*In the farthest-from-the-door alley at Sal's Shoot-'Em-Up (a 24-hour indoor shooting range), Ted stood with his somewhat-shiny-but-mostly-matte-black Firestar 9mm pistol, holding it in a teacup grip (not that he knew what it was called, he'd just seen it on cop shows and stuff, and the teacher who'd been with him earlier in the night showed him ( Read more... )

*Dusk fell, and Ted left the house. The bus, the driver, the rag-thing, the couple. All routine. Tonight, he hummed a show tune (of all things) as he stared unseeing out the window, occasionally murmuring a few singsong words. Every night was a routine.* My time of day is the dark ti~ime...

*Ted strode the halls of Arkham asylum, occasionally shining his flashlight at something or other. It was another quiet shift, at least for the time being, something he didn't mind at all. Under his breath, he sings to himself.*

...sure as you can steer a train, you can change your fate...

*Ted caught the bus as dusk tightened its grip on Gotham and slowly dragged the city into true night. He was dressed for work, although he wasn't entirely certain he still had one. Still, it wouldn't be failure to show up that would cost it for him. He had stopped playing "These Boots Were Made for Walkin'" after about a day, although he still ( Read more... )

*In the middle of the night, Alisa sits on her bed. Watching the walls, and the faint pattern of the outside shadows that play upon them. Eventually, she moves to turn on her light, to her table, to write a letter. Left on her bed, with the sheets carefully tucked in, made up as if to deny her existance within Arkham's embrace.*

To Rosie, ( Read more... )

Opting for a slightly low-profile approach, Sirius decided to simply Apparate to Gotham city, and stood before Arkham Assylum. He gave a little sigh and hoisted a bag over his shoulder, unsure what to take or do, and so had brought a few necessities. He was sobre. His head hurt. And he looked slightly more pale and thin than a seventeen-year-old  ( Read more... )

Jane sits in her cell, straitjacketed and half drugged. Staring at the ceiling and waiting for...something.

Not just yet, Da.. Five more minutes..?For a moment, I almost forget that I'm not five anymore. In that muzzy moment between sleep and wakefulness, the scent of mint in the air reminds me of his pipe. A truly majestic thing, the way his strong hands would carefully pack the tobacco in and then light the match, the cherry embers atop as the fire ( Read more... )

*As darkness fell over Gotham, Ted bade Rosie and the other occupants of her home farewell for the evening, caught a bus, and rode to Arkham asylum. Slipping in through the front door, he made his way to the reception desk.*

Uh, hi, I'm Ted. The new night watchman?

Jane sits in the middle of her motel room, cutting faces out of magazines. Finally, she puts down the magazines and picks up her purse. Slipping the scissors inside, she heads out the door in search of a new "life".