Who's Laughing Now?
Chapter Twelve
**
Medieval moralists and theologians thought of the fool as an object of scorn. His deficiencies doomed him to make mistakes during his life on earth. –The Fool Throughout the Ages
~*~
From the harbor, the city lights glowed with unusual ferocity. Their usual orange din seemed to be quickening to amber, like a bulb about to extinguish. Their fiery illumination glared against the inky black of the mud-clouded river waters. It was a sixty-watt bulb, eking out its last bit of life. The flush of the city flickered once, then extinguished. The initial perception was that the entire world had plunged into darkness, but beyond the cliffs of the coast, the haze of down town lights glared against the horizon, making their plight known.
All the way down the water, radios were ablaze with talk—all of the lights from Bristol to Tricorner were extinguished. It was far more than one grid, and there was little telling what had precipitated the blackout. Some feared another quake, but the seas were too calm and the night air too still.
In houses off of Coast Shore Drive, many people lay asleep. A few insomniacs lit tea candles, drinking in the gutted fumes and pondering their dead TV boxes. Basking in the last bits of radiation from their sets, they contemplated the prospects of their lonely beds.
Under the wooden porch of an over-painted, run down Victorian, an elderly dog of moderate size and failing health howled. Above him, a bevy of hissing bats took to the cool night air, their home uncharacteristically disturbed.
* * *
The lights in the cave did not flicker, they simply extinguished as their power source died. The Crays computer hesitated as the backup generator spun to life. Turning in the oversized chair, it creaked once as Barbara questioningly glanced at the figure at the top of the steps. In the near- absolute darkness of the cave, she could feel Alfred's eyes searching hers, on the off-chance that SHE had caused the sudden fluctuation in power.
"What was that?" she finally dared to ask. Looking around, she waited for other emergency systems to power back on, but they failed to.
"I think we'd do best to inquire as to the condition of the household," Alfred suggested. He'd been on his way back up to see if he could roust his other charge enough to get him below. Now that they were out of immediate medical danger, it was his duty to get them out of possible physical danger.
Pulling upon the metal door behind the grandfather clock, he was surprised when it didn't budge. "We may have to power down the computer, Miss."
Barbara rubbed her eyes, trying to think of some solution. "Let me guess… the backup generator for the Crays also powers the security door."
"Only when the auxiliary power system is disrupted."
"Why do I have a really bad feeling about this?" Barbara asked as she began typing. As if somehow triggered by her worry, the bats in the cave chirped their discontent, and then fled.
* * *
Shortly after their conversation ended, several seconds later in fact, Jim noticed the boy's head leaning against the wall, and half of a snore escaping him. Looking through the doorway into the now over-used bedroom, he caught the faintest of movements from a fidgeting Dick Grayson. That kid should have known better. He expected a lot of things from a lot of people, but he thought that he could rely on him not to place Barbara in physical danger. He thought he could trust the boy to refrain from falling into behavior characteristic of certain… other parties he knew.
With a sigh, Jim shook his head. It was as much a fault as an endearing quality, he supposed.
Deciding he didn't wish to wait any longer, he found the stair well that lead down to the main floor of the house. He wasn't entirely certain he could find his way, or Alfred once he got down there, but he wanted to check this alleged security for himself. His nerves were too wracked to sit next to an underage, exhausted vigilante for much longer. There was also an old adage that continually played through his mind—the one about being a sitting duck.
The antique carpet ended at the top of the steps. Taking his first step onto the hardwood floor, he heard the clacking of his own shoes, and then a slight buzz as the lights dimmed then went out. Looking around for a light switch he heard an excited breath that was not his own.
"You make it so easy, you know," came the sotto voce declaration from the Joker, just as two bony hands connected with his back and shoved him forward.
There wasn't the usual scuffle associated with a tumble down the stairs, the Joker noted. He hadn't even pushed ol' Beacon of Justice that hard, but somehow he'd practically flown through the air before crashing into the huge metal potter at the corner of the landing.
Satisfied with his work, he swiftly turned back to his precious sleeping little one, who was just begging for it.
Continued in Chapter Thirteen
It appears that a natural fool couldn't rid themselves of their office when they tired of it and was to serve until royalty freed them from their obligation. Although an artificial fool could abandon their role when he eventually grew weary of it or it no longer suited him. –The Fool Thorughout the Ages
Chapter Twelve
**
Medieval moralists and theologians thought of the fool as an object of scorn. His deficiencies doomed him to make mistakes during his life on earth. –The Fool Throughout the Ages
~*~
From the harbor, the city lights glowed with unusual ferocity. Their usual orange din seemed to be quickening to amber, like a bulb about to extinguish. Their fiery illumination glared against the inky black of the mud-clouded river waters. It was a sixty-watt bulb, eking out its last bit of life. The flush of the city flickered once, then extinguished. The initial perception was that the entire world had plunged into darkness, but beyond the cliffs of the coast, the haze of down town lights glared against the horizon, making their plight known.
All the way down the water, radios were ablaze with talk—all of the lights from Bristol to Tricorner were extinguished. It was far more than one grid, and there was little telling what had precipitated the blackout. Some feared another quake, but the seas were too calm and the night air too still.
In houses off of Coast Shore Drive, many people lay asleep. A few insomniacs lit tea candles, drinking in the gutted fumes and pondering their dead TV boxes. Basking in the last bits of radiation from their sets, they contemplated the prospects of their lonely beds.
Under the wooden porch of an over-painted, run down Victorian, an elderly dog of moderate size and failing health howled. Above him, a bevy of hissing bats took to the cool night air, their home uncharacteristically disturbed.
* * *
The lights in the cave did not flicker, they simply extinguished as their power source died. The Crays computer hesitated as the backup generator spun to life. Turning in the oversized chair, it creaked once as Barbara questioningly glanced at the figure at the top of the steps. In the near- absolute darkness of the cave, she could feel Alfred's eyes searching hers, on the off-chance that SHE had caused the sudden fluctuation in power.
"What was that?" she finally dared to ask. Looking around, she waited for other emergency systems to power back on, but they failed to.
"I think we'd do best to inquire as to the condition of the household," Alfred suggested. He'd been on his way back up to see if he could roust his other charge enough to get him below. Now that they were out of immediate medical danger, it was his duty to get them out of possible physical danger.
Pulling upon the metal door behind the grandfather clock, he was surprised when it didn't budge. "We may have to power down the computer, Miss."
Barbara rubbed her eyes, trying to think of some solution. "Let me guess… the backup generator for the Crays also powers the security door."
"Only when the auxiliary power system is disrupted."
"Why do I have a really bad feeling about this?" Barbara asked as she began typing. As if somehow triggered by her worry, the bats in the cave chirped their discontent, and then fled.
* * *
Shortly after their conversation ended, several seconds later in fact, Jim noticed the boy's head leaning against the wall, and half of a snore escaping him. Looking through the doorway into the now over-used bedroom, he caught the faintest of movements from a fidgeting Dick Grayson. That kid should have known better. He expected a lot of things from a lot of people, but he thought that he could rely on him not to place Barbara in physical danger. He thought he could trust the boy to refrain from falling into behavior characteristic of certain… other parties he knew.
With a sigh, Jim shook his head. It was as much a fault as an endearing quality, he supposed.
Deciding he didn't wish to wait any longer, he found the stair well that lead down to the main floor of the house. He wasn't entirely certain he could find his way, or Alfred once he got down there, but he wanted to check this alleged security for himself. His nerves were too wracked to sit next to an underage, exhausted vigilante for much longer. There was also an old adage that continually played through his mind—the one about being a sitting duck.
The antique carpet ended at the top of the steps. Taking his first step onto the hardwood floor, he heard the clacking of his own shoes, and then a slight buzz as the lights dimmed then went out. Looking around for a light switch he heard an excited breath that was not his own.
"You make it so easy, you know," came the sotto voce declaration from the Joker, just as two bony hands connected with his back and shoved him forward.
There wasn't the usual scuffle associated with a tumble down the stairs, the Joker noted. He hadn't even pushed ol' Beacon of Justice that hard, but somehow he'd practically flown through the air before crashing into the huge metal potter at the corner of the landing.
Satisfied with his work, he swiftly turned back to his precious sleeping little one, who was just begging for it.
Continued in Chapter Thirteen
It appears that a natural fool couldn't rid themselves of their office when they tired of it and was to serve until royalty freed them from their obligation. Although an artificial fool could abandon their role when he eventually grew weary of it or it no longer suited him. –The Fool Thorughout the Ages
