Like Sheep
A/N: Okay guys, I know you all want to kill me for not posting (and if any of my loyal readers from the "No Such Thing" HP series are here and are going WTF? please listen to this), but in reality you have my grandmother to thank for this. She's asked my mom and I to move out of her house and shut off her internet, so I wasn't able to post this chapter. Admittedly, it still took forever to write because I was so unmotivated, but here it is. I'm going to California for a few days (where there should be internet access, thank god) so hopefully I'll be able to finish the next chap and post it. And also, I'm really sorry that these next two chapters (in my opinion) are basically going to suck, but they're basically transitions to where Phanti really gets pissed and starts blowing stuff up. Literally.
Chapter Six
"Anything good, Alfred?" Bruce yawned as he made his way into the penthouse's kitchen. His
butler had already laid his breakfast out and was currently reading the newspaper.
"Nothing of interest yet, Master Wayne- Oh here's something, sir, some sort of panic at Mr.
Petrofsky's Wonder Circus."
"Hmmm?" Bruce hummed as he poured himself some coffee.
"It says here that there was a mass shooting of the animals at the circus, and a young woman was
attacked in an attempt to stop the shooter."
"Name?"
Alfred looked up. "Of the young miss or the shooter?"
"Both," the other man replied.
"The newspaper doesn't list either of the names. I would assume, Master Wayne, that they're
trying to keep the incident quiet."
"They're doing a hell of a good job by not releasing names to the public. And we all know that
people won't stop going to Petrofsky's just because someone was attacked. It's the first circus
Gotham has had in years," Bruce sighed as he took a seat across from his butler. "It excites
people."
"You don't agree with the circus, sir?"
"It's not that. Petrofsky just has a reputation for being less than friendly with his animals."
Alfred put the newspaper down and looked his employer in the eye. "Would I be wrong in
assuming that Batman is going to look into this?"
Bruce scowled ruefully. "You know I can't right now, Alfred. My main priority is getting the
Joker behind bars."
Alfred rose from the table with a sigh. "Don't let other crimes of Gotham go unnoticed, sir, in an
attempt to win a war."
The younger man's scowl deepened. He took a sip of his coffee and was quiet, during which
Alfred began preparing some eggs and toast. Bruce reached for the newspaper and opened it to
the page Alfred had been reading about Petrofsky's Wonder Circus.
Ms. Craft set down her coffee cup angrily, glaring across the small kitchen table at Amber's
mother.
"You need to do something about her," she snarled. "By God's witness, all she ever does is study
and sit up in her room. Doing nothing. It's unhealthy, and quite frankly, it's wearing on my nerves."
Carol-Lyn lowered her own coffee cup slowly, looking up at Ms. Craft with docile eyes. "She's
been under a lot of stress lately, mother. She'll come around when she's ready."
The professor's eyes flashed. "And how long are you willing to wait, exactly? Certainly you seem
to be indifferent about the whole thing, while I'm trying to fix it."
The mood suddenly became chilly in Carol-Lyn's small living room/dinette combo. Her own
green eyes narrowed at Ms. Craft and she pushed a stray strand of light brown hair out of her
round face.
"She's my daughter, and I will do what I deem necessary. She doesn't need some sort of
intervention, mother."
"Obviously not to you," Ms. Craft huffed. She stood up abruptly, smoothing her white blouse
and her tacky business skirt hurriedly. "I've arranged for Amber to talk to one of my colleagues."
Carol-Lyn's eyes narrowed. "What kind of colleague, mother?"
"She has a degree in psychiatry if that's what you're asking. It's time for Amber to stop moping
around after getting dumped by some loser."
"She told you that?" Carol-Lyn asked incredulously.
"What else could it be? She doesn't have good taste in men- runs in the family in my opinion,"
Ms. Craft sniffed.
Carol-Lyn's face turned white with anger at her mother's implication.
"Keep in touch," the elderly woman said shortly before exiting the small apartment, slamming
the door behind her. Tears of rage slowly rolled down Carol-Lyn's cheeks as she took a sip of her
now-cold coffee.
Amber lay in her bed in her room upstairs, hiding beneath her covers. Her mismatched eyes were
open wide but without any life to them as she remained perfectly still. The thin walls of the
apartment provided no privacy, and she had heard every word her beloved grandmother had said.
She couldn't bring herself to care, however, and remained completely numb. She didn't even
flinch when she heard her mother drop her cup accidently and the delicate porcelain split into a
million pieces.
Maybe that's what happened to me, she pondered absently. Maybe Peter broke me into a million pieces and I
don't know how to put myself back together.
She closed her mismatched eyes and went back to sleep, which was all she ever did anymore.
Screaming. It was happening….again. Amber looked around herself wildly, unable to wake from her nightmare. She
could see the elephants rearing onto their hind legs in alarm, and she saw the immobile body of a fallen elephant at
their feet. She jumped when she heard the first of the string of gunshots to ring in the air and then rocket toward the
remaining elephants. She covered her eyes, but she could still hear their screams.
Somehow, she was on the ground, sobbing. She looked up momentarily and saw herself lying a few feet away,
wearing the circus dress and bloody and bruised.
Peter appeared beside Amber and knelt beside her, brushing her hair behind her ear almost lovingly. Amber
shivered and tore her eyes away from her dream-self. She shut her eyes. But even still she could hear his next words:
"I'm not a monster," Peter murmured genially. "I just have an affinity for the theatrical."
Amber woke, drenched in cold sweat with her eyes heavy and her cheeks wet from sobbing in
her sleep. She felt oddly calm. Not numb, but…serene. She stood from her bed and went to look
at herself in the mirror. Her hair was slightly longer, and wavier, and her skin was like snow.
Her mismatched eyes stared tauntingly back at her, as if they were a constant reminder of her
ordeal.
As if in a trance, Amber picked up her brush and began to comb slowly through her blonde
locks. She stayed like that for a while; after an immeasurable amount of time, Amber began to
slowly strip herself of her sweatpants and baggy shirt, which had begun to smell. She hardly ever
got out of bed anymore, so she often went without changing her clothes. This was another thing
that never failed to annoy her grandmother.
She pulled on her favorite pair of hemp pants and found them to be two sizes too big. Amber
frowned: she had been thin to begin with, and now it was apparent she had lost even more
weight. She searched for her cropped hot pink tank top and pulled her long blonde hair into a
ponytail, releasing her round face from its confines of the past few weeks.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Amber's mother poked her head in warily. Her eyes
widened drastically when she saw her daughter out of bed and dressed. Amber gazed back at
her calmly, one eyebrow cocked.
"You're…you're up," Carol-Lyn stuttered.
"Yes," Amber answered simply.
"Are you, um, feeling alright?"
"Never better." A pause. "I'm going for a walk," Amber said and headed past her mother,
grabbing her coat (which had a fine collection of dust on it from disuse).
"W-where?" Carol-Lyn demanded, her voice high. How could Amber be acting so normal, as if
the past few weeks hadn't happened? Granted, Carol-Lyn didn't know the details of her
daughter's withdrawl but she had certainly suffered the side effects.
"Around the city," Amber called over her shoulder as she continued her path to the front door.
"Amber!" Carol-Lyn yelled, beseeching. Amber paused and turned her head slightly to the right
to show her mother she was listening. Her small fist clutched something tightly.
"Please….be careful," Carol-Lyn begged.
"I will."
And with that, Amber was gone.