Batboys Lemons

{A night to remember} Jason Todd X Special Reader

First or last were the ones that would always be remembered. All in-between became blurred and we're easily forgotten unless, of course, they were different or special. And you were definitely special. You knew you wouldn't be the first and you weren't ignorant enough to think you'd be the last, but you would be remembered.
Because you'd be the only person to ever jump off the Wayne tower, with fifty-two lemons in tow. The Joker had once done it with one, but no one ever talked about it and most people didn't even know. You wanted to set the bar higher, hopefully too high to ever be forgotten.

Looking over the edge you saw the nauseating height and stumbled back for a moment. Would you be able to pull it off? You were over a hundred feet in the air, you couldn't even see the road. Could you fall in a flattering manner with fifty-two lemons from this height? Or would there be a photo in the news tomorrow that made you look like an idiot?

You took a deep breath before lunging towards the edge. But you couldn't jump, you didn't know why.

A voice came from behind, "okay so let me guess, your boyfriend left you and now you feel you have no reason to live?"

You whipped around to see a man in a leather jacket and red helmet.

Before you could respond, he started on a lengthy monologue about how he was the second robin but was killed, and Batman never avenged him.

"Hey, dude, you got this all wrong. I'm not suicidal, I just wanted to go down in history, and jumping off of Wayne enterprises with fifty-two lemons was the lowest commitment thing I could think of."

He stood there looking confused for a few moments, or as confused as one can possibly look with a crimson orb enveloping their head.

"You realize this could kill you, right?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at his ignorance, who had ever died from jumping off Wayne enterprises? Something always happened to prevent it, the insurance didn't cover it. But you could see there would be no convincing him of that.

"Look!" you shouted, pointing behind him, "a... Um... A..." Flying pig would be too obvious, "a turtle scuba driving with a milk cow."

"You don't sound too confident about that."

"It's hard to trust your eyes when you see a thing like that."

"Hard pass," he said, latching onto your arm.

No, you couldn't let your dreams be taken away from you like this. You had to fight, you had to try. That's when it struck you.

"Look!"

"Nope."

He proved a more clever creature than you'd been expecting when you'd first seen him. But what can one assume but that when one sees one who wears a helm that covers his facial expressions? Clearly not one smart enough to know the importance of nonverbal communication. He obviously didn't realize that could be the cause of his failing interpersonal relationships. You didn't really know if his personal relationships were in fact all failing. But if they were, it was probably that. You decided to tell him this but he didn't seem to care.

You were being pulled towards the stairs, even digging your heels into the ground didn't slow the nearing of the steps. He opened the door. You were out of options. You flung yourself forward and dug your teeth into his arms.

Somehow even with the helmet disappointment and embarrassment shown through at the accomplishment of this last deed.

"It's leather! You couldn't have honestly believed that would work."

You spit his arm out. Okay, maybe not the brightest idea you've had, but still better than when you decided to shave off your eyebrows because no one wanted to bring you to prom. You thought it would prove that you were impulsive and fun. In the end, all it really proved was you didn't know what boys wanted. Even your father refused to be seen with you.

You were starting down the stairs. And then the elevator.

"How did you even get in the building?"

You weren't about to answer that question. Spending the whole day hiding in the bathroom with a crate of sixty lemons hadn't been one of the highlights of your life. But it was the idea of becoming famous and never being forgotten that kept you in that stall. Even as the same people passed through and questioned why the same pair of shoes had been showing from under the stall all day. It was knowing that you would always be remembered as all those who said you'd never amount to anything slowly faded into obscurity, you would not.

He must have realized your silence meant you weren't going to tell because he didn't press on about it.

You were now nearing the door. All your plans of becoming famous, all the money you'd spent on the case of organic lemons (you needed people to know you had standards. Since when you inevitably became world-renowned they might find out about who you did end up going to prom with.)

He was pulling you out of the elevator.

Every night you stayed up training for this moment. Some might ask how you train to jump off a building with fifty-two lemons and the answer is simple. You don't. You just claim to have later when you're looking back on all the things you lost to get to this moment because you really didn't sacrifice much cause this was all a fairly recent impulsive get-rich-quick scheme.
How would you get rich off of this? You weren't quite sure but you were hoping it might have something to do with all the crates of excess foot cream you had lying around your apartment from when you reasoned foot care would have a sudden raise in demand because of the shortage of socks. As it turned out it was only a dream. However ordering 300 bottles of foot cream for 50¢ a container wasn't.

You made your way to the door, you couldn't go out like this, you needed to do something! Anything! You had to fight for your dreams! You couldn't just let them die like this!

"Look!" You shouted pointing behind him.

"I'm going to fall for--" he was cut off by a machine gun going off and having to lunge to the side with you in tow to avoid getting obliterated.

There was a enormous woman with short red hair trying to shoot him and yourself.

"Seriously, Suzie? Your schemes to kill me just keep getting more and more pathetic." He shouted back, throwing you to the side and returning fire. "Where's the creativity?"

This was you chance. You stumbled and took a run for it, a bullet nearly hitting you as you charged towards the door. It was locked, but a spray of bullets managed to hit the lock. You ran in. Rushing up the stairs. The sound of gun shots started to fade as you struggled up the steps. You got in the elevator. The wait was excruciating. What if he finished the gun fight? What if he ran up the stairs and beat you up there. And stopped you.

You readied yourself, and lunged out the door the moment it opened. Racing to the door you ripped it open. The night air hit your skin and without hesitation you flung yourself off the side.

It was then with the air rushing past you faster and faster you finally realized your mistake. The air was coming to quick to inhale, your eyes your shut as to not dry them. They was no news crew to capture this great feat! After all the work you'd done it would amount to nothing and you'd have to do it again!

You sigh, and then made impact.

The next morning you woke up in the hospital with the red headed woman laying in the bed to your left.

You found the news paper and it had gotten the whole story wrong. It said you were trying to kill yourself and happened to fall on Suzie Su saving Red hood's life. The executive lemon juice that was found on sight still remains a mystery.
This was all extremely disappointing. But what could you expect from mainstream news.

It was then you realized why, "written by Ray Ken." he'd construed the facts on purpose. He never got over the fact you wouldn't date him in high school, prom wasn't enough for him, and now he was bent of ruining your adult life.

Just wanted to know I'm working on one more story, then I'm going to be ending the book. It has been a long crazy ride, but I think it's time I set you all free.

Please leave a like and comment to thank me for being stupid! It isn't easy.