Gotham's Apocalypse (A Joke Story [Sequel to Cruel])

29: The Sign

It was hard to say, "I need a sign" without having a specific one in mind. What did I want, exactly? Did I want a detailed explanation of why he was wrong, in MLA or APA format, double spaced with work cited, or did I want a simplistic, "I'm sorry, I messed up."

It was hard to say, because I felt the overwhelming urge to accept an apology as little as column B, but I certainly was not going to settle for anything less than column A, using better judgement of my self-worth.

Primarily, I was concerned with the length of time it had taken for him to realize this, as it has been about two weeks. Two of the longest weeks of my life, with me tapping my foot during class nervously, earning a glare or two from fellow classmates trying to listen in on the Professor's explanation on the difference between operating on a child versus an adult, which, quite honestly is common knowledge, but apparently some Doctors and Nurses don't even know that babies require a specifically smaller syringe when receiving injections. Pity.

"Miss Jeanette," The professor's stern, booming voice rang out. I continued staring off into space, my finger resting upon my lower lip when I remembered that was my fake name. My eyes shot up to meet his angry ones, which held a bit of concern. "Speak to me after class."

Other students exchanged glances, some looked at me as I felt my face heat up. Great. Now I had to spend the last thirty minutes of class with even more abrasive thoughts in my head. This was going to be wonderful.

After class, I approached my professor, Mr. Tiduon, a man with grayed, fading hair, thick rounded glasses that rested upon his thick nose, and a pristine, combed beard that just barely exceeded two inches long. His angry eyes softened once he received no response from me, besides a timid look. "Jeanette," he started, before clearing his throat and stuffing his hands into his pockets. He relaxed. "I'm afraid you're slipping. I caught you daydreaming in class today. Five times. Whether or not you know the material, you need to listen in class, and participate. Especially when you set the bar so high by being my favorite student."I grimaced.

Five times. "Yeah. I, er, I'm going through some things right now, so it's hard to keep focused on the task, but I promise I'll pay attention and participate more on Thursday's class."

He studied my face, my ashamed and flustered visage, before letting out a light sigh, and another warning glance. "You know, you have a lot of potential, and I don't want you to let it all go to waste."I bit my lip and nodded.

"Understood. See you Thursday." I spoke, waiting until he gave a curt nod and cleared his throat before I turned around and walked out of his class, letting out a sigh. Sure, I was knowledgeable, I understood the material, and I practically breathed medical science, but what was I really expecting to do after college? Become a world renowned surgeon, work in a prestigious hospital, drive to work in a Tesla, then drive home to a loving husband and children, bouncing around happily as I bid goodbye to my nanny? That wasn't me, that was never going to be me.

What was I trying to prove by being here?

I shook my head at my thoughts. I'm here because it's good for me, because I have another chance at life.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, and took it out to see I had a news alert. A headline, since I was signed up to receive them. "CLOWN PRINCE OF CRIME BURNS THE WORD, 'MORPHINE' IN THE CENTER OF GOTHAM CITY, CREATES 3 MILLION DOLLARS WORTH IN DAMAGE".

I blinked hard, shaking my head. It was like waking up from a long dream. He did what?

I panicked, opening the link, and it brought me to the live footage. "-Where Joker has burned the name of his ex lover into the pavement using gasoline and ammunition to spark the flames, as you can see in the distance. I'm keeping a long distance in order to broadcast this to our viewers while out of harm's way, and boy, let me tell you, I can feel the heat of the words etched in the ground, and the heat of the passion radiating off the madman we know as Joker. Officer Brian Badey from the Gotham Police Department discussed earlier that this does not fit Joker's M.O., but they are trying to figure out the motive, and quite possibly what The Joker thinks he'll get out of this-"

I turned off my phone screen and shoved it in my pocket, gripping my backpack and slinging it from one shoulder to two, running to the parking lot. My heart was racing, I could feel adrenaline pumping through my veins as I jumped into my car so hard it caused it to sway. I shoved my seat belt into the buckle, starting my car before peeling out. I didn't even give it a chance to warm up as I drove ten above the speed limit to my house, parking in my driveway harshly before rushing into my home, opening my closet to find my old uniform. Miss Morphine's.

It was time.