Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2013 18:12:14 GMT -5
Family
Story By: Spoiler
Heroes: Batgirl II and Spoiler
Villains: The Cluemaster, David Cain, The Electrocutioner
Spoiler:
“Dear Diary
3am, School Night, sooo tired. Robin’s avoiding me again. I don’t get it, one night we’re watching stars and kicking gangbanger ass, the next its all “Duty calls.. hasta la vista, Stephy” like I can’t help with a couple of punks robbing a 711 but not anything that matters. It’s so not fair.
And then there’s that other girl. Sometimes I’ll catch his trail and follow him and see him meet her, I got a better look last night. There’s something… creepy, even by bat standards, her face all covered up like that. I don’t know what to think, he was all animated, hands and arms, waving , and she was just standing there, all hunched up like a vulture or something, watching him windmill. I can’t make out their dynamic at all, I’m scared there’s something though, something I can’t measure up to. Just watching him, she was, like she was waiting for a kid to tire, ‘til he wound down like a clockwork toy, and then she was gone. I don’t like her. I want my Robin back, I don’t trust her, I don’t like him spending time with her.
Got back home, and dad’s up to something again. Why doesn’t it get better? I don’t understand… after what happened… how does he get out? Again and again? Why does he have to be back again? Why can’t he just be gone? Forever? I can hear him now, clattering about in the garage. He’s all animated too, crashing about down there, mom’s not hearing a sound above her own buzzsaw, of course. She’d sleep through Armageddon, I suppose it’s easy when you’ve shut yourself off from EVERYTHING.
He’s been planning something, I’ve seen that gleam in his eye, the smiles, the tolerance he has when he’s got a plan, before things go wrong and… before he fails and loses his temper, like he always does. Yowza! That was loud, I think he’s pulled the shelf down on himself, is it wrong, dear Diary to laugh? Poor daddy… the skunk! I hope it landed on his head. He’s going somewhere dear diary..there’s the door opener, the engine, tyres screeching, going somewhere fast… most probably to hell.”
Spoiler: Stephanie dropped the pen and stood seeing only the faint red of the taillights as the family car sped away. It hadn’t sounded like the usual activities, the careful planning, methodically laying the pieces of the plot, this was a panicked headlong rush. The house was a mess, strike that, it was always a mess, just now it was a bigger mess than usual, papers, tools, ‘I know who’ll be tidying this up’, she stooped to pick up a clip of ammunition. ‘Daddy leaving bullets?’ that didn’t seem right, I wasn’t right, plainly. Something had him spooked, something big, something that had terrified him enough to flee like this, leaving with only a bag to his name. ‘What could have scared Daddy so much?’ the light flashing on the answering machine was an obvious thought.
The message was short, a man’s voice, breathless, afraid, a fear that was very contagious, it sounded familiar, from the museum.
“Artie, get out! They got Titus, and you know as well as I do he’s squealing like a pig right now.”
Lightening flashed in her mind, it sounded like him. The man with the lightening in his hands, he’d put the fear into her father, and it was more than just fear of the Bat. The garage was still open when she got there, an oil can slowly gulping out its contents still as the wind caught the newspapers strewn on the floor. She pressed the close mechanism. He was gone… she hoped for good. Did she want to know why? The door ground downwards and as she looked at the paper stuck to the greasy puddle on the floor, she decided that she did.
--------
He was a big man, though much of the muscle had turned to fat, mainly in his head they had said. He had been strong, very strong, and that had given him value. Yes, he had been strong, at least in body if not in mind, but h had talked. They almost all did, it took a special kind of will not to talk. He had not possessed that kind of will, or nerve, or strength. He had talked, he had gabbled, he had pleaded, but it had not been enough, it had not been fast and it had not been easy, and now he swung, upside down, gravity pulling the fat towards his ‘fat head’, from the lamp post. They would recognize him, JUST, that was after all the point, they would see who was beneath the yellow and the purple, the red and the black, and pinned to his yellow shirt, a paper, crudely drawn and scribbled. He had talked… and his body now was a message too. –e-
Story By: Spoiler
Heroes: Batgirl II and Spoiler
Villains: The Cluemaster, David Cain, The Electrocutioner
Spoiler:
“Dear Diary
3am, School Night, sooo tired. Robin’s avoiding me again. I don’t get it, one night we’re watching stars and kicking gangbanger ass, the next its all “Duty calls.. hasta la vista, Stephy” like I can’t help with a couple of punks robbing a 711 but not anything that matters. It’s so not fair.
And then there’s that other girl. Sometimes I’ll catch his trail and follow him and see him meet her, I got a better look last night. There’s something… creepy, even by bat standards, her face all covered up like that. I don’t know what to think, he was all animated, hands and arms, waving , and she was just standing there, all hunched up like a vulture or something, watching him windmill. I can’t make out their dynamic at all, I’m scared there’s something though, something I can’t measure up to. Just watching him, she was, like she was waiting for a kid to tire, ‘til he wound down like a clockwork toy, and then she was gone. I don’t like her. I want my Robin back, I don’t trust her, I don’t like him spending time with her.
Got back home, and dad’s up to something again. Why doesn’t it get better? I don’t understand… after what happened… how does he get out? Again and again? Why does he have to be back again? Why can’t he just be gone? Forever? I can hear him now, clattering about in the garage. He’s all animated too, crashing about down there, mom’s not hearing a sound above her own buzzsaw, of course. She’d sleep through Armageddon, I suppose it’s easy when you’ve shut yourself off from EVERYTHING.
He’s been planning something, I’ve seen that gleam in his eye, the smiles, the tolerance he has when he’s got a plan, before things go wrong and… before he fails and loses his temper, like he always does. Yowza! That was loud, I think he’s pulled the shelf down on himself, is it wrong, dear Diary to laugh? Poor daddy… the skunk! I hope it landed on his head. He’s going somewhere dear diary..there’s the door opener, the engine, tyres screeching, going somewhere fast… most probably to hell.”
Spoiler: Stephanie dropped the pen and stood seeing only the faint red of the taillights as the family car sped away. It hadn’t sounded like the usual activities, the careful planning, methodically laying the pieces of the plot, this was a panicked headlong rush. The house was a mess, strike that, it was always a mess, just now it was a bigger mess than usual, papers, tools, ‘I know who’ll be tidying this up’, she stooped to pick up a clip of ammunition. ‘Daddy leaving bullets?’ that didn’t seem right, I wasn’t right, plainly. Something had him spooked, something big, something that had terrified him enough to flee like this, leaving with only a bag to his name. ‘What could have scared Daddy so much?’ the light flashing on the answering machine was an obvious thought.
The message was short, a man’s voice, breathless, afraid, a fear that was very contagious, it sounded familiar, from the museum.
“Artie, get out! They got Titus, and you know as well as I do he’s squealing like a pig right now.”
Lightening flashed in her mind, it sounded like him. The man with the lightening in his hands, he’d put the fear into her father, and it was more than just fear of the Bat. The garage was still open when she got there, an oil can slowly gulping out its contents still as the wind caught the newspapers strewn on the floor. She pressed the close mechanism. He was gone… she hoped for good. Did she want to know why? The door ground downwards and as she looked at the paper stuck to the greasy puddle on the floor, she decided that she did.
--------
He was a big man, though much of the muscle had turned to fat, mainly in his head they had said. He had been strong, very strong, and that had given him value. Yes, he had been strong, at least in body if not in mind, but h had talked. They almost all did, it took a special kind of will not to talk. He had not possessed that kind of will, or nerve, or strength. He had talked, he had gabbled, he had pleaded, but it had not been enough, it had not been fast and it had not been easy, and now he swung, upside down, gravity pulling the fat towards his ‘fat head’, from the lamp post. They would recognize him, JUST, that was after all the point, they would see who was beneath the yellow and the purple, the red and the black, and pinned to his yellow shirt, a paper, crudely drawn and scribbled. He had talked… and his body now was a message too. –e-