TEASER!!
***
Something about the situation gives me pause. I'm not sure why that is, but I guess I'm just sensitive to that sort of thing. Whatever the reasons, nobody else seems to notice--or even care, for that matter. They're all still talking about who loves which other person and other pointless shit like that. What would they care?
Interestingly enough, I'm not the only one who notices the disturbance, whatever form it may end up being. I see a flaming redhead stop in the middle of hall traffic about ten feet away, much to everyone else's annoyance. Those Jagger and Kirschnickerdoodle (or whatever the hell their names are, I can't be bothered to remember at this point) bastards leave off yet another one of their physical pissing contests and scratch their heads at who knows what. And--curiously enough--that loudmouthed bomber jacket dude suddenly stops talking (much to everyone's profound relief... if only for a few seconds).
A prickling sensation lingers along my spine. Whatever's causing this is not going away, but getting inexorably closer.
That Finnish clown pulls out from somewhere on her person what suspiciously appears to be a set of tarot cards. She shuffles the deck and looks at it, a horrified expression plastered on her (admittedly cute, but don't tell her I said that) face. ...
The wall behind me explodes, sending debris and glass shards flying all over the place. Most everyone else is in an outright panic. In the midst of the chaos I hear a voice I never expected to hear again.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, we are today's entertainment!" A bunch of cackling greets this comment as the voice continues through a mouthful of shrimp cocktail. "Now I have just one question: Where is Professor X?!"
YOU ARE READING
Hell Comes to Gotham High
FanfictionJake (that's me, sorry...) doesn't know this yet, but the antisocial, anti-heroic, and enigmatic young tsundere man may be the kind of hero his new school--Gotham High--deserves when a slew of villains launch a war-like campaign against the school...
