The rest of the school day seems to pass at a rapid pace. My bag is slung over my right shoulder, my right hand gripping tightly at the strap while my left hand holds my phone and a couple of books. A small smile graces my lips as walk through the school gate.
Tim and Sam had both exchanged their numbers with me, the three of us meeting between the rest of classes that we didn't have together. I had two other classes with Tim; Economics and English whereas I had only had an art class with Sam. Thankfully all three subjects were my best ones. I was glad not to have looked stupid when around my two new friends and it was a relief that I did not.
Apart from the pros of having classes with the boys everything else wasn't satisfying at all. Tim seems to be the subject of everyone's conversations and many of them were about him befriending - and I quote - 'a piece of poor trash that doesn't belong anywhere near this school'. It's not like I care because I really don't. It just fascinates me how this school is just filled to the brim with students who only care about Tim because of his wealth and looks. I was surprised to find that Tim - despite only ever seeing him converse with Sam and I - is probably one of the most sought after boys in Gotham Academy.
"Where are you off to?" Sam sprints towards me, halting suddenly as he reaches my side. "Heading home?"
"Yeah."
"Sounds boring, Pop." He says, smiling down at me due to my almost abnormally short height. Sam looks behind me, smiling as he waves his hand. I turn to see Tim heading towards the two of us with a grin on his lips. His black hair shines in the sunlight causing the blue in his eyes to sparkle brightly. I swear it's not possible for this boy to become anymore beautiful than he already is.
"That's because it is boring, Sam." I chuckle and Tim quickly echoes.
"How 'bout you, me and Timbo here head to the park?" Sam nudges me with his elbow, jokingly winking as Tim groans dramatically.
"I told you not to call me that!"
"And I told you that I do not plan on stopping." Sam smirks, slinging a friendly arm over my shoulder. Tim rolls his eyes muttering an acceptance to Sam's previous offer.
We exit the school grounds, bickering on about absolute nonsense until we reach the large green field with a playground situated in the right hand corner. Sam squeals, grabbing my wrist along with Tim's and drags us along with him as he sprints forward.
"Shotgun on the left swing!" I yell, pulling out of Sam's grip as I run ahead of the two boys. I shrug off my uniform blazer and throw it onto the floor before jumping onto the swing. The two boys lazily make their way over to the other swing without noticing that there are two of them and only one swing left. My legs move in a repetitive pattern, the wind flying through my hair as I swing. I don't plan on giving up my beloved swing.
"Wait -" Sam says, but before he can even finish his sentence Tim shoves him towards the left and sprints to the swing with one swift and sudden movement.
I laugh as Sam stalks towards us, grumbling loudly. He stands behind me, his arms outstretched in the direction of my back. A deviously annoying smirk is plastered on his face.
"Wait - no! Sam, don't even think about it!"
He lunges forward, pushing strongly at my back, tipping the plastic on the swing. I squeal, quickly reaching for the covered chains. I glare at the laughing teenage boy, pulling the swing back to hit him square on the chest with my feet. Sam groans, gripping onto himself. Tim laughs, a melodic sound that catches me off guard slightly. I stop myself from staring before I can even start, my lips stretched into a smile.
"You're such a dick!" Sam jokingly yells at me, smiling at the same time as he grimaces. This causes Tim to only laugh harder and louder, his swing slowing to a stop. He teasingly wipes a tear from his eye.
"You two are like kids." He says, hopping off of his swing and outstretching a hand to help Sam off the ground. Sam takes his hand, rising to his feet. Both of the boys stand beside me, waiting for me to get off of the swing. I groan, tugging myself off of the moving plastic seat.
"Ice-Cream?" Sam asks, pulling out a wallet from his back pocket. Tim shakes his head, muttering a small no. "Come on, you're as fit as a fit person. You could at least have one ice-cream." I questioningly raise my eyebrow at Sam's words, a small smile finding it's way to my face. Fit as a fit person? Is he serious?
"Bruce would kill me, Sam. He has reasons to be strict about our diets," Tim chuckles, shoving both of his hands into his pockets. "But by all means, the two of you can go ahead."
"Fine." Sam says, grabbing my wrist and pulling me over to the stationed ice-cream truck that stays at this very park twenty-four-seven. I yank my wallet out of my bag, choosing the flavor of ice-cream that I had wanted.
Before I can even tell my order to the kind lady who works the truck, the loud bang of a gunshot rings through the air. My eyes flicker to the boys briefly, noticing Sam's scared expression and Tim's clenched jaw. Both of their gazes are fixed on several of the Joker's henchmen, their terrifying smiles piercing the the view of the park like a knife.
Is it worrying that my first reaction was a mixture between a sigh and a groan? The week hasn't even ended and I'm lucky enough to have run into these guys once again. The lady who was working behind the ice-cream bar had fled so fast she might as well be the Flash. Lord knows, we could use someone like him to shine some light on the darkened city that Gotham has become.
The Joker thug's advance closer on us, their clown faces as taunting as ever. Their faces all look the same, evil smiles painted onto their white as snow faces. They all don the exact same facial expressions and dark clothes, the tops of their heads covered by the hoods of their almost black jumpers. Each and every one of them look identical to the other.
I turn back to face the boys, only to find Sam standing alone with a panicked expression. My face scrunches up in fear. These guys never leave many living witnesses of their crimes and they hold one of the highest counts of murder in this city. Each of them grip their preferred weapons, ranging from knives to baseball bats to guns.
Nervous butterflies make an appearance in my stomach, my bottom lip trembling and my palms sweaty. Sam grabs hold of my forearm with a tight and protective grip, slowly pulling me back and away from the group criminals that work for the one and only Joker. He subtly nudges me, telling me to look to the top of the tree that's situated directly behind the thugs. And there, situated a top a stable branch is Red Robin. The black parts of his suit shines under the sunlight along with the silver, metallic staff that he grips tightly. He's quiet - the thug's have no clue he's there. I turn slightly towards Sam.
"Where's Tim?" I whisper.
"He'd gone to find help," He replies. "Guess he must'a bumped into this guy on his way back or something."
The oblivious thug's keep making their way towards us slowly, almost as if they were teasing us. Sam snickers, flipping them the bird as he keeps moving backwards. One of the men - one of the biggest - scowls at him, raising his baseball bat in the air as he readies himself to charge forward.
"Why you-"
"Hey, ease up! Boss wants this one alive." The thug in the front spits, pointing his finger at me. I stare at them, keeping what I hope is a good poker face.
Why does the bloody Joker need me alive? What is he playing at? For all I know, he's not one to chase down a victim let alone go out of his way to keep anyone as useless to him as me alive and breathing. All of this city knows and understands that that is just how the clown-faced madman works.
Red Robin glides down from his position on the tree, landing a strong kick to the face of a thug on his way down. His cape flies behind him as he turns, holding his staff with both of his gloved hands and swiping the weapon across the bodies of the thugs. He uses a mixture of blows from his staff and his fists, pairing them with kicks as he takes down each and every one of the Joker's men.
He fights gracefully, gliding from criminal to criminal and leaving each of them injured and unable to fight onward. The final man barely puts up a fight. Red Robin places all of his weight onto his staff, using it to balance his body as he swings both of his legs at the thug. One kick with his left leg sends the thug into the air and another kick with his right leg slams him back to the ground head first. With a groan, the thug falls unconscious.
"Are you two alright?" He huffs out, his voice sounding almost foreign because it's disguised. I nod, sighing as I fall to the floor, crossing my legs underneath me as I take a moment to comprehend what had just happened.