AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, you've been paying attention, hmm? Great. I'm sure you'll notice that I've finished my very first multi-chapter story, "The Face of Matches Malone". I hope you paid as much attention to that as you do this story. Hopefully...

Felix: Anna, they're going to pay attention, alright, or they'll face the wrath of Stephano. I promise you don't want that.

Me: Huh? Oh, no...Felix, please don't.

Toby: Oh God DANGIT!

Stephano: Hey bros! Allos Pewdie. Tobuscus, and friend.

Felix: Stephano! Bro! I see you've met Toby and Anna already. They're nice people, nice people.

Stephano: I'm sure. Now, we all need to hide because Piggeh followed me here, and...wait, they don't know Piggeh, do they, Pewdie?

Toby: *groan*

Me: I take it you know Piggeh, Toby?

Toby: Unfortunately. I met him in a game of Amnesia. He sucks. Literally.

Felix and Stephano: HE'S COMING!

Stephano: Haha, "coming", I'm sure you get that.

Me: -facepalm- That's not how you spell...nevermind...

"Danny! I am so going to get you for this!" my sister yells upstairs at me. I had just stolen the last Twinkie. Using my powers of course. I never could have gotten by her without floating by, invisibly, and reaching through the cabinet door to retrieve the small, plastic-wrapped package that Jazz had hidden behind all of the breakfast cereal. Not very concealed if I do say so myself.

"Oh, Jazz! Honey, we need you to help us test out a new Fenton Ghost weapon!" my mother calls from our lab basement. I was supposed to be helping with the tests, but I had blown it off, saying that I had homework or some other ridiculous excuse. I couldn't let them get near me with those things. They could easily kill me.

"Can't Danny do it? He's unoccupied," Jazz yells back, not eager to help with our eccentric parents' experimentation. The last time she did, her hair got stuck in a sucker, and the time before that, she was doused in artificial ectoplasm. It was hilarious.

"No, honey, he's doing homework. He can't be bothered right now," my mother shouts in return. I hear Jazz groan, but she descends the stairs, slowly. Superhuman hearing helps when you need to feel good, I assume.

I lay on my bed, eating my Twinkie, the last at the store (Little Debbie went out of business). I sit blissfully for a few seconds, relishing the quiet. I rarely, if ever, get to enjoy the peaceful tranquil that most people in this town take for granted.

My thoughts are interrupted by a cold, blue wisp of air escaping my mouth. Duty calls.

A man in a light blue suit, almost as light blue as his eyes, sits at a desk, typing. He seems to enjoy the monotony of typing one letter after another, frequently having to push his glasses up onto the sharp bridge of his nose.

If only it were that way around him.

The Bullpen was in full swing. Everyone and everything was making sounds. There was no peace and quiet for the bespectacled man. Like it was ever like that anyway.

He was typing a short report on Bruce Wayne, the man of the hour, so it seemed. Gotham's White Knight. As well as it's Dark Knight, the man knew.

He raises his eyes, hearing a siren blaring, signaling that there had been a bank robbery. The man smiles, wondering when interesting things were going to begin happening that day. It had so far been a boring one. Until now.

The sirens blare louder, from all the way across town. Only the blue suit-man can hear them through the chaos of the Bullpen. Only he could hear them from that great of a distance. News would hit the Daily Planet in a few minutes.

And throughout all that chaos, no one noticed the bespectacled man slipping through the elevator, untightening his tie ever-so-slightly. Duty calls.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, that was the first chapter. I know, I know, it's REALLY short, but I made it that way on purpose. On purpose, so don't flip out on me because my chapter was so short. You'll live I promise. Plus, I left you with somewhat of a cliffhanger, so that means you'll hopefully want more.

P.S. If you don't know who the blue suit-man is, you need to read up, dude.