Bruce Wayne was an intimidating man. Coupled with the fact that he wouldn't stop glaring at me, I was surprised. He was- well, used to be, a goddamn billionaire! I thought he would be yelling and screaming for immunity, or some political shmuck like that. Instead, he looked calm and held his head high, as he was lead across the jail hallways, like he was just doing business with us, like he wasn't about to be thrown into a cell.
So far, Bruce hadn't said anything, which was a big relief since I probably wouldn't have had a reply. My mind was reeling, thoughts churning around it like a laundry machine. There was one specific question that was clear; why would he do it?
I've seen criminals, I've caught them, even went undercover as them. I knew how they operated, how they worked. There was always a motive. My undercover aliases all were made to have a motive, too. Yet, why would Bruce Wayne, an already successful billionaire, do something as foolish as smuggle drugs? Wayne Enterprises was the main source of Bruce's investment, so why would he want more? It just didn't make sense. Plus, underneath the playboy interior, there was, no doubt, a clever, calculating man. I mean, he did manage to keep his business running so effortlessly, even after his parents died. I doubted that a person like him would smuggle drugs just for the fun of it, either.
It also scared me a little to see how easily I could read the man. It was almost as if I had met him before. A slight feeling of Deja vu washed over me.
I was so deep in thought, I was startled to hear the man I was mulling over say something to me.
"Um… what? Could you repeat that?" I winced as the loud voice of my self-conscious yelled at me to pay attention.
"I said," He stopped walking, and turned around so he was facing me. I was annoyed to see the amused smirk set on his face. His handcuffs clinked rather loudly in the silence of the white hallways, "I think we missed my cell."
"What?" Indignant, I checked our surroundings. Well shit.
"How did you know that?" Curiosity peaking, I glanced back at him.
"Well, we did walk past a door that had a bunch of security guards surrounding it."
I shrugged, and played along. "You'd need more evidence than that to make such an assumption, you know." If I'd tried to arrest someone based on something like that, I would've been fired by now.
"Let me finish," The amused smirk was back. "The guards seemed excited, and I bet they don't enjoy just sitting there."
I cocked my head to the side, listening intently. Where was he getting at?
"So, I assumed it was because a certain billionaire was coming, and they were so engrossed in checking their cameras they didn't even notice us passing them. That made me jump to the conclusion that they weren't paying attention because they were waiting for us, so that means we were supposed to stop there, presumably to gain access to the cell holding area. Lastly, the door they were guarding was made out of the strongest material in the place so far, or so I've seen. Oh, and FYI, I wouldn't trust that one guard, Joe, he could be easily bribed by me, or anyone with large amounts of money."
Bewildered, my mind raced. "Okay, so now that you've proven your great, not to mention smart, observational skills, I want to ask you a question." The past nervousness of not wanting to talk to Bruce was completely, and utterly, gone.
Bruce nodded, and we continued walking, the right way this time.
"Why? I certainly know that you're smart- you just confirmed it; so why would such a person like you, get involved in smuggling drugs? I mean, it makes absolutely no sense. Also, if you actually did smuggle drugs, I bet you of all people wouldn't get caught. But Hell, you don't even have an emergency bail planned to get yourself out of here!"
Bruce looked at me, a surprised yet hopeful glint in his eyes.
"You really think that?"
I nodded, feeling quite better than my thoughts were actually said.
Bruce lowered his voice, "-"
He looked up, tensed, and shut up. His gaze was directed at a small camera that was pointed at us.
"What?" Those cameras don't have any audio." I stated, glaring at the offending device.
He shook his head and then widened his eyes at something behind me.
I turned, only to see a man, dressed in a white lab coat, holding a 'light saber', or so Barbara called them.
"SHI-" I shouted, jumping, then spasming as the man tased me. The hair on my arms rose, and I bit my lip so hard that I tasted blood. Ouch, goddamn Jesus those tasers hurt. My vision swayed, and crumbled around the edges.
…
"Jesus Christ, Dick!" I opened my eyes, and blinked warily at the picture of red. I blinked again, and my blurry vision became clearer. It was Barbara, running fingers through her bright, wavy, red hair. She was clearly very distressed.
"W-what?" My tongue felt too big and too dry in my mouth. It flopped around my teeth uselessly as I tried to talk.
"Not only did you manage to get yourself tasered, but on your first day working here, too! Goddamn it, Dick, where the hell did you even get this 'light saber'? Were you trying to kill yourself?! Why did I even trust you in the first place? You almost killed Bruce motherfucking Wayne, too! He's a fucking billionaire! It won't be long 'till his case is all sorted out, and he'll sue our asses off because of you! Now, we're off the damn case! As if there was a case in the first place, I swear to god that Hugo Strange is a fucking, goddamn dumbass! 'Oh, you can't talk, listen, or even see Bruce Wayne anymore, due to your fucking mistake!' What's next, he's going to forbid us to even breathe in the same air as Bruce? GOTHAM'S JURISDICTION MY ASS! JUST THINK ABOUT ALL THAT PAPER WORK, AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE GODDAMN PAPARAZI!"
She was now violently pulling at her hair, totally forgetting I was right in front of her. I then noticed the large, and I'm talking about gigantic, stack of papers swaying precariously on her desk. Her desk? I looked around the room I was in, and noticed that I was Barbara's office.
Mahogany wallpapers, and almost a ton of little electronic gadgets littering the floor, wasn't what I expected when I first came into her office to receive my schedule. Computer nerd still fit her image, though. In fact, it made her that much hotter.
"Umm… Babs?" I said, my tongue slurring because of my dumb tongue. I was confused. She was blaming me for tasering… myself?
"YOU!" She pointed a shaking finger at me, fury laced in her brown orbs.
I opened my mouth, but was interrupted when she started yelling at me again.
"SHUT UP! YOU'RE THE ONE TO BLAME HERE!"
I flinched, taken aback. Was this how Bruce felt, if he was falsely accused? Barbara's eyes softened, and she sighed.
She put a hand to her forehead and murmured, "Well, at least you aren't as bad as Jason…"
I quirked an eyebrow and cocked my head to the side. Jason? Where had I heard that name before? That strange feeling of Deja va, like the feeling I felt when I saw Bruce, was back. I shook my head, and got rid of those thoughts. That mystery was for later. For now, I had to clear my name.
"Babs, I didn't-"
She raised a hand to signal me to stop talking.
"Don't worry. I won't fire you. Does two weeks of dishwashing duty sound like a good enough punishment to you? The cafeteria ladies do need a vacation, anyways. I'm going to be nice, and only count this as an accident, okay? Now leave." She pointed at the door, one hand on her hip.
I sighed and left. She probably wouldn't listen to me anyways.
…
It turned out that washing the criminal's dishes sucked big time. My hands were raw with the persistent rubbing or the rag and my skin. God, why didn't this stupid prison have a dish washer?!
Also, why did I have to wash the dishes in front of the goddamn prisoners? I scowled as another criminal, presumably a rapist, cat whistled at me as I bent down to pick something up. With only a rectangular window and a steel door between the prisoners and me, I felt way unprotected. Just think about what would happen to me if the prisoners suddenly decided that they wanted to rebel? I looked up and silently thanked the real cafeteria ladies for doing their job for god knows how long. If I had been in their position, I would've resigned at once.
Suddenly the front doors of the mess hall clicked opened, and men dressed in white lab coats strolled in. They were all dressed like the man who had tasered me, and actually… I think that was the man that tasered me! I gritted my teeth, and mulled over the reason why I was still here, stuck in this stupid job. I could've easily just have gone back to the Police Force. Perhaps it was just the prospect of Bruce Wayne being falsely accused, or just to helping Barbara, that kept me rooted here.
Damn, my stupid hero complex was acting up again!
I looked outside the window, and tensed. They were walking straight towards me. Barbara had Stan give me a baton. There was no way I would be able to defend myself against men with 'light sabers' with just a baton.
The whole cafeteria was silent as the people rapped on the steel door that protected me from them.
"Open up, kitchen boy! We're from Dr. Strange; he wants you to clean this!"
I snorted. They really honestly wanted me to believe that?
My walkie-talkie (almost the only thing that Barbara had not taken from me so far), turned on, interrupting me from my doubts. An annoyed Barbara's voice wafted around my ears.
"Grayson, open the goddamn door for those people. They were the ones who saved you anyways, finding you on the ground after you stupidly electrocuted yourself, you idiot."
I sighed, looking at the security camera that was tucked into a dark corner of the room I was in.
"Fine…" I muttered, opening the door warily. I clutched my baton stick, and stilled as the men in white entered.
"You? You're the kitchen boy?" The guy, I think, that tasered me jeered, holding several trays.
I rolled my eyes. Then, I tensely, still eyeing the camera in the corner, reached out for the trays. The guy holding them dropped the stack and snickered. "Clean this up, boy." He and other men left the room, slowly sauntering out of the cafeteria. The prisoners all burst out into loud conversation just as they left.
My face was burning in red. I felt so humiliated. They did it in front of all the criminals, too. Goddamn it.
No one would've believed me if I tried to tell them the truth. Earlier, I had tried to talk to Stan about it, but no, he wouldn't listen to me. In fact, everyone I passed gave me dark looks, even Joe! The guard that could be bribed easily!
Sighing, I picked up the trays, secretly eavesdropping to the people in the other room. Though there was glass, I could scarcely hear them.
"I heard… moved to… why?"
"I don't know… do you… but he… scared… kinda sorry."
"…Meta cells…"
"Torture… holding him… evil… do you think…did it?"
The snippets of conversation I heard were mildly interesting, so I listened on as I started wiping the trays. At one point, I was lip reading what they were saying, and adding my own versions to it.
'Mmmm this potato is really good. Cat chips?' I snorted as I said this one out loud, reading it off of a hairy guy's lips.
'No thanks, mother wouldn't like it if… ooh squirrel!' I was giggling under my breath with this one, as the person looked at a random space in the roof.
I got bored eventually, and went back to rinsing and repeating with these stupid trays.
The last tray I washed had little splatters of red on it, and smelt vaguely of… was that copper? Eyes narrowing, I examined the splatters. They were definitely blood. Uneasiness filled me as I tried to believe that it was just some nosebleed. I flipped the tray around, and then something caught my eye. Wedged in between the top and bottom plastics, was the edge of a piece of paper.
Curious, I wiped my wet hands on my pants and took the paper out. It was a hard task, the paper snagged a little, but I got it out safe and sound, save for a couple of rips and tears.
I looked over it, face scrunching up. It was just a bunch of goddamn numbers, slashes, and periods. It was gibberish. Shrugging, I shoved the thing into my pocket and totally forgot about it after washing all the trays.
…
Barbara wasn't kidding about the paparazzi. One step into the parking lot, and a bunch of microphones and cameras were swarming around me.
"Is it really Bruce Wayne in there?"
"Do you think that Mr. Wayne would wear boxers or briefs?"
"Did he really smuggle those drugs?"
"Do you think that he deserves this?"
All in all, they didn't even ask for my name. How rude. I evaded all the questions, and made a beeline to my car. Dancing through the crowd, it seemed almost impossible to escape, until another guy left the prison. It was Stan. The swarm of reporters, writers, and newscasters all rushed over to him and left me alone. I chuckled at the look on Stan's face.
I drove myself home, forgetting to gas my car up. The gas meter was dangerously low, and there wasn't a gas station in miles, so I took a detour. The apple juice box was still in the backseat, and it gave me an idea. There was a guy I knew who loved apple juice, and he lived close to where I was right now. He had plenty of gas for crappy, old, junk cars like mine. Yeah, he had learned a long time ago to keep a pile of gas tanks for me.
He was my goddamn good best friend. Actually, now that I think about it, we were more like brothers of some sort. His name was Tim Drake, Microsoft and Google extraordinaire.
"TIMMY!" I yelled, once I got in his large driveway. Yeah, his job was awesome. He got to stay home, fix electronics, monitor websites on Google, and download Microsoft for people. You bet he earned a shit ton of money. He lived in a fucking mansion. He was way young, too. He and I had been friends for, like, ever since we met.
I unlocked the front door of his house, which was a freshly painted white door that fitted nicely with the yellow shade his house was painted in. Tim had the key to my house, and I had the key to his. I don't know why, but he seemed to like my apartment, he called it 'homey'.
"Dick, what can I do you for?" Tim stated, poking his head out of a pile of phones, iPads, and laptops once I got to his large room.
"You got any gas? I gotta fuel my hump-a-junk." I grinned, walking over to him, who had tried to get up but failed, slipping on something and falling back down.
"Yeah, you know where the gas is." He awkwardly pointed over his shoulder, his feet submerged in electronics.
I waved and went to the garage, where his three expensive cars were held, along with my gas. Yup, you could say I was a little jealous of his fortune, but oh well. He lived his life, and I lived mine.
"I SAW YOU ON THE NEWS!" Tim yelled, still in the other room, and I laughed. They had actually recorded me? I hadn't said anything, though.
"YEAH, I WAS PRACTICALLY SWARMED!" I yelled back, spotting the red gasoline canteen.
There was a moment of silence before, "OH! HEY DICK, YOU DROPPED THIS!"
"DROPPED WHAT?" I heard a loud thump, and chuckled. Tim had probably fallen again. He was pretty clumsy.
"THIS PIECE OF PAPER. AND DON'T LAUGH AT ME! I FELL, AND IT HURT! THESE PHONES ARE HARD, GODDAMN IT!"
I snorted. "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID! OH, AND YOU CAN KEEP THAT PAPER. IT'S JUST A BUNCH OF CRAP."
I brought the gasoline out of Tim's garage, and walked back to the room where Tim was in. The gasoline sloshed around, and it was quite heavy.
"HEY DICK! THESE AREN'T JUST-"
"Timmy, you don't have to yell. I'm right here." I showed him the gasoline, but his attention remained at the piece of paper. He was squinting at it.
"Where did you get this?" Tim said, finally looking up at me.
I shrugged. "A cafeteria tray."
Tim's reaction was hilarious. He made a duck face as he realized that I wasn't being sarcastic.
"Seriously?" He looked at the paper again with a scrutinizing gaze. "This isn't just gibberish. It's an advanced type of computer code. Holy crud, this is magnificent! I've never seen someone use this code! This is gonna take me forever for me to decode!"
He smiled. Tim loved challenges. He didn't get many of them, and would do whatever he would solve them. Back when I was a police officer, I showed my case files to him, just so I could get his opinion. He was a great detective. Too bad he wanted to be a tech savvy.
"Cool." I stated. "Uhm, can I take this gasoline with me? I'll return it tomorrow."
He nodded, back to staring intently at the piece of paper, completely immersed.
I shrugged. At times like this, Tim didn't listen to anything. To prove my point, I said loudly, "Also, I sold your house to this lovely Jewish couple, who have the cutest dog. They bought every piece of clothing that you owned, so strip. They're moving in right now. I suggest you go home shopping very quickly. All the proceeds go to me, and I've cut you in on one percent of the rent. Oh yeah, the moon just got blown up by some rainbow aliens, too."
Tim nodded, still skimming over the contents of the paper. "Uh-huh…"
Rolling my eyes, I walked towards his front door. "See ya tomorrow, then." Tim mumbled something that I didn't hear.
I filled up my car, threw the gas in the trunk, and then proceeded to drive to my house. The unopened Apple juice hid deep in my peripheral vision yet again, mocking the crap out of me all the way home.
I lived in a crappy apartment, near a really, really, really bad neighborhood. And I was talking bad. Like, drugs, sex, alcohol, abuse, illegal shit, raping, and etc. bad. There wasn't much of my police salary that didn't go into taxes, mortgage, or food. I was hoping that this new job would at least give me enough money for a better car, or whatever.
Compared to Tim's house, my apartment sucked. Since the elevator was 'out of order' (it had been like that for like six months now), I had to walk up several flights of stairs. A man with a mustache and poofy black hair walked past me. Funny, I had never seen him before, and I knew almost everyone that lived near me.
"Are you new here?" I asked the man, who was already a flight of stairs below me. I rechecked his face. Yup, I did not know this guy.
His ratty circle glassed glared in the light as he turned. A little smirk was on his face, and his scratchy voice sent shivers down my back.
"I don't believe so." He promptly waked away.
I shrugged it off and continued up my apartment. Hey, I've met even stranger people.
A cold paranoia set in my stomach as I noticed my door. It was wide open.
Crouching down, I slowly opened the door, ready for a surprise. No one jumped up at me, but my jaw dropped to the ground as I stared at my home. It was ransacked. Every goddamn thing I owned was on the ground in shambles.
"GODDAMN THE FUCKING GODDAMN WORLD!"
This would be Hell to clean up. I knew that I lived in a dangerous neighborhood, but seriously?!
I looked for anything missing, assuming that whoever ransacked my home were thieves. Nothing was gone. It was almost like the thieves were looking for something. A cold feeling of dread ran through me as I realized that since there wasn't anything taken, it meant that the thieves hadn't found what they were originally looking for. That meant that they would be coming back.
I gulped as something in my closet creaked. Picking up the closest thing next to me, I held it in the air as a weapon. It was a lamp.
"Oh goddamn it! This was my favorite lamp!" I groaned, whispering angrily. There was broken ceramic everywhere. This is why I can't own nice things!
I slowly let go of the lamp. I knew martial arts, so this lamp was totally unnecessary. Maybe I could glue the broken pieces back together?
I opened the closet door, tensing up for an attack. A little cat skittered out, meowing and hissing at me.
Laughing, I picked up the kitten and nuzzled it.
"Where did you come from?"
I tucked the kitten under my arms, and went to my bedroom. There was no way in Hell that I was going to stay here for the night. Not after someone broke in.
The cat I had in my arms probably came from the outside, since my door had been left open. The cat was a reddish-orange tabby with wide green eyes that desperately looked like it needed some food and a bath.
"I'ma call you Wally." I stated, putting the kitten down as I packed my stuff. I was going to go to Tim's house. Maybe he had decoded the piece of paper?
Wally meowed. He was surprisingly docile, for a stray feral cat.
"Wait. Are you a stray?" I looked down at Wally, who was nuzzling my leg. He certainly didn't look like a house pet, with his ribs visible underneath his fur.
I zipped up my suitcase, and walked to my refrigerator. Wally followed me, meowing and purring. Talking out some tuna, I opened it, and left it on my welcome mat, which was outside my apartment. There was no way I was going to keep Wally, as much as I wanted to, because he was a wild animal. And, well, wild animals were supposed to stay in the wild.
As he crouched down and started to lick at the tuna happily, I closed my front door and started to my car. I opened the passenger door to my car, and threw my suitcase in. I closed the door just as an orange streak rocketed into my car. Wally stared at me from inside the car, purring. His ears twitched, and he seemingly made a sound that sounded not unlike a laugh.
Damn, that cat was fast! Chuckling, I gave in. I'd just have to bring Wally with me. Maybe Tim would take a liking to Tim? First, I took my phone and dialed Amy.
"Hey Amy!"
"What? How's your job? Oh and how did you get this number? This is for my personal cell!"
I rolled my eyes at her haughty tone. Classic Amy. "You gave me this phone number, dipshit. Also, could you investigate something, under the radar please? I hate paparazzi, and I think the guy might be thinking about doing it again, so you could catch him or her in the act."
"What? What happened?! You were only gone one day-"
I cut her off, sighing. Jeez, this all did happen in one day. "Amy, someone broke into my apartment." That shut her up. I could hear her clicking the safety of her gun on and off on the other end of the line.
"What happened? Are you hurt?" I scoffed at her tone of concern.
"I'm fine. I just need you to find out who broke in. I don't even have access to police files anymore, 'cause I'm a friggn' jail guard!" It was true; Amy had taken my badge away, so now I didn't have any jurisdiction to enforce people to give me a real answer when I asked them in Bludhaven.
"Okay. Bye." She hung up, her concern before seemingly gone.
I got into my car, patted Wally on the head, and drove to Tim's house.
In the middle of the ride, Wally started yowling, clawing at everything in sight. He was probably hungry, and I did have to go to the bathroom, so I pulled up into an almost deserted Seven Eleven. The only other car in the parking lot was bright red, and I could see it clearly even though it was in the middle of the night.
Wally yowled at me again as I got out of my car. "Fine, fine, I'll get you some food." I said, rubbing my temples.
I walked into the store to buy some beef jerky and hopefully get to use a clean bathroom. Suddenly, I heard a gruff voice growl, "Gimme all the cigs, or I'll shoot!"
Damn it, today was just my lucky day, huh. I tried to hide from the robber, but the door jingled merrily as it shut behind me.
"PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" The guy yelled at me, but I dropped down and rolled. Two bullets lodged themselves on the huge refrigerator above me. I sighed in relief. At least this dude wasn't using an automatic. Thank god for the small miracles in life.
I had to see how many bullets this guy's gun could hold. I stood up, heard another shot, and dropped down. Fortunately, I had seen the guy's gun. It was only designed to hold eight bullets. The robber himself was wearing a leather brown jacket, and a mysterious white streak ran through the front of his black hair. He had already shot three bullets. As long as the guy didn't have another cartridge to reload, then I could totally take him down.
Then I remembered that the robber had a hostage, the gas station cashier guy. Other than that, there were no other people.
Oh crud, crud, crud, crud, crud, crud, crud…. Hostages were very bad…
My police instincts clicked on, and I slowly army-crawled to the register booth.
"STOP MOVING!" I heard the calm, unnerving voice of the robber yell at me. I stopped. This guy seemed experienced. Then my mind caught up to what he had said to the cashier when I had fist walked in.
"Gimme all the cigs, or I'll shoot!" This dude didn't want money… he wanted cigarettes?
"Um…" I shouted from my hiding place, "Are you seriously shooting people over cigars?
I couldn't see the guy, but I imagined a large smirk had blossomed on his face when I had asked him this. There was another loud bang, right above my head. Four bullets left.
"Yeah, what's it to ya? A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do for a pack of cigarettes!"
I shrugged, and slowly started making my way to the booth again.
"You're really risking going to jail for… let's say, about half your life, over a pack of fucking cigarettes?" I was almost there, and out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the cashier guy still standing, but, at least there wasn't a gun pointed at his head.
Reaching my destination, I grabbed the chair that had been in my sights for the whole time. I took a firm hold of it, inspecting its durability. It looked and felt good enough.
I jumped up and yelled "GET DOWN!"
The cashier guy automatically got down, crouching hands to his head style, much to the robber's chagrin
I charged, blindly but logically, going serpentine, and deflected three bullets. The last one buried itself right into my right leg. Ouch. I looked down, assessing the damage, and sighed in relief as I saw that the bullet had not nicked any arteries. I kept running. My body switched to autopilot, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I heard the clicking of the gun, as the bullets finally ran out. I heard the robber curse, and reach for a new casing of bullets. It was too late for him. I knocked the gun out of his hand, and brought my good leg up to his stomach.
Now I had the advantage. I flipped the guy on his back, and heard the cashier cheering me on from behind the register. He was nervously peeking out at me.
"Whoo! Go 'n kick his ass! I ain't getting' fired today! No cigarettes for you! Ha, ha, this'll teach you!"
I rolled my eyes mid-punch as the kid kept on talking up a shit storm of insults at the robber guy. I almost kinda felt sorry for him, but boy could that kid say a bunch of things before taking a breath.
The robber groaned in pain. Now that my adrenaline was fading, my right leg was on fucking fire.
"OW. Goddamn Jesus! My leg!" I shouted in pain. I stopped kicking him, and jeez it actually did really hurt.
"Hey, Cashier Guy?!" I yelled, getting the man's attention, though my vision blurred momentarily, "Do ya got any bandages?"
The guy nodded, disappearing behind the counter. I sighed and slid onto the ground, clutching my wound to keep the blood from escaping. The robber guy moaned from the ground near me, and I picked up a nearby plastic coffee mug and threw it at him. There was a loud clunk and a curse, before all was quiet except for my labored breathing.
"Um… will this do?" The cashier threw a roll of gauze near me, and I nodded. "Do you want me to call the cops or…?"
"Nah." I said, wrapping the white bandage around my leg. "I got this. Though, do you have any beef jerky and a bathroom?" I still hadn't taken a shit yet, and now, a sudden urge to go got me scrambling to my feet.
"Yeah," Bart, I read his nametag, stated, running his hand through his fiery red hair. He pointed at a little alcove near one of the walls. "That's where the bathrooms are, and these are on the house, free of charge." He handed me a large pack of original beef jerky, and then stared anxiously at the robber laying passed out on the floor.
I noticed his gaze. "Yeah, you should probably tie that guy up." I started limping towards the male lavatories.
"His name's Jason Todd! He's been terrorizing this stretch of town for weeks, just so you know!" Bart shouted behind me. I nodded at the information. Another Jason, huh… could this just be a coincidence?
After I was done relieving myself, I went out to my car and took Wally out. I opened the bag of beef jerky, and Wally started munching on them quite happily.
"I'm gonna call the police now!" I yelled at Bart, through the glass of the store, and he gave me a thumbs up. I spotted Jason tied to a chair, seemingly asleep and snorted. That bastard had shot me in the friggin' leg. He deserved to be on that chair.
I waved my (crappy) phone in the air, waiting to receive better service. Yeah, I probably looked like a complete idiot.
"Yo Amy!" I yelled into my phone, calling my boss's personal cell yet again today.
"Yeah? I'm checking your apartment right now- and Jesus, Dick, why does everything smell like tuna?!"
My leg throbbed again. "Just get over here! I've been shot, and goddamn it my leg is on fire!" I felt another burning sensation on my throbbing leg. "Wally, stop licking it! That hurts!"
Amy sounded doubtful. "Really? You aren't just prank calling me? And who's Wally? Why is he licking your-"
"NO! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND HELP! I ACTUALLY AM IN A CRITICAL SITUATION, AND I MANAGED TO CAPTURE A ROBBER WHILE AT IT. HIS NAME IS JASON TODD!."
"Ok. Hell, Dick, all in one fucking day?"
"Yes, this all happened in one fucking day. Now get over here, dumbass."
"Where are you?"
I looked at the glowing sign behind me. A gentle green, yellow, and white light covered my face.
"…A Seven Eleven?"
I could literally hear Amy rolling her eyes on the other end. "…Seriously? Dick, out of all the places-"
"Shut up and come here already! It's off of Route Seventeen!"
"Sure, but-"
I cut her off, as a realization hit me. "WAIT A GODDAMN MINUTE! Does Seven Eleven even sell cigarettes?!"
AND HOLY CRUD CAKES! Um… first thing first… sorry for all the insistent swearing… also… the whole updating thing… I've actually had this whole stupid chapter on my computer, finished, and it just needed an Author's Note and an editor. So yeah. Sorry about that. Also, typing six thousand words takes me a lot more than a week. Maybe two weeks, at best.
On a much better note, THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!
America and Iggy: Yes, Stan Lee is the creator of Spiderman, so kudos for you!
Captain Curiosity: Thank for that, it kinda motivated me to actually post this chapter! I hope that you get to read this chapter and like it too…
RavensandCrowes: Thank you too, you also helped motivate me!
I'm not very happy with this chapter, because I feel like too many things happen at once, but oh well. I just like the fact that I got to incorporate Wally (West) and Bart (Allen) in this chappy! Also, just imagine Tim as a Google and Microsoft extraordinaire~! The thought itself just makes me happy, 'cause I would totally want him to fix my computers all the time! Oh, and don't kill me for not putting Wally back in the wild and don't say it's animal abuse or crap like that because Wally is actually a domesticated cat that ran from his home. If you didn't know, the real Wally West had an abusive father, and was saved by his uncle, who was the Flash at that time. So, this Wally (the cat) was abused and neglected from his owners as well, but this time, Dick saved him. Yeah, it's pretty sad, but I'm too evil so oh well, and I love the angst. Next chappy, y'all gonna find all about Tim's "secret" allergy, and what's happening with Bruce Wayne.
Disclaimer: Hell, I don't even know who the original creator of Batman was! If I did, I would want to stalk them and probably get married to them. Until then, I'll just sit here praying for more good movies from DC.
Last thing: who here doesn't use an Oxford comma? Like, come on, that comma is so important!
Last-last thing: WHO WANTS TO BE MY BETA?! GRAMMAR AND EDITING AIN'T MY THING, AND I'M PRETTY DESPERATE!
Last-last-last thing: I'ma rename the Bludhaven prison to just 'Lockhaven'.