Disclaimer: It saddens me deeply that I own none of this.
A/N: Hey guys! I managed to write out a nice, long chapter for you…hope you like it, and at least find it somewhat humorous. I try to be funny, but I don't know if it always works…hopefully it does. Bear in mind that while this is a parody of the movie, not all of the events will appear exactly as they are in the film. Since they are in high school, I'm going to include normal high school things as well. That's all. Enjoy, and please review!
CHAPTER THREE: BATMAN IS NOT AMUSED.
Monday, September 7, 2009
"Attention all faculty and students," the voice of Gill Loeb reverberated through the halls over the PA system as the population of Gotham City High flooded through its doors, "Due to a major accident this morning, the cafeteria has been blocked off until further notice. An alternative lunch will be provided in light of the lunch ladies' absence. We are sorry for any inconvenience this may cause, but we did not foresee a bus crashing into the side of the building."
A murmur erupted within the student body, although no one was particularly shocked. Not even the freshmen, who caught on quick and knew all the rumors before ever stepping into the school. After an event like this, there were the people who couldn't care less, and the people who had to get the inside scoop.
Nolan sighed, keeping his place near the entrance, while those people made a mad dash for the cafeteria doors, which they would find chained up and padlocked, with caution tape strung around the perimeter. Gordon was down there now, probably doing his best to keep the nosy teenagers at bay. There was no doubt in his mind that Mike Engel was leading that pack, plotting out the next headline of Gotham Today, the tabloid newspaper that the administration "didn't know about." Nolan had already given him a segment for the homeroom news program, what more did he want? Admittedly, the principal had been known to furtively pick up a copy of the tabloid, if nothing but for amusement, but the majority of it was pure crap.
"Also, be advised: there will be a random locker check this afternoon. You know the drill."
Meanwhile, in the rear of the building near the parking lot, a gray minivan pulled up to the alley outside the back doors where multiple dumpsters were overflowing with garbage. Because most of the maintenance staff had…disappeared and none had been hired yet, all of the crap left over from last year had been piled in them and left for the animals to scavenge. A lanky, gawky-looking figure dressed in a tailored suit waited by the dumpsters, swatting away flies.
The minivan stopped, tires screeching across the pavement. Out jumped a couple of teenage boys, led by a heavier set one who had been driving. He slid the door open and freed an overly pampered Poodle wearing a Bejeweled pink sweater and a Chihuahua with a spiked collar. The heavy set teen took them by the leash; the Chihuahua started yapping away, growling at the teenager hidden in the shadows. The pint-sized dog was shaking like a leaf, while the Poodle began an effort to run in the opposite direction, yanking the leash until it reached its full length.
"Nice van," the figure remarked.
"Can it, Scary," the husky teenager answered, in a thick accent of some unknown origin that might've been somewhere in between Middle Eastern and Russian, "Mother vould not let me take truck dis morning. And she make me bring stupid dogs!"
The Chihuahua kept on barking, snapping at one of the foreign teen's cronies. The crony kicked at the dog, aggravated.
"Get off me you mutt!" he warned. "Off, I say!"
The foreign teen turned to the figure, pointing to his mommy's beloved pooches. "Look! Look what your drugs did to Mother's dogs!"
The figure that stepped out of the shadows was none other than Jonathan Crane, one of the most high profile criminals among Gotham City High's student population, wearing his famous burlap mask over his head like no one actually knew who he was. The foreign teenager figured that he was one of those kids who liked to play Dress Up and never left that phase behind…there was a psychological phrase for that, wasn't there? Some psycho mumbo-jumbo he couldn't care less about, but he was pretty sure it counted as a kind of disorder…
Word on the street was that Crane had served a summer-long community service sentence working under Dean Jim Gordon's watchful eye. No one thought he would be able to return to the school after the kind of stunt he pulled last year, but not unlike most of the pupils, Scarecrow wasn't one to follow the rules.
Scarecrow crossed his arms. "Well, what the hell were you doing giving it to dogs? I don't test on animals, you know." He lifted one hand up and started picking at his nails impatiently. "I'm not responsible for your idiotic mishaps."
The foreigner stepped forward, sticking a beefy finger in Scarecrow's face. "I don'…like…you!"
"Once again, not my problem," Scarecrow countered in monotone. "Can we speed this up a little? I have people to see, things to do, minds to corrupt…"
"I have customers! Mother's dogs eat toxin! I lose money! Nobody win!"
"So cry me a freakin' river. You don't like how I do things, don't buy. Find someone else, Mama's Boy."
"I have Mother's dogs eat your skinny ass!"
Scarecrow put his arms out in front of him, his hands beckoning them forward in a "bring it on" gesture.
"I'd take pleasure in watching them try." The Chihuahua growled at Scarecrow, earning a laugh from the masked man. "Are we done here…?"
The foreigner glanced around at his cronies, jaw dropping open. Scarecrow heaved a sigh, bored, and made for the back door. He walked through it, the foreigner hot on his heels, unhappy with the service—or lack thereof—he was receiving. The cronies stayed behind while their leader dragged his mother's drugged out dogs along with him. He was not even halfway down the darkened, abandoned corridor behind Scarecrow when out of nowhere, a dark shape tackled him to the ground. He threw the lumpy shape off him with a groan.
It was one of the victims he picked on mercilessly—how dare he?!
"BRIAN!"
Brian Douglas lay in a heap on the floor, dressed in full goalie hockey pads. He scrambled to his feet, tripping over himself awkwardly with all the bulky safety equipment he wore. His eyes went wide when he saw how pissed off the foreigner was, and with a fearful whimper, he took off running toward Scarecrow. Shoes squeaking on the tiles of the floor, he made a running leap toward Scarecrow in attempt to pounce on him tiger-style. He landed hard against Scarecrow's back, and the two of them toppled forward, rolling across the hallway. Brian landed on the masked teenager, who immediately wheezed, groaning from the impact.
"GET. OFF. ME!"
"You're not getting away this time!"
"GET OFF, YOU FAT BAFFOON!"
Reaching a partially crushed hand into his pocket, Scarecrow took out an aerosol can and sprayed some of the substance in Brian's face. Brian went into an instant fit, flailing and screaming at the top of his lungs, completely hysterical.
"NOOO…DON'T LET THEM GET ME! THE SNAILS ARE GONNA POKE MY EYES OUT! GET THEM AWAY! GET THEM AWAY!"
Under his mask, Scarecrow rolled his eyes, unable to comprehend what Brian was rambling about. "Some of you people are afraid of the strangest things…"
Another shadowy form interrupted Brian's bad toxin trip, swooping in and pulling him off Scarecrow. Batman, Gotham City High's self-proclaimed protector clad in a black suit, cape, and mask that covered everything but the lower half of his face, pushed him aside.
"Ooh, it's the Bat-man come to save the day! How damn convenient!" Scarecrow proclaimed.
Before Batman could deal with the masked teenager, the foreigner let go of the dogs' leashes.
"Sick 'im!"
The Poodle sat where she was, ignoring the order, while the Chihuahua took off, yapping and generally acting tougher and much bigger than he actually was. At his full height, Batman glanced down at the tiny, yuppie dog and thought about laughing. He didn't, though, because showing any sort of emotion whatsoever was not his scene. It wasn't "cool." He was all about intimidation and growling—lots of growling.
"Really?" he mused, revealing a voice that seemed like it had skipped right over puberty and gone straight to raspy old man who'd been a chain smoker since birth. Or something to that affect.
Batman strolled right past the dog and to the foreigner. Brian, still reeling slightly from the toxin's effects, charged after him. He held the teenager off with another annoyed growl.
"Go away, Brian."
"I just want to help…"
"This is the antithesis of helping!" Batman snapped.
He went after the foreign teen, the two of them struggling for a few minutes before Batman knocked him out. Going back to Scarecrow, where that stupid Chihuahua was relentlessly snapping at his heels and snarling, baring small, yet very pointy teeth. Batman raced to him, but Scarecrow kept running down the hallway. Desperate to catch him, Batman took an Indiana Jones-esque whip from his belt and flung it in Scarecrow's direction. It wrapped around his legs, trapping him and making him tumble to the ground. Taking long strides over, Batman hauled him to his feet and got in his face, about to formally confront him, when Brian shoved himself between them, using his arms to keep them at a distance.
Then, a rare moment occurred—Batman and Scarecrow turned to Brian at the same time and shouted, "BRIAN! GET LOST!"
Brian hung his head. "I want to help!"
"For the last time, I don't NEED help!"
Scarecrow stifled some laughter, but just barely. "Well, for a dude dressed up as a gigantic fucking bat, that remains to be seen…"
Batman was not amused.
"Says the dude wearing a potato sack over his head," he pointed out in his ever-present growl. "Because that's real sane."
Scarecrow put his hands up. "Oh—whoa, is that sarcasm I hear? I'm surprised at you, Bat-man…I didn't know cynicism was a part of your arsenal."
Brian cut in with a perturbed grumble. "You're not the only one in this place who can run around all high and mighty fighting crime! Who says I can't? Huh?" he ranted.
"Douglas, you're on every bully's daily hit list. You're weak. You're the pesky little bug that won't go away. You aren't qualified. Let the professionals handle it, and give it a rest," Scarecrow advised.
"Save the hockey pads for on the ice," Batman added. Turning to Scarecrow, he asked, "Would you like to take this outside?"
"I'd love to," Scarecrow answered, mockery lacing his words, "but sadly, I have classes to attend. While staying here and exchanging insults is tempting, I find the prospects of expanding my mind much more satisfying. Later, Bat-man."
On the opposite end of the school, Principal Nolan saw GCHS' resident "It" couple entering, holding hands and basking in the glow of innocent, naïve love.
It was no secret that Rachel Dawes and Harvey Dent were the most popular among the student population. Everyone who's anyone knew about them. All of the guys wanted to be the football stud quarterback like Harvey, who also doubled his efforts in the school's Mock Trial and Community Volunteer Clubs, in an attempt to help better the city. He seemed to have anything a teenager with dashing good looks and a charming personality could ever want, which made those who were lower on the totem pole insanely jealous of him. His girlfriend, Rachel, was no different. She was a member of Mock Trial and Student Council, and stereotypically enough, she was also on Gotham City's cheerleading squad. She was the epitome of beauty and brains, and had her own following of girls trying to be like her, to the point where they wanted to actually be her.
This is why the group of Harvey Dent Fangirls was not far behind, lusting after the attractive young man. Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel spotted them and rolled her eyes, tightening her grip on Harvey's hand, leaning into his shoulder. The HD Fangirls let out a collective groan, glaring daggers at Rachel, who tried to pay no mind to them and continued walking.
Suddenly, Rachel's best friend, Anna Ramirez, came running up beside her, arms laden with heavy books.
"Harvey!" she called. She caught her breath once she reached them, "Harvey, I've been working on your campaign for Student Council president all summer, and I really think I have something great. Here, take a look." Anna tugged a horrendously fluorescent pink piece of paper from one of her books and handed it to him enthusiastically. He read it with Rachel peering over his shoulder, looking displeased. At once, Anna realized her mistake.
"Oh. Hi, Rachel." She deadpanned.
Rachel frowned.
"The Harvey Dent Appreciation Society?" the teenager himself asked incredulously.
Anna smiled, blushing, until Rachel shot her a look that clearly said, Girl, if you touch my man, I WILL cut you.
"I thought you were on the Bruce Wayne bandwagon," Rachel stated.
"He's completely last year. Don't you know anything? You dated the guy! He's old news. Harvey's totally in now."
"Of course," Rachel said. "What about that…hall monitor thing you're doing for Gordon? Aren't you supposed to be helping him?"
"I have skills in multi-tasking, unlike some of the male species. And, Wuertz has hall monitor duty this week. He has this crazy theory that Batman and Santa Claus are one in the same…personally, I don't know if Crane's toxin caused some permanent damage to his brain, or what…anyway, Harvey, I still have to get a group together, but—"
Harvey gave the flyer back. "Why don't you try back there? I'm sure you'll have some willing volunteers." He jabbed his thumb behind him, pointing to the Fangirls who were giggling and trying to shush each other at the same time while simultaneously speculating over what brand of hair products Harvey used to keep his gorgeous blonde locks looking shiny and perfect. Once they noticed he had motioned to them, a few let out a Fangirl Scream and others hyperventilated to the point of passing out in the middle of the hallway.
The gesture went unnoticed by Anna.
"We'll make posters and buttons and stickers…oh, we'll have to make up a slogan…"
"You do that, Anna," Harvey said gently, "Knock yourself out. We'll see you later."
Slinging his arm around Rachel's shoulders, the two of them walked off contently to homeroom, leaving a still babbling Anna in their wake.
Meanwhile, Gordon was holding a crowd of teenagers off. Thirty or so students had gathered in front of the cafeteria doors, shouting and demanding to know what had gone down. Gordon took a breath and made an effort to talk over them.
"Please, for the love of—keep away! Don't you kids ever listen? …No, Marge didn't go postal. Yes—yes, another part of the building was destroyed, why do you think we have it blocked off? Don't touch that. I said, don't touch that…You'd think I was talking to a bunch of five-year-olds…" He took another breath, just to hold onto his remaining shred of sanity. "EVERYONE GO TO HOMEROOM, or I'll give ALL OF YOU detention!"
Once the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Detention for this many students would be a punishment unto himself, since he ran the damn things. Fed up, Gordon ducked into the cafeteria, where a clean-up crew was busy at work, getting rid of the debris and backing the school bus out of the building. He took a moment to pace in a small area of the room where it was fairly clear, and ended up running smack into Batman.
"Whoa! Why do you always do that?"
"My job requires ninja-like tendencies."
"Well, cut it out. It's…unsettling."
"I think that's the point," Batman observed. Gordon produced the Joker card from his pocket, showing it to his ally.
"He's the one who tore a gaping hole in the building."
"That seems to be a favorite around here. How'd he do it?"
Gordon pointed to the bus in a way that said, Are you not seeing what I'm seeing?
"Hm. Creative."
"Very," Gordon agreed.
"And I see he managed to re-decorate the place. Not the colors I would've chosen. To each his own, I guess."
Gordon looked slightly worried, and a bit disturbed. "Uhh…well, anyway, I think we were right about Marge and the rest of the lunch ladies."
"They're on the other team?" he replied. "Man, I knew something was going on between all of them…"
"No, not that," Gordon clarified, shaking his head. "I meant the money thing. And who knows where they're hiding all their dirty cash…" A moment of awkward silence ensued before Gordon finally turned his attention back to Batman, only to find him gone. A second later, the bell sounded for homeroom.
"That's seriously starting to piss me off."