Prompting The Question, Week 4: Friday the 13th!

Welcome back to Prompting The Question, my weekly entirely unauthorized fanfiction prompt challenge series. Every week I bring you a new premise as a starting point for a short scene or story, to be read, reviewed and enjoyed by your peers.

This week, in honor of this auspicious day: FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH!

The theme of this prompt is Bad Luck. Pick one of your personal favorite, most beloved DC characters- ideally, the one you would least want to see hurt- and tell the story of a day where everything goes wrong. It can be as funny or as tragic as you want, but this is an exercise in making your darlings suffer. Part of writing well is the ability to let even your favorites go through hell.

Entries should be no more than 3,000 words, and adhere to all standard community guidelines. Bad luck!

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Friday the 13th

Garfield Logan woke up when he heard knocking on his door at Titans Tower.

“Come on, Gar, you’re late for our daily meeting. I have an appointment in a bookstore in an hour.”

“Coming.” He quickly dressed as Rachel Roth waited.

“So what bookstore are you going too?” said Gar.

“An occult one. I am doing research.”

“You’re going to an occult store today? But it’s Friday the 13th. Aren’t you superstitious?”

“I am a daughter of a demon, excuse me.”

“I just think everybody should stay in their beds today.”

“You’re a super hero. Act like it.”

After the meeting, where Nightwing talked about not going over budget, Gar ventured out to the real world.

Gar saw a black cat. He scared it away by turning into a pit bull, who chased the cat away.

He almost fell over a crack in the cement but turned into a snake, low to the ground

He watched a crew use a crane to lift a grand piano to a upper story apartment. He heard the coil break and turned into an eagle just in time to avoid injury.

He flew home quickly and hid in his bed, until it was time for weekly pizza from Cyborg.

He eagerly opened the pizza box but saw every slice had pieces of meat on it.

“What’s going on?”

“Sorry, little buddy, the pizza shop must have screwed up the order. Just mean more pizza for the rest of us.”

Gar ate tofu while the others enjoyed the pizza.

Later that night, he passed by Raven’s room.and heard loud chanting within.

Gar listened.

“Yes father, I got the last book we needed. Soon you and I will rule the universe together. Just be patient. Wait until the stars are aligned.”

Gar sprinted to the main room, hoping someone would be there, who would know what to do.

They were all there. Dick, Kori, Jason, Donna, Hank, Dawn.

They all had racoon eyes, like before.

“Come join us.”

"Come join us "

He ran.

                 #

Gar woke up in a sweat. He heard knocking on his door at Titans Tower.

“Come on, Gar, you’re late for our daily meeting. I have an appointment in a bookstore in an hour.”

The End?

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-normal day in Gotham-

The Dark Knight sat perched on a gargoyle, he looked in the distance and he saw Catwoman on top of Wayne enterprises. “Black cat” he muttered “ . With a small mechanical noise he grabbed his grappling hook and shot it to the building. He entered through the same place Catwoman did only to find Penguin. He opened up his umbrella. “Talk about bad lu…”
Penguin fired 3 rockets, one barely missing him. “What is happening today” he talked to himself. When he looked back he was gone. First penguin then Catwoman. “Now what?” He mumbled. He ran out and ended up running into mirror master “what is he doing here!” He yelled. Little did he know a huge mirror was about to fall on him, he looked up, he tried to duck but it only hit him in the head. “Bad luck isn’t real, get it together “ he told himself. Then he heard it. Pop, pop, pop he tried to duck… it was too late for The Dark Prince Charming himself.

A Day in the Life
———————
by Batwing52

For some reason the store only carried Camel. It was a store in England, for god’s sake, and they only carried Camel. What kind of Liverpool liquor shop only carries Camel? Wrapper in the trash, cigarette out the package. Lighter, end, mouth. Breath, out. Breath, out.

RiiiIIIiiiIIIii—

“Constantine, what’s your s**t?”

“Y’ ‘aven’t ‘ad any work in awhile, ‘ave y’ John?”

“Can’t be arsed. You?”

“Eh, same. I got sum’in I ‘ink ‘ll like, tho.”

“Mm. And what’s ‘at?”

“Exorcism. Old school. Lowuh level demon. Nothing ou’ of your reach, ‘course. I can send you the address…”

“How much?”

“Father says ‘e’ll pay forty pounds.”

“Tell ‘im fifty and I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Alright. See ya, John.”

“On your bike, Sam.”

“Aw, f**k y—”

Beep.

And then John Constantine proceeded to get entirely trollied.

“Aw, bloody hell. Whattime ‘sit?”

“Eleven.”

“At night?”

“Morning.”

The phone on the bar had about five messages on the screen. The exorcism. Sam.

“Oh, s**t.”

John ran out of the bar, throwing his coat on as he went and straightening his tie. He ran around the side of his four-door, and started the engine.

Candles. Chalk. Bloodst—. Oh, god, he forgot the bloodstones.

Click. Squeeeeeeeek…

The door opened, if it could even be called that, and John rushed into the messiest apartment in all of Britain: his own.

“Yes, I know I was supposed to come yesterday. Yes, I know you’ve already paid. YES, I KNOW. Aw god, where’s the f**king… Ah! There it is. Sorry? No, actually, I didn’t know. Yes, that was sarcasm. What’s that even—? I’ll be there in thirty!”

Beep.

He ran back out the door, down the stairs (the elevator had been broken for weeks) and into his car.

Vrr-vr-vrvrvrvr vr vr… click.

Vrr-vr-vrvrvrvr vr vr… click.

Stalled. You had to be s**ting.

“Taxi! Tax— yes, oh god, thank you. Here’s the address. Yes. Yes, I think it’s on the left… There. Thass it. Cheers.”

He decided on a smoke for good luck beforehand. Then he remembered all he had were two packs of Camel. Rather not.

Knock knock.

“‘Oo is it?”

“Constantine. John. John Constantine.”

“Right.”

The door swung open, on the ground was a boy about the age of thirteen, with black hair and sunken eyes, sitting in the fetal position on the living room carpet.

“He’s been like this for days. Won’t move, won’t respond. Doesn’t even blink.”

John knelt down, and thought.

“Okay, I’m going to need three things: one, a pint, I’m thirsty.”

“It’s barely noo—!”

“Exactly. Two, a pencil, and three, a matchbox.”

After the father had brought John his stuff, he got to work. He struck a match and held it to the end of the pencil so the eraser caught fire. Then he cut a pentagram onto his hand with it. With the wound fresh, he pressed his palm to the boy’s forehead. Immediately, the child got up off the ground, looked around. And asked the very obvious—

“Who the f**k are you?”

“An exorcist. You were possessed by a demon. Well, I’ll be off.”

And he walked out the door.

—THE END—

Sorry, that was my attempt at being funny. And British. It was awful. If you’re British, please tell me how terrible that was. Or how good it was. It was one of those things. Not the latter.

@Turok: Great Beast Boy vignette! Despite the Titans cast, it almost felt like one of the animated “New Teen Titans” DC Nation shorts in composition - though a little bit darker, as appropriate for the theme.

@ Anonymousbluebeetle I must admit, Mirror Master’s appearance took me by surprise, though it was certainly appropriate for the theme. I can’t blame Batman for being thrown.

I may not be British, Batwing52, but I’ll still say that that was hilarious XD

I happen to be rereading Jamie Delano’s Hellblazer run right now and it can get pretty dark, so this was a rightly timed breath of levity.

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@HubCityQuestion
Glad I could provide some laughs! Most of these stories are just things that I finish in my head as they go along, so if you enjoyed it I’m glad!

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