Duality

Delicate flakes of snow dusted the filthy grounds of Gotham City. Parents called their children inside anxiously as the sun began to set, just in time for Sal and Carmine’s boys to roam the streets. Jonathan Crane was walking back to his apartment when he noticed a woman sitting on the stoop, a thin blanket wrapped around her shoulder. The professor rubbed the bridge of his nose and pushed up his thin frame spectacles. It had been a long day at the university; the last thing Jonathan felt like dealing with was a bum on his stoop.

“Excuse, Miss?” His voice was gentle, laced with irritation.

The girl looked up. Her cheeks donned a light dusting of what looked to be dirt. Her bottom lip was split, some dried blood resided just below to cut. There were deep set dark bags beneath her dark brown eyes. She noticed the way his grip on the handle of his briefcase tightened greatly, his knuckles matching the color of the snow. A small smirk danced across her face as the professor approached her with caution.

Time sped up momentarily. Jonathan found himself standing on his stood, alone. Just as he stepped within arms length of the mysterious ‘stoop girl’, Jonathan was only able to catch a glimpse of a faint scar on the back of her neck. The professor shook his head and unlocked the door to his building before shutting it behind him quickly.

The professor pushed the image of those big brown eyes staring at him to the back of his head as he stepped out of his shoes and hung his coat in the hall closet. Every sound echoed in the apartment which was skeleton bare save for the essentials- a card table and two chairs pushed against the wall, kitchen utilities, a couch, a radio, a small antenna television, and a bed. Jonathan flipped on the small television and adjusted the wires on top for a moment until a clear picture showed up.

He listened to Vicki Vale babble on about something seemingly unimportant as he lit the gas burner on his stove and set a full kettle of water over it. From his briefcase, Jonathan pulled out a stack of ungraded papers and began to peruse. With some mindless background noise and a cup of tea on the stove, an evening alone with a pile of term papers was ideal.

Jonathan read through the papers carefully, taking note of each student’s greatest fear and what their break down behind it was. Occasionally, the professor would make a note on his pupil’s observations but for the most part it was only to correct technical problems. Over the course of the next few weeks, the professor had a very special lesson planned and his students served as an ideal study group.

Later than evening, just rounding midnight, Jonathan lay in bed. His glasses sat beside his alarm clock. Although his eyes were shut and his breathing had slowed to a rate of slumber, the professor did not find sleep. He lay still, running numbers and chemical reactions through his mind. Just a few minor adjustments and his newest project would be complete and ready for the lesson.