Mister Hattings is strange man. He was my mothers' friend in childhood, so when I decided move to Gotham, problem with flat was solved. It remains only to agree to wipe the dust with his collections of glass owls, not to touch the rare editions of Ninja Turtle CDs and comics and once every two weeks feed his black-red tarantula, the size of a small plate. Which, by the way, was called MJ. This is short for Michael Jackson. This teddy monster had a strange habit of moving backwards like a cancer, and Mr. Hattings for some reason decided that it looked like a moonwalker.

Anyway, how did I say — very strange. And this was not explained. He divorced his wife a long time ago, but he regularly visited his daughters in California.

So, having spent the owner of the flat in the morning and promised, that me and MJ will be friends, I've closed the door and began to gather. Considering that my uncle was supposed to arrive somewhere around ten past eight, I had about half an hour left. My favorite "Oh, I have lot of time!" now made me turn around and, pulling off a heavy dressing gown, went to the kitchen for tea. Mr. Hattings's apartment turned out to be small but with sparkling individuality. In addition, I was delighted with the brick wall in the kitchen, painted in a peach color. In addition to the kitchen, there was also a living room, which I had already successfully turned into my fortress, starting with the fact that I had stopped folding the sofa on which I was sleeping.

Because of the modest layout, I perfectly heard what was said on television in another room. And when a news release was broadcast, I immediately jumped up and, almost knocking over untouched tea, rushed there.

"The six prisoners who left Arkham yesterday are still free. About the events that took place a couple of minutes ago near the Gotham newspaper building - our special correspondent - Elizabeth Jones"

The picture switched to the face of some blonde. Behind her, people fussed: policemen and doctors. Yellow bounding tape fluttering in the wind. What happened there? I noticed that almost did not blink. Everything around has become tense.

"A few minutes ago, seven workers were dropped by unknown persons from the roof of the Gotham newspaper building. The following shots may shock." — the camera rather closely showed the first frame, where a man is flying from the roof, followed by seven corpses in straitjackets, on which red letters were folded into the word: "Maniax", and at the end an exclamation mark, apparently, for more emphasis.

What idiot came up with it? Guys, to be called "maniax" is not original. Almost as sadly as the "Sinister Six." It somehow opens all your cards. Although the spectacle of seven people, under whose bodies blood had already begun to gather on the asphalt, was indeed terrible.

"Presumably, this atrocity was committed by escaped dangerous criminals, among whom was Robert Greenwood — who killed and then dismembered ten women. And…"

A picture of a really frightening man appeared on the screen, with a wasp nest on his head and such a wild look that I felt bad. It is clear why uncle insisted yesterday so that I would return home. But I can't sit here all the time. At that moment, a telephone rang somewhere under the pillows. And it seemed to me that it was incredibly deafening, because I jumped in surprise and immediately rushed to look for him. Photos continued to appear, but I did not see them, because I was looking for a mobile phone.

"Aaron Helsinger, Barbara Keane, Jerome Valeska "- continued to list on TV, at the same time showing the track record of these pretties. The phone shut up for a couple of seconds before I fished it out of the graveyard of quilts and padding polyester.As soon as I unlocked my phone, I immediately received an SMS.

"I'm sorry, I can't take you."

Well, I understood that. He probably is somewhere out there now, trying to figure everything out and punish the bad guys. Such an irrepressible feeling of pride suddenly filled me.

"I saw the news. Nothing, I just going to visit a new cafe at an angle along the way. Good luck with catching any assholes xxx."

"Be careful"

"You too"

Here it is - a family atmosphere. When you wish your uncle to catch all the crazies. I glanced at my watch, realizing that by that time I should have already been dressed, and not paced around the house in a t-shirt and underwear. When I returned to the TV again, the news had already switched to something less disturbing, and I turned it off. Just before going out, I even ventured to get closer to the MJ terrarium and, making a playful-disgruntled face, turned the camera on us and took a picture. For some reason, the spider shrank and only occasionally moved its paws, as if making it clear that it did not die.

As a caring nephew, I bought two coffees, and then another chocolate. I've drunk my own on the way. If everything is at least half as serious as it is shown on TV, then it probably will not interfere with something that supports the brain and soul. And what could be better than coffee brought by someone else, for which you did not have to stand at eight in the queue?

True, to my disappointment, there was no uncle in the precinct. I was even upset because I was late because of all this. Anyway, it was somehow unpleasant for me to be in the area where I knew only ... no one. Some of the officers looked up, not missing a chance to measure me with a rating glance, as if deciding whether I would fit in. But most were busy with their own business.

I took out a chocolate bar and found a place for it on the table so that it stood leaning on the monitor. Then I pulled off one sticker, quickly wrote on it "Now there is someone to monitor the optimal balance of chocolate in your body :)" and pasted it on the monitor, drawing the arrow down. Interestingly, does Dr. Tompkins monitor the necessary dose of chocolate for my uncle? We definitely need to talk.

It was just when I got up, as I immediately received the personal attention of commissioner Essen, stepping toward me.

— You were late the first day, — she said mildly, but rather strictly.

— Sorry, I tried to snatch victory in the queue in an unequal fight for coffee, — I smilled — Do you want coffee? Black like my soul.

Lord, what are you talking about ?! It didn't seem to the commissioner to be witty at all, she only raised an eyebrow and portrayed a stunning poker-face, if in the literal sense, then know that she is on the verge of disappointment in me. I hurried to fix it.

— Kidding, I haven't got a soul. Kidding, — my humor did not find the proper response. Damn, I was hoping for applause.

— Thank you, I will refuse - politely, but somehow she responded coldly and handed me a folder, — You must know Mr. Galawan. He had some problems with documents on the chairmanship of the Chamber of Commerce.

— I will conduct his case? — I replied with sincere joy, rounded eyes.

— You just need to take these papers to him.

My ego, recently jumping with delight, has now collapsed and burst into angry tirades. Well, apparently it looked like I ate a lemon. With pepper. Chile.

— But I'm interning as a lawyer, not as a courier.

— Right. And the key word here is "you are interning," — the commissioner answered, and throwing an eloquent look in my direction, she went back to her office, — There is an office address. And do not linger.

I was frankly offended. I have already managed to dream that from the first day I will be entrusted with something important. It is very difficult to descend from heaven to earth. I even looked at the chocolate with a desperate look, wondering if I should eat it myself. I can say to the uncle that mourned the collapse of hope.

— Want some advice?

From an unexpected voice behind me, I sharply turned around and met my eyes with unfamiliar brown eyes. The guy on the other side of the table smiled.

— Don't argue with her. In general, it's better not to argue with anyone now. In light of recent events, everything is on the nerves.

— And I thought, that psichopaths escape prisons regularly in a few months and it's normal, — I tried to laugh it off in order to drive away bad thoughts and not to think that all this commotion arranged by "Maniacs" is really a terrible thing.

But the guy turned out to be much more lenient than my boss and laughed shortly. And then he stretched his hand across the table. I realized that I still had coffee in one and folder in another. Deciding how to free my hands, I put down the folder before responding to the handshake.

— I'm Stuart. From the ballistics department.

— Cool. Name like a mouse from the movie. Would you like some coffee?

He laughed, apparently, at first deciding that I said "cool" about his position. And then, gratefully nodding, he took from my hands a long-suffering glass with already cooled coffee.

— And you must be Kim Gordon?

— Evans, — I corrected, — Gordon is my mother's maiden name.

And then, as if to confirm that I was not lying about the last name, there was a commissioner Essens voice. God, why am I not an ostrich and cannot stupidly stick my head in concrete?

— Мs. Evans, you still here?

I pulled my head into my shoulders, turned to a new acquaintance, and suddenly noticed that apart from a funny name, there was nothing special about him. Short stature, ordinary blond hair, ordinary eyes. Probably, I met this on the street, then in a second I would not even have remembered him. But in fact, he still managed to be cute.

— I would love to talk more, Mr. Stuart Little, but it's time to run and make this world a little brighter with my emerging, — I playfully winked at the guy and hurried to the exit.

Okay, maybe the courier is not that bad? I'll make the right acquaintances, who knows.

Holy naivety.