Paper Planes

XXXIII

"I think a lot of psychopaths are just geniuses who drove so fast that they lost control."
—Criss Jami

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Let's turn back the clocks... again...

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Ember lounged against the leather sofa, nose buried in a carton of chocolate chip ice cream as she dug the spoon deeply into the container.

Reruns of Friends played mindlessly in the background, her pink polka-dot drawstring pajama pants clinging loosely to her hips.

Her mobile lit up beside her hip, a curious brow raising as her adoptive mothers name flashed across the screen.

The woman sighed in annoyance, not entirely wanting to spend the next forty minutes on the phone with her mother as she hastily answered, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder.

"Hello?" She mumbled through a mouthful of ice cream.

"Is Noah working today?" Georgia DeLoughrey demanded, her voice full of concern as Ember's brows knit together in confusion.

"Uh, yeah? Why?"

"Turn on the news. Now." Georgia clipped, failing to provide any further information as the line went dead.

The metal spoon toppled from Ember's grasp, slipping into the paper carton as she quickly placed it on the wooden coffee table where her bare feet lay. With slightly trembling fingers, the woman retrieved the remote, switching off her favorite show to reveal the Gotham News.

Her heart began to race, palms growing clammy as the television screen settled on the Gotham City News. Displayed on the screen was an image of the Gotham General Hospital, surrounded by chaos as hundreds of individuals fled the scene.

Noah.

An extreme ill feeling suddenly settled in Ember's belly, her fingers fumbling with her mobile as she rapidly dialed her husbands number.

Her gaze lay glued upon the television screen, eyes widened and barely blinking as they steadily videotaped the outside of the Emergency section of the building.

The phone rang six times, leading directly to voicemail as Ember's blood ran cold in her veins.

"No, no, no, no..." She frantically murmured, redialing Noah's number promptly as it began to ring again.

Her slightly faltering gaze returned to the screen, jaw falling agape as the telephone rang mindlessly in her ear.

A man had appeared in the frame, dressed in a white hospital gown that just barely grazed the tip of his knees. A white, painted face, accompanied by black ringed-eyes and a bloody grin stumbled in the direction of the camera, accompanied by an abundance of explosions erupting inside the building.

The mobile phone slipped cleanly between Ember's shaking fingers, toppling to the carpet as the feeling in her legs vanished entirely.

She knew exactly who he was. The fucker had been causing quite some uproar in Gotham recently, and seemed to have a bit of a fetish for the notorious Batman.