1. Why So Serious? !The Joker!

Chapter 1: Why So Serious? !The Joker!

I'd known from the day I was born--well maybe not that early--that I was meant to save the world. Whether it be from evil snakes, like the ones that wrap around you and make you fart, or from Venom, the greatest villain of all time. Next to the Joker, of course. I knew I was supposed to do something great and I always felt the energy of a hyped up guy on RedBull when I thought of my destiny. Or maybe that was just my gut telling me I had had too much of Mom's stored away vodka and I was about to toss my cookies. 

She really shouldn't bother with hiding things with a superhero in the house. 

Okay, I'll admit, I'm not technically a superhero, yet. I just have to go through some DNA changing experience, like getting bit by a radioactive spider, or falling in a bin of toxic waste, or maybe watching the season finale of The Walking Dead again. That'd change a girl's DNA. 

I walked through the massive apartment my family owned and over to the bayside window. Opening the window, I poked my head through and looked around. There were people bumbling around like little ants down below in the cluttered city of Miami, Florida, hot dog vendors called out prices and offers loudly, people huddled in little crowds, and palm trees stuck up like little dots from the ground. Miami needed saving and I should be the superhero, I mean, why not?

"Elizabeth!" my mother called as she entered the apartment with my annoying step brother, my strict step father, and three bags full of groceries. 

"I told you, Mom, my name is Libby."

"Your given birth name was Elizabeth," she said strictly as she set down the bags on the island, "I should know, I was there." She proceeded to start pulling food items out of the bag and stacking them in the cabinets and on the counter. 

Our apartment was small, but large at the same time. There were two sofas, each one opposing each other and both were made of leather, a small coffee table sat in between them, our kitchen was out in the open, exposing the marble island, cherry wood cabinets, and four oak chairs surrounding a massive oak table.  There were four doors next to the dining table, one for Mom and Step-Monster's room, the other for Step Bother's room, one was my room,--which was the best room in the house, by the way--and the very last one was the bathroom. 

I plopped down on the couch and spread my limbs around everywhere. I knew that the step bother would come and try to poke me like it was Facebook, so I had to make sure he had no room to sit down. 

"Elizabeth, that is not how a proper lady sits, straighten your posture and stop lying on the couch!" Mother snapped, putting a can of beans away in the process. I groaned and sat straight, shooting her a glare as germy--or Jeremy, as his name somehow stated--waltzed over to me and sat next to me, jabbing his finger into my arm, he started to repeat my name over and over again, and in a new fashion, too. 

"Lizzie, Liza, Eli, Beth, Eliza, Elia, Bethie, Beth Bug, Libby--"

"Okay!" I shouted loudly, throwing my hands up and causing the step-monster to drop a can of peas. "What do you want, Germy Wilson?"

"It's Jeremy Wilson to you." he sniffled, holding his head high up in the air. 

I snorted, "Does that mean that your friends get to call you Germy, like the disease you are?"

"Elizabeth," I heard the step-monster boom, "that is not the way you talk to my son and your step brother."

"More like step-bother." I muttered under my breath. The little rat unfortunately heard me and jumped up, pointing his finger in my direction, he jumped up and down. 

"Dad! Dad! Beth Bug is being mean to me! Meanie!" he stuck his tongue out at me, while I flicked a certain finger in his direction. He gasped like he'd just had a heart attack and collapsed on the floor. "Your words hurt, sister dear." He panted and rolled around on the floor like it was a fire; well, my presence was extremely hot. I rolled my eyes at his theatrics and walked over to the island. Mom bought cookies again, ooh, my one weakness. As soon as I reached for one, she slapped my hand away. 

"That's not a meal, Elizabeth."

"I know," I grinned, "I never guaranteed I would eat a meal every night, where do you think your pint of Ben & Jerry's went last week?"

"That was you?" she gasped, seeming shocked about my confession. 

"Why so serious?" I hissed in a Joker voice, I had a dead on impersonation, I swear I was his twin, 'cept you know...good. 

"Now is not time for one of your kiddie antics," Mom rubbed her temples, angry at my lack of maturity. 

"'Kiddie antics'?" I asked loudly, "Excuse me! Batman is the greatest superhero of our time, I'm studying art! This is the classic dream of a true inspiration! Whoever created him surely knew what true talent was!" There was nothing more I hated when people dissed my superheroes. I lived in an alternate universe, it wouldn't kill Mom to appreciate it, because I'm not here annoying her. 

"Superheroes are figments of the imagination, Elizabeth, it's not realistic and it's idiotic, I best suggest you get rid of this little addiction towards fictional beings before college comes."

"College people won't care about whether or not Superman can kick Batman's butt, which he can't, but it's not like they'll pay attention to me anyway. No one in high school ever does. So why should you care about whether or not I put on Flash pajamas and watch reruns of the old Hulk movies? 'Cause you're not me." I put my hands on my hips. 

"I never wished to be." she hissed. Ouch. That hurt. Shaking off my stunning amount of pain towards this comment and the step monster's laughter at my abashed expression, I sulked off to my room and grabbed a DVD case. Opening the DVD, I shoved the CD in the video slot where the movies went. Plopping down on my futon, I cuddled up with my blanket and grabbed the stash of potato chips that I kept in my night stand drawer, which was massive. 

It was time to go with my best method of coping, which was watching Batman and pigging out on junk food. 

Ah, Bruce Wayne was a really good guy. 

He didn't hurt my heart like my mother did, either. 

2. Oh My Stars and Garters !Beast!

I had seen a lot of villains in my day. Venom, the Joker, the Penguin, Syndrome, Bane, and Loki, but there was no villain greater than the one I faced now.

She had long curly blonde hair that fell freely down her shoulders in golden waves, a glimmering smile that hid her obvious evil, and bright green eyes that reminded me of poison ivy, the plant, not the villain. She was in a cheerleading uniform because like in every cliché high school hell hole, the villains were always part of some clique that was above the storyteller, her stunning red heels looked like they could kill someone, or she looked like the fraternal twin of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Only bad. Really, really, really bad, like evil and disgusting and vile.

She was currently applying lipstick while walking slowly, a hazardous event that could get her reputation killed, but she managed it easily. She was gossiping like an old woman, running her free hand’s fingers through her locks. What she was talking about wouldn’t be hard to guess.

The cliché new bad boy had arrived and she was buying everything that he was selling.

Despite his obvious issues.

Some people called this girl the saint of Notre Dame, the perfect essence of beauty and sincerity.

I called her a few names that I should not be proud to say are in my vocabulary.

She’s perfect from her head to her toes.

Meanwhile, I’m starting to lose sight of my toes.

Her name was Lucy Hemmings and I’m sure she knew that I, Libby Trucco, could never compare to the beautiful stature that she held up. Lucy was the kind of girl that liked to flaunt her obvious popularity in the faces of those who didn’t even know what a Tumblr was. Like me. I was still trying to scroll to the end of it, that was my only reason for making an account, just to reach the end of the social network, but I was not having any luck in that area.

I could see why she picked on me, really, I could. I might’ve packed just a little too heavily on not only Mom’s delicious vodka, but the Chips Ahoy cookies that she left lying around on the island last night. I had the hair color equivalent to dishwasher water that went to my shoulders, an repulsive shade of dirty blonde, wide, almost too wide, brown eyes, too-full lips (even though Mom insisted your lips can never be too full), and my fashion choice was that of a prepubescent boy.

I almost wanted to zip up my jacket over my HULK SMASH! shirt as she glanced over at me.

Lucy’s lips automatically curled into disgust and she started to walk over in my direction, surely getting ready to tease me once again. Thankfully, I was prepared this time with a stack full of books and an oddly, newfound incentive to get to class early.

“Look at what the cat dragged in,” she drawled in her apparent southern accent. Lucy’s family had moved up from the south about two years ago and she still hadn’t lost that stupid, sweet ‘southern belle’ accent that I loathed so much. I mean, if I was gonna save the world one day, I wanted to have an accent, too.

“Yeah,” her goony, Ruby, sniggered, “and the cat didn’t waste no time sinking the ugly claws into you, now did they?” Ruby was just the girl that went along with everything, I swear the chick was brainwashed. Her name did not suit her previously black hair, so she dyed it red, obviously the chemicals in the dye seeped into her brain and poisoned her thinking process because before Lucy moved to this blasted place, I actually had her as my only friend. Ruby and I used to be best friends, she’d comb through my hair and say I looked just like Aurora the princess. I told her I was more of a reading comics kind of girl than a princesses and faeries type of gal.

Anyway, her red hair and her brown eyes coupled with the fact that she had a flawless complexion added up very well in her favor, so once she had ditched the crazed superhero crack female dog, in her exact words, she was set. She had done more dirty things in these past two years than my mother had actually asked me about my superheroes. Let’s face it, after three times, she was done hearing about the fandom battle between the Supermanians and the Batmanites. So, if she had surpassed even one dirty thing, that was a complete and utter disappointment to me, Ruby deserved to have a better life than being dumped by guys who used her.

“Yeah,” Lucy commented and was about to push it further when someone else caught there attention. A boy had slipped and fallen in the hallway and they both strutted over to laugh and poke fun at him. I felt bad, but I needed a mask in order to stop her evil or else I’d never be able to stand up for myself.

It was just one of the many oddities about me.

***

It was after school and I had somehow managed to piss off my English teacher during our very important lesson on limericks, believe me, I was doing a favor. We were bored out of our minds and I just so happened to accidentally yell out ‘teach something fun’ and make him grow red in the face. It’s not my fault he was easily angered.

“You may go, Elizabeth.”

“Libby.” I corrected him, picking up my bag.

He grinned at me, setting down the paper he was reading, “Oh, I know, you made me mad so now I’m gonna make you mad.”

“Easier said than done, geezer,” and with that, I shot off, hearing him call out my name from behind. No doubt he’d give me hell for that tomorrow. I was almost to the main exit doors when I heard a gasp and a sputter, then a repeated thump. It was coming from the science labs, which I knew for a fact I was banned from ever since I ‘accidentally’ spilled all of the ‘highly toxic chemicals’ over Lucy’s bag. Oops.

Slowly pushing the door open, I saw what caused me to go into superhero mode. A boy was taking a beating. This boy happened to be the extremely cute jock and crush of my dreams, Troy Linden. It almost bugged me how cliché my life seemed at this point, the nobody lusting after the big, dreamy football jock whom we all knew in reality she would never achieve. Life didn’t work that way, Lucy would get him or Ruby or someone with a prettier face. Like I said, completely cliché.

Who was beating down on him shocked me even more. It was the new boy and if I knew his name, I’d insert it right about here.

“Stop!” I screeched. Both boys turned to look at me. The new boy dropped Troy and he sent a relieved look in my direction. I almost jumped for joy, I was happy if he was even in my line of sight, let alone looking my way.

“What did you say?” he growled.

“Do you not have ears? Are you Deaf?” I gasped, placing a hand to my heart. Damn my short focus, he looked even more pissed than before.

“I thought I heard the word ‘stop’ but a pretty girl like you wouldn’t be so stupid as to threaten her face by stopping the stronger, more muscular boy, now would she?” he stepped forward mockingly, his tone matching his demeanor. Mocking. Sarcastic.

“Yes she would,” I boomed in my biggest voice, which sounded like Minnie Mouse’s squeak when it compared to his bass voice. “Troy, you can go.” Without another word or even a dash of concern for myself, as I was signing up for death, he rushed out of the room and shortly after we heard the doors shut.

“You idiot,” he seethed, clenching his fists together as the knuckles grew white. His black hair was pretty good looking, I had to admit, and his brown eyes, and his lips, and basically his entire face. His hard, chiseled body was tense under the tight white t-shirt, dark washed Levi’s, and beaten down Chucks. All-in-all, I was literally screwed.

“I can’t help it if I feel that maybe not everyone deserves to die.” I took one step back and moved my bag so it was protectively sitting in front of my gut so if he tried to punch me there, he’d get a fist full of math textbook.

“Die?” he chuckled, stepping forward as I stepped back again, “Sweetheart, clearly you’ve never seen me fight. If he was gonna die, he would’ve escaped here with at least a broken arm.” I shivered internally at what he was implying he could do. I didn’t doubt his ability to break limbs, I just didn’t want to experience what it was like first hand. When he stepped forward again, I stepped back, we repeated this until I was pressed against the wall and he was using both of his arms on either side of my head like a cage, trapped there.

“I-I-I have a bus to attend,” I managed to choke out. It was true, the four p.m. bus was gonna leave pretty soon and if I didn’t catch it, my mom would kill me if she had to pick me up, because heaven forbid she actually do something kind for her daughter.

His head dipped down, nuzzling his face into my neck, “Well isn’t that a damn shame,” he murmured, I could feel his grin as I shivered aloud, which I cursed myself for because even the Hulk wouldn’t give away his ability to turn green whenever he got angry as quickly as I let out unpleasant sounds.

“Look,” I started out, placing my hands on his chest and pushing him with all my might, he wavered a few inches, but I dashed out of his hold before I could be trapped again, “I get it that you’re pissed I made you miss a good brawl, I’m sorry if I feel a bit of compassion for the human race. How ‘bout this, I don’t step in another fight and you let me catch my bus?”

He looked like he was thinking it over, but when a smirk flashed across his face, I knew I had lost the battle with more defeat than Two-Face in an all-out fist-fight with Batman. “I don’t think so…you’re a pretty interesting girl, I can’t just leave you…what is your name, oh-so graceful girl?”

I blushed and continued, “Libby Trucco, and you?”

“Xander Lysander,” he grinned, stepping forward. Making me jump back and hold my bag up so it protected my head.

“Oh my stars and garters, don’t kill me!” I cried. He started laughing loudly and strolled up to me. I almost jumped again when I felt his hands rest on my hips, slowly pulling down the bag, I saw him looking at me as if waiting for me to realize something. Looking over at the clock, I noticed it was 3:55, the front door was just a hairsbreadth away.

“What?” he asked, as if noticing my anxiousness.

“I’m so sorry.” I apologized throwing my hands up in a surrendering motion before I thought over the move I was about to make again and again.

“Wha—.”

He didn’t have time to reply before he was on the ground cupping Mini Xander in pain and I was dashing out the door.

My last words were, “See you on the flip side, Lysander!”

Hello! Hope you like this new installment, I AM TIRED, SO VERY TIRED.

Lawlz,

Riley Waverly. 

†3. Kneel Before Zod !Zod (Superman II)!†

I had no shame.

I mean, I always knew that, but it really showed when I went down to our apartment lobby at six in the morning after just waking up in my favorite Deadpool pajamas. My hair was a mess, it looked like something had died in it, I was sure I had purple bags under my eyes from the lack of sleep because I wanted to finish watching the Doctor Who marathon that was running on all night—what kind of girl could pass that up without feeling guilty?—and I was completely swamped. Kind of like being wasted, only ten times worse because it’s not a vodka or Jack Daniels hangover that I’m experiencing, it’s a sleep hangover which somehow wreaks more havoc on my system than your average cake vodka bottle.

“Look at the pretty princess,” someone called from beside me, making me jump and drop the key to our mailbox. I knew that voice, I really did, but it hadn’t hit me until after I picked the key up.

“Lysander,” I nodded, opening the box and grabbing the envelope, nodding at his pants, I grinned, “How are the boys?” He grimaced as I brought up that topic of conversation and I swear he was flipping me off in his mind. Don’t ask how I knew that, superheroes just got this feeling deep in their gut, or maybe that was indigestion. I really needed to speak to a doctor soon.

“You’re a complete and utter weirdo, you know that?” he asked, nodding at my attire, which besides the short sleeved t-shirt with Deadpool on it and the boy boxer shorts with hearts stamped all over them, consisted of a pair of fox slippers. It wasn’t the fanciest thing a girl could wear to bed but it was freaking comfortable.

“Yeah, I do, I was diagnosed with weirdosity when I was seven.”

He started full out laughing.

“Hey,” I snapped, slapping his shoulder, “don’t laugh, it’s a serious disease, I’m never gonna be cured! It’s like, tragic,” I sighed dramatically, placing the front of my hand on my forehead and tipping my head back, pretending to faint.

“So I’m assuming this isn’t what you’re going to wear to school today.” He raised his eyebrows and almost looked disappointed as I confirmed his suspicions.

“Someday maybe,” I muttered, “when the Stiletto Squad isn’t out to out-female dog me to death.”

“Yeah,” he let out a breath, running a hand over his mouth, “sometimes the worst people stop us from doing the best things.” I knew that, I could relate from experience. One time I wanted to set Jeremy on fire but the step-monster told me it was dangerous and evil and, worst of all, murdering. So, I guess that dashed my ideas of seeing him run around like the lyrics from a Fall Out Boy song.

“Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here?”

“I live here, sweetheart. My sister and my mom and myself, all of us live in what is called an apartment, crazy isn’t it?”

“No,” I shook my head, “the thought of apartments was pure genius. They saved so many street hobos and other weird people from living in the colder nights of Miami, so…” I trailed off when I caught his exasperated face, “You were being sarcastic, weren’t you?”

“You know, for someone who probably has a higher GPA than my entire family combined, you’re really stupid.”

“Thanks,” I smiled, shooting him a toothy grin as I dashed back upstairs and began to change for my day.

***

Blake Richard really wasn’t a bad guy. I knew that and even Ruby knew that. So why she was letting Lucy push him around like he was a piece of nothing was beyond me.

The kid was pushed out into the world with a target on his back.

The big glasses that took up half his face, the greyish eyes, tousled brandy hair, and smaller build was just a big kick me sign in itself. He was wearing a sweater vest, a pair of black trousers, and some Chucks. Oddly enough, in my fashion sense, I think the sweater vest suited him very nicely.

“Whatcha starin’ at, princess?” I would’ve jumped, but that nickname was all too familiar from this morning’s encounter with one of my new neighbors.

“Poor kid,” I muttered, still ignoring Xander as I watched Lucy slap the little boy around, making his cheeks go red and then she knocked his glasses on the floor, leaving them skidding across the hall until they landed at my feet.

“I’m gonna do something,” he murmured, picking up the glasses and walking over to the boy. I knew he was Blake Richard, that’s what I had started this whole rant out with, he was in my history class, I knew because he was the smart, geeky nerd that always knew the answer to the world’s greatest mysteries. I bet the kid could tell us why we drove in a parkway and parked in a driveway.

Before I knew it, Xander had pulled the now shocked Blake to his feet, handed the unlucky boy his glasses, then walked over to where Lucy, Ruby, and some other chick with white hair stood, looking shocked and slightly angry.

“Sadie, you know this isn’t right,” he crossed his arms over his body as Blake stumbled around the hallway, trying to figure out where to go and why the bad boy had just defended him. I grabbed his arm and pulled him over to my side faster than you could say ‘kneel before Zod’.

“You okay?” I asked, straightening his glasses with my hand as my other one still acted like a clamp around his wrist so he couldn’t escape.

He gulped, seeming shocked that a girl would talk to him, “I’m fine,” his voice cracked and he frowned as he realized this. I swear sometimes this boy was just too cute, I didn’t know him, but I’d see him flush whenever he’d catch me glancing at him in the hallway.

“Well, that’s great,” I grinned, “I’m Batman—I mean Libby Trucco.”

To my surprise, he actually laughed, giving me a small, innocent smile, “Blakely Richard.” I never knew his full name was Blakely, I just heard the chess geeks—I mean some of his dearest friends—call him Blake, so I assumed it was his name.

Before I could tell him how awesome his name was, the argument between Xander and the girl he called ‘Sadie’ escalated.

“You’re a prick!” she threw her hands up in the air.

“I’m trying to steer you from the wrong path. You can’t honestly tell me, Sadie Adele Lysander, that you think bullying that poor boy who did nothing to you is something you look forward to in the future.” At the mention of the word bullying Sadie bowed her head in shame and muttered a faint apology towards Blake whose mouth lifted up in a half-smile. Wait? Lysander?

Didn’t Xander say something about a sister earlier this morning?

His sister looked like her hair was as pale as her face, seeming to be following the Ruby method of doing things and changing her natural hair color. Don’t do the Ruby method.

I mean, while I hated the color of my hair, I wouldn’t dye it, because the evil mean girl chemicals could seep through my skull and poison my thoughts and I don’t know about every other eighteen year old girl, but I like my thoughts poison free.

Just like the Joker liked winning against the Batman, not that that’d ever happen. Ugh, just the thought of it is so repulsing.

As was the thought of anyone being mean to Blakely like I had been tortured my entire life.

Impressum

Texte: @TheDrunkDuckling or Riley Morgan Waverly
Bildmaterialien: To a great user on Wattpad who goes by the username TheseNights seriously, if I hadn't found the cover making forum on Wattpad, I would not have this awesome cover that I do now.
Lektorat: @TheDrunkDuckling or Riley Morgan Waverly
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 24.06.2014

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