Gotham City
Wayne Manor
07th January 07.30 a.m.
Bruce Wayne dropped a freshly delivered newspaper on his expensive dining table. The headlines said : 'THE FELINE FAMILY STRIKES AGAIN : GOTHAM NATIONAL BANK ROBBED AND EMPTIED !'
-"This is why vacations are not needed." Bruce scowled darkly and glared at his ward, Dick Grayson who was the one to submit the idea.
-"I tend to disagree with you on that point, Master Bruce. Vacations are the best way to refresh yourself. And they are, of course extremely relaxing." Alfred, his butler spoke up before sliding two plates of bacon, scrambled eggs and toasts on the table. Typical british breakfast.
-"Alfred's right, Bruce. Besides, you enjoyed the vacation, didn't you ?" Dick raised his eyebrows and smirked.
-"That is not the point. The point is that we should have stayed here. We could have prevented this !" Bruce was using his Batman tone, the one that could freeze you to death.
His ward and protégé finally gave in and accepted the blame.
-"I'm sorry, Bruce." The young teen lowered his head shamefully.
The billionaire sighed.
-"Don't be. I should be the one to apologize. These 'Felines' are starting to get on my nerves."
The Feline Family, another group of villains in Gotham. But there was something about them. Something different. They dressed similarly to Catwoman but unlike her, the ears, tail and claws weren't fake. They were real.
Bruce sighed again.
-"I'm going to upload those informations into the Batcomputer." He left before any of them could answer.
Dick just stared at the spot where he stood and went back to his breakfast. If he didn't hurry, he'd be late for school. Alfred placed a hand on the young boy's shoulder.
-"Do not worry, Young Master Dick, he will be fine."
-"I hope so, Alfred. It's the third time and we still haven't been able to stop them." The boy lightly gripped the strands of his hair before standing up to grab his bag. "We should go, Alfred. I don't want to be late on the first day after Christmas break."
Gotham City
Garfield Household
7th January 08.00 a.m.
-"CHARITY VANELOPE GARFIELD ! SI TU NE TE LEVES PAS MAINTENANT, TU VAS LE REGRETTER ( IF YOU DON'T WAKE UP NOW, YOU'RE GONNA REGRET IT ) !"
A young girl stood up so fast her head hit the nightstand.
-"I'M UP, MAMAN ( MOM ), I'M UP !" Charity then checked the hour and held back a gasp. "QUOI ( WHAT ) ? 8 o' clock already ? Merde, merde, merde ( Shit, shit, shit ) !"
She rushed to her dressing and pulled out a Gotham Academy uniform. Then, she went to the bathroom, just to find out it was occupied. The 14 years old girl knocked repeatedly on the door, cursing in French under her breath.
-"OPEN UP PLEASE, I'M LATE !"
-"That's your problem, not mine." Her older sister, Chastity aka Chase, answered archly and Charity could almost picture her smirk.
-"RAAAH !" The young girl knocked on the door with more force, punctuating each knock with a scream. "OPEN. UP. THE. FREAKING. DOOR !"
After 15 minutes of begging and endless knocking, the door finally opened on a very smug Chase.
-"Oh, pardon, petite soeur ( sorry little sister ). Didn't hear you there."
-"Va te faire foutre ( fuck off ), Chastity." The younger girl sent her a glare before storming in the bathroom. Charity hurriedly showered, put on her clothes before bursting in the kitchen.
-"Bonjour tout le monde ( Good morning everyone ) !" She greeted the people present in the room.
-"Papa ( Dad )." Charity waved at her father, Drew Garfield, who was currently making breakfast for the family. He was a physics teacher at Gotham North, which was a shame, according to her mother. He waved back, careful not to burn the food he was cooking.
-"Maman." The 14 years old girl, then, proceeded to peck her mother's forehead, Helliane Garfield, a renown psychologist. As always, she was busy reading the newspaper and barely responded to the greeting of her younger daughter.
-"Chastity." She coldly addressed her sister, who was two years older than her and a pain in the ass.
-"Et mon petit homme ( and my little man ) !" Charity smiled brightly at her little brother, Tristan Garfield, a seven years old boy with an obssession for wolves.
-"Presse-toi ( hurry ), Charity. You are already late." Her mother scolded her, blond eyebrows furrowed and brown eyes cold. Her mother was well known for hating tardiness.
Charity hardly had the time to eat before she was ushered to the car by her father, who pressed her lunch money into her hand.
-"Be good, darlings. Have a wonderful day." He kissed her forehead, then, did the same to his two other children.
-"I call shotgun !" Tristan sat quicker than the girls expected, taking place next to their mother, who looked at them impatiently.
-"On arrive, maman ! Au revoir, papa ! ( We're coming, mom ! Bye, dad ! )" Charity and Chastity took place in the back and just like that, they were off.