ryder
…survived by their three children…
…Violet…
…Klaus…
…and Sunny…
The Poe house was relentless. That was the only word Violet knew that could accurately describe it. Klaus probably knew a better one, but he was asleep, snuggled up to baby Sunny on the tiny bed that Mr. and Mrs. Poe had provided to the trio as a bed. Violet had taken the floor. Klaus was the tallest, but she was the oldest, and it felt like the thing a proper older sister would do. So she lay on the hardwood floor, wrapped in the swimsuit and shawl she'd taken to the shore of Lake Michigan that morning, trying to not shiver. Shivering was a sign of weakness.
So was crying.
THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE
GOTHAM PHILANTHROPISTS SHOT
Thom Paine
THE DAILY PLANET
WAYNETECH OWNER MURDERED
Perry White
THE MIDWESTERN ARCANE
DID WEREWOLVES KILL THE WAYNES?
Margot LeFay
THE GOTHAM HERALD
WAYNES SHOT
Jack Napier
…survived by…
…their only son…
…Bruce Wayne…
The seatbelt clicked into place.
"Let's go home, Master Bruce."
Bruce Wayne slumped in his seat, wracked by sobs, blinded by tears. He heard Alfred start the car and felt it lurch into motion. There was a long silence, the car twisting and turning. Then, Alfred spoke up.
"What would you like for dinner, Bruce?"
Bruce sniffed and looked out the window. "I'm not hungry."
"No. But you will be."
"No I won't."
"Yes, Bruce, you will. You will be hungry, because the world keeps spinning and time keeps going on. I know you feel like the world has stopped. I know you feel like your life has fallen apart."
Alfred sighed. Bruce stared out the window at the buildings as they whizzed past.
"But it hasn't."
"Yes it has!"
"No. It. Has. Not." Bruce looked over and saw Alfred staring at him through the rearview mirror. "You are still alive. Your parents are dead, yes. And you are right to be sad- -brokenhearted. But I will not allow you to fall into a pit of despair and forget to live your own life."
"I don't want to live my own life!" Bruce howled, slamming his forehead into the window. "I want to die and be with them!"
"Bruce Robert Wayne! Stop that this instant!"
"No!" Bruce hurled himself forward, caught by the seatbelt. "You're not my fucking dad!"
The car swerved off the road, scraping onto the shoulder and stopping with a lurch. Bruce heard the seatbelt click, and Alfred twisted around to face him over the seat.
"I am not your father, Bruce. But I'm the closest thing you've got anymore. I am not trying to be cruel. I am trying to make sure you keep on living right, and that you are around to remember your parents and honor those memories. Your parents would not tolerate this sort of behavior and language, and neither will I."
The butler vanished back around his seat, the belt clicked back into place, and the car started again.
"H-h-hey Alfred?"
"Yes?"
"Can…can we have McDonald's f-for dinner?"
A brief pause.
"Certainly, Bruce."