Under Control…
Part One
The end of sixth period, only two more until the end of the day. Kids were
swarming the halls at Brixton Academy in the usual crush between classes, trying
to change books at their lockers and push through the other students to their
next class, all in three minutes. The students and teachers were veterans and
used to it, it happened more than a half dozen times a day, five days a week. It
looked chaotic but the system worked surprisingly well, even allowing a few
seconds for comments and shouted insults along the way.
“Yo, loser!”
“Bite me.”
“Mr. Thacker, throw that and you’ll be spending the rest of the afternoon in
detention.”
“Whaddya mean there’s a quiz?”
Dick Grayson went to the boys’ locker room, heading to the third bay of lockers,
opening his padlock and changing into his gym uniform without conscious thought.
It was just another Tuesday.
“Hey, Dick, volleyball again?”
“Still, yeah.”
“Dude, your uniform is scoring some serious stench.”
“I’m taking it home today.” Well, he would now, anyway. Alfred would have some
choice words, no doubt.
Gray tee-shirt with Brixton Academy silk screened on the front and ‘Grayson’ in
magic marker on the back, gray gym shorts, dirty sneakers, all seriously ugly
and in need of a trip through the washing machine. Usually Dick preferred
brighter clothing, something he tended to keep to himself and which he blamed on
his circus background. He didn’t pay all that much attention to the talk around
him from the rest of the guys. It wasn’t that he was stand-offish, he wasn’t, it
was just that he was thinking about the text message he’d gotten from Alfred a
few minutes ago, reminding him about that he was supposed to meet Bruce at Wayne
Enterprises after school to talk about God knew what. Lately he’d been trying to
get Dick to show more interest in the business side and running of the company.
Boring. Important, yes, but boring.
Out in the gym he walked to his usual spot as the class half-heartedly started
the warm up calisthenics; jumping jacks, squat thrusts, five laps around the
gym. They were just about to start the volleyball games when the fire bell
started clanging, everyone automatically heading for the nearest exit when a
secretary’s voice came over the intercom, “Everyone go to their locker, get you
coat then walk directly out the nearest door. Please move quietly and quickly.”
That was weird; throughout the school year they always had at least one fire
drill during each school period so they’d know all the exit routes they might
need; it was part of the local fire code. They’d go outside, hang out for a
couple of minutes then go back in and pick up where they left off, no big deal.
Stop and get their coats? Sure, it as winter and around twenty-five degrees
today but they’d be back in pretty fast. This’d never happened before and the
buzz in the halls was wondering why the change in routine.
The students did as asked, Dick and his friends meeting up in the parking lot,
wondering what was going on as the minutes stretched on.
“Man, it’s frigging cold, what’s keeping them?”
“Someone just said there’s really a fire this time.”
“A fire? Where’s the smoke? There’s no smoke.”
“Maybe some poison gas got loose from the science wing.”
“You’re an idiot.”
Ten minutes went by, fifteen with no word and the teachers trying to keep the
kids quiet. A few sat in their cars; motors running for heat but most just
stood, shivering. At eighteen minutes the fire engine and ‘special services’
truck from the nearby army base rolled in, uniformed men running into the school
through three different entrances.
Another ten minutes went by, twenty. Kids started complaining about the cold,
especially the girls in short skirts with legs turning blue and students
dressed, like Dick, for summer in thin tees and shorts. Someone found a Frisbee
and was playing a game of catch to keep warm.
“Dick, aren’t you cold, man?”
“…I’m okay, I guess I’m used to it.”
“That’s the bomb squad, you think someone really planted a bomb?”
Dick, who had the cold weather training of Robin’s costume, snorted. “More
likely someone doesn’t want to take a test.” Some kid hadn’t studied; maybe
someone wanted to cut last period. There wasn’t any bomb.
The various professionals, firemen, police, bomb specialists, went in and out of
the school. Bomb sniffing dogs were unloaded from a van. This was going to take
a while.
Finally, more than an hour after they were evacuated from the building the word
was passed that they could just go home. It was almost the end of the day so all
they’d missed from this were the last two periods. No one was allowed inside to
get any books or belongings. Homework for the next day would be due the day
after.
“Man, that’s a new one.”
“I bet they don’t find anything. I bet they don’t.”
Dick found Alfred parked, waiting in the Bentley along the road and opened the
car door to be greeted by, “Exciting day, I take it.”
Glad for the warmth Dick shrugged as Alfred headed the car home. “Not really.”
It wasn’t until the next morning in homeroom that the word spread through the
school. No bomb had been found, no fire and not even any drugs. The searchers
did, however, find a freshly killed body stuffed into one of the dumpsters
behind the building.
TBC