My Own Greek Tragedy - part 2

Words 2,708

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With clear frustration, you slam the book open, but even with the music on full blast, the sounds of fighting could still be heard beneath the blare of the trumpets.

"KEEP IT DOWN!" You shout. The sounds of their clash pause for the barest of moments before resuming with even greater force as though to annoy you more.

With what little concentration you still had you attempt to read.

The Titanomachy lasted for what some to believe an entire century, with the children of Kronos forced to live as wanderers and exiles, lest they be captured by their father.

You hear something shatter far away.

I swear to every god if another person comes flying through that wall-.

Another body flies through the throughout abused wall, which finally gives up the will to live and collapses entirely.

They don't hit the table like wannabe Flash, or the ground like the mini-superman.

No, this one comes straight at you in a tangle of white fabric, long red hair, and green limbs.

Wait, green?

Before you could process the thought they careen into you with the force of a full-grown linebacker.

You grunt, stumbling back at the sudden hit, but steady yourself before you and the figure in your arms come crashing to the ground.

One hand catches them around the back and the other falls beneath landing just below the bottom of their very short costume catching a handful of soft flesh. Not that you're complaining.

"Ow, my head," you hear her mutter. Then she turns in your arms looking up at you in surprise.

"Uh, hi!" she says cheerily even as she's covered in soot and scratches. "You know it's not safe to be here right now, right?"

"Yep."

Then her cheeks explode in a hue of red when she notices how you're holding her in the stereotypical princess carry.

"I'm really sorry about this," you begin without any apology. "but I promised to do this to the next person that goes through that wall."

She gives you an innocently confused look. "That's...okay? By the way, my name's Megan - OH MY GOD!"

Without any preamble, taking a firm grip on her, you launch through the now named Megan through the wall, or at least the space where it had once been.

Somewhere right before hitting the ground, she suddenly rights herself in mid-air giving you a look best described as complete and utter betrayal.

You shrug your shoulders in response. "Sorry!"

The girl who reminds you way too much of the Manhunter flies back into the gymnasium, leaving you standing in the broken remains of the Gotham Academy library.

You ignore the little glimmer of guilt that rises up in your chest, moving again to take your seat.

And of course, that's when your precog kicks in. Instinctively you go crashing to the floor as robotic voice drones in the background.

"Activate, Captain Atom."

A golden beam of energy tears through the air tearing out great chunks of the library, and incinerating everything in its path. Which would have included you if you hadn't dodged just in time.

Turning back to your study table, you're met with its destroyed and burnt remains, littered with innumerable pieces of shredded paper.

All your notes, all your books, gone, just like that.

"THAT'S FUCKING IT!"

You stomp straight into the gymnasium, unmindful of the aghast and surprised looks you're getting from the sidekicks.

You only cared about the robot that destroyed your shit. It looks at you with beady red eyes as you approach.

"You! You did this." You say holding a fistful of burnt paper in your hand.

The robot cocks its head before looking up into the bleachers.

Following its gaze, you see a short orange-haired man seated there with a pair of green robotic monkeys on his shoulder?

This day is just getting weirder by the moment.

"Amazo deal with him, please. Feel free to make it messy." The little man laughs smarmily.

"Run. Get out of there!" You hear the heroes shout from behind you.

The robot looks down upon you, as though judging the best way to kill you.

"Accessing: Black Canar-"

You snap your fingers.

The air turns cold.

The warning cries of the would-be heroes and the cackling laughter of the robot's master dies.

A hideous smile spreads over your face.

"You're all out of time."

Tick Tock.

The familiar weight settles in your gut as you rush forward bringing the full brunt of your body to bear in one punch.

Golden metal crumples like wet paper, and the pointy-eared robot's body contorts rigidly as it keels over on itself, still trapped in time. Another punch shatters its faceplate and scatters metal and wire into the air.

Turning on the creator of this homework-destroying monstrosity, you find him frozen with a victorious smile on his face, completely ignorant of the very angry meta-human/possible-godling...thing looming over him.

The monkey's heads explode in sparks and wires as they're crushed in your palms and you unceremoniously pull the professor high into the air by the scruff of his neck.

It's then that you recognize him, and all the information that Slade had drilled into your skull rises up.

Professor Anthony Ivo.

Former Director at S.T.A.R. Labs. Turned rogue scientist.

A genius by all accounts. He was a mad and cruel one as well.

Wanted in twenty-six countries on charges ranging from racketeering to crimes against humanity.

Subject and target of four separate international agencies each with quite a heavy bounty on his head.

High priority target for the Justice League, has eluded capture for the past five years.

Suffers from excessive Thanatophobia, the fear of death.

Oh, you're going to have so much fun with this.

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A series of fortunate and unfortunate events happened as time resumed its normal course.

The robot known as Amazo collapsed to the ground of the Gotham Academy Gymnasium, felled by an arrow through its head. Who fired it remained unknown.

Cadmus Othrys mysteriously disappeared from Gotham Academy, the only sign that he had been present during the night's events were the burnt remains of his study materials.

It was all deemed unsalvagable by rescue workers on the scene.

And perhaps most curiously of all, Professor Anthony Ivo, mad genius and international criminal, suddenly appeared dangling from the highest spire of the Hall of Justice, the base of the eponymous Justice League.

At the exact same time, the security field around the hall was activated, throwing the heroes within into a hive of activity.

"Superman, come take a look at this. Is that-"

"Professor Ivo," the Man of Steel replied grimly.

Wonder Woman was only more puzzled by the answer furrowing her brow in thought.

"How did he end up there? Five years we've been tracking him and now he just...appears right at our doorstep?"

"Technically he's above our doorstep." The Flash chipped in.

Before Superman could voice an answer of his own, the professor's one tether, his belt tied to the spire's tip, snapped.

With a shrill terror-filled cry, one of the most dangerous scientific minds in the world plummeted towards his very messy death.

"Flash,"

"Already on it," the empty space where the Red Speedster had once been saying.

The two superheroes tensed as they watched the scientist plummet ever closer to his death and just as he was about pancake on the streets below, he disappeared in a red flash.

Ivo's hysterical screams drowned any other noise in the Hall as he appeared within the briefing room.

The mad genius was frantically clinging to a very perturbed and clearly uncomfortable Flash while muttering gibberish and taking in deep gulps of air.

Of course, that paled in comparison to what was scrawled in black ink across his scarred features.

"Are those..." Superman began.

"Yes, those are dicks."

"They're very...descriptive."

Diana blushed softly.

"Oh, gross, guys I think he soiled himself." The Flash loudly complained. And to prove his point, a dark and very quickly growing spot appeared on the professor's crotch.

Few of the Justice League members present could prevent themselves from wrinkling their noses at the acrid smell.

The Dark Knight, as per usual, remained emotionless. "What's that around his neck?"

"It's a card. It says uh, wait a minute, I can't see a damn thing. Let me get this mask off-" before the speedster could accidentally reveal his secret identity to a known supervillain, Batman divested him of the card and began to read.

"Stop leaving your trash around for other people to pick up. I expect my payment promptly. At the end, there's an address included for a wire transfer."

"They expect to get paid?" Superman asked aghast. The Man of Steel could not comprehend that someone would do this out of anything besides altruism.

Diana gave him a pitiful look in response. "The League did issue a bounty for his capture, Superman."

"But no one was supposed to actually do it! Our accounts can't afford to just give money willy nilly to vigilantes!" The Flash exclaimed.

"You just wanted it for yourself." Superman ribbed.

The Crimson Speedster scratched the back of his head abashedly in response.

Truly the profession of a forensic scientist was an unappreciated one, and unprofitable as well.

"Well, what do we do, Batman? Batman?"

The Caped Crusader did not respond, staring at the card as though lost in thought.

The room fell quiet.

"The bounty will be paid," he finally said. "And send this card down for analysis. I want to know who wrote this by morning."

________________________________________

The Justice League analysis team was deemed incompetent after failing to identify the handwriting and was subsequently sacked.

Team lead Analysis Man was let go in disgrace after a lab fire that saw the evidence destroyed.

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The sun rises over a sleepy Gotham illuminating the city and its rays peeking through the shutters of your apartment. It would have woken you up if you hadn't been awake the entire night rewriting your entire essay.

Three cups of coffee, a half-built Jenga tower, and a litany of broken pencils lay scattered around your desk, or it was once was.

Now, most of it is on the floor.

But, just as your alarm clock blares to life, your last in-tact pencil clatters from your cramped hand. You've finished and just in time.

Now, some people would wonder why you put yourself through such torture that bordered on masochism.

Those people clearly had never met Ms. Aclis, to their infinite fortune. Now, all you need to do is get to school.

You stand up victoriously putting your foot out to take the first step, and immediately fall flat on your face.

Groaning quietly in pain, you find your legs had completely fallen asleep, and in your sleep-deprived state, the floor might as well have been as soft as a cloud.

Sweet darkness encroaches on the edge of your vision.

On second thought, I'll stay here. Just for a little bit.

You squint at your phone preparing to curse whoever would dare to interrupt your precious nap.

It's Rose. She's calling. For the fourth time, it seems.

Oh shit.

"Hello?"

"Cadmus, where are you?" Rose's voice.

"...sleeping," you reply groggily.

"You missed homeroom!"

It's been exactly two hours, thirty-seven minutes, and nineteen seconds since homeroom started, your mind helpfully supplies.

Your head slowly bangs against the floor. Why didn't I stop time? I can stop time! I do it all the time. Idiot. Idiot. I'm an Idiot.

You scowl at the phone as though she could see your reaction.

"Since when have you cared about school?"

"I don't, but I know you do."

That's surprisingly...thoughtful of her to think about you like that.

"Are you sure you're Rose? If you are then what's that little sensitive spot that you love for me to touch?"

"Shut up." Yep, that's her. Then the more pressing issue dawns on you.

"Oh man, the essay. Ms. Aclis is going to kill me."

She snorts in a rather unladylike and very Rose-like fashion. "You should have been there. She was like, Mr. Othrys clearly has more important things to do."

Her voice becomes overly nasally and condescending but you can't deny that it's a very good impersonation.

"Alright, I'm on my way. Thanks for the call, Rose. I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," she says lowly. "You're picking me up at six right?"

Picking her up? Why would you ever do that? You ask her as much.

"The gala, you scatter-brained idiot!"

That's today? Sure enough, it's December 31st, New Year's Eve.

The Wayne Gala starts in exactly seven hours twenty-one minutes and nine seconds.

"Oh...yeah! Of course!" you laugh without a hint of nervousness.

"Uh uh, sure. Bye, Cadmus."

The line cuts abruptly.

By then you're already up and storming out the door running like a madman for Gotham Academy.

Rushing through the grounds of Gotham Academy, and sprinting through its maze of hallways, bobbing and weaving like a pro-football player, you burst into Ms. Aclis' office in a flurry of movement.

"I'm here" you get out between your attempts to catch your breath. "And I have the paper,"

Your Classics teacher simply raises an eyebrow at your very loud and abrupt entrance. Her pen clicks shut loudly, and you see the veritable carnage laid out on her desk.

Dozens of papers, each of them marred and mutilated with crisp scarlet strikes. Hours of anxiety and desperate effort denigrated with the barest of pen strokes. It's so horrifying you have to look away.

"Mr. Othrys, a pleasure to see you, as always," she says primly with cold grey eyes.

"Unfortunately, the paper was due at the start of homeroom. And as you know, I do not accept late work. If that'll be all, I have papers to grade."

She returns to grading her papers as though you aren't even there, the pen leaving a red gory mess on some poor student's hard work.

Every so often she tuts and mutters under her breath.

"Idiot, Incompetent. Ignoramus. Facile trologdytes."

That's it? She's going to ignore you? And worst of all, she thinks you'll just let her, like you're just some human doormat?

Righteous indignation flares up inside of you.

No one tells Cadmus Othrys "No" and gets away with it.

"Ms. Aclis, I apologize, but I can't accept that."

She pauses abruptly looking up at you intently. "Oh is that so?"

You nod determinedly. "I spent five hours of my own time in the library studying for this paper. I had to deal with a bunch of sidekicks dressed in tights smashing my desk,a toaster with delusions of grandeur wielding a death laser, and I still got this paper done. If that couldn't stop me, I refuse to let tardiness either."

"A moving speech, I must admit." she pauses. "I will consider it. Give me your paper."

She swipes the proferred pages from your hand without even looking and immediately begins to flip through it glaring at the pages through her glasses as though they've personally offended her.

"You may take a seat while I look it over."

You wait anxiously for the sounds of her furious marking to resume, for her tear apart all your effort. Luckily, the very diverse selection of twenty-year-old magazines is enough to keep your attention.

Jimmy Carter elected President, one headline says in bold block letters.. Huh, that's news to you. Good for him.

All the while, your ears are turned towards Ms. Aclis, waiting for any sound to hint at her reaction. You didn't have to wait long.

"This...was very well written, Mr. Othrys, I can't say I'm not impressed by the work you've submitted. Now, if only it had been turned in on time. However, in recognition of your...unusual circumstances, I believe an A- is a sufficient grade."

"An A-, that's- that'd be great. Thank you, Ms. Aclis." You get out.

She hums to herself in response.

"If that'll be all, I will see you in class on Monday. Good day, Cadmus."

As you leave Gotham Academy, you realize that's the first time she's ever called you by your first name.