Takeshi's Tunnel

 The clouds that formed overhead on your way to work finally begin to unleash their downpour just as you step out of your car, forcing you to run awkwardly to the front of the ClamCorp building to avoid getting soaked. Sprinting between lamp posts and other cars, you manage to make it through the door without anything getting too wet, shaking yourself off in the lobby. "Oh, good morning! Have you met our newest hire?"  The woman at the front desk greets you cheerfully, waving you over to her. "Uh, good morning. No, who's the new person?" you reply, brushing your hair back into place with your hand. "They're in charge of security! Very cute, I hope they do rounds on the ground floor." she swoons, fanning herself with a folded piece of paper.  Leaving her to her own imagination, you walk over to the elevator and hit your floor, letting it carry you up to the top. Passing by your colleagues, you casually wave hello on your way to Kyou's office, no...

 My name is ____ _____, codename Robin, and this is my report on the events of the last week. Barbara, I know you're reading this, stay out of my personal files. With Batman's attention divided between multiple catastrophes, he relied on us, his family, to help keep things peaceful on the street. Well, as peaceful as you can get in Gotham. It might be the city I love, and live in, but you can only ever really slow the tide of violence and crime around here. Sometimes it really seems hopeless, but we try to do what we can. In any case, we had gotten word that a bunch of Falcone's thugs were really stepping up their collection racket around Chinatown. I wasn't aware there were any still around after Carmine turned tail, but that's what our tip said.  Scouting from the rooftops, I could see a group of guys in trench coats going door to door between the establishments, but they didn't look like the usual Falcone goons. They seemed disorganized somehow, like they wer...

  "Come on... Just... One... More..." Saliva erupts in a fountain from your lips as you sputter through your last rep, the grips of the metal bar indenting in the skin of your hands. With one last burst of energy, you manage to push the barbell up off your chest and onto the rack before collapsing on the bench, sweat dripping from your face.  "One hundred thirty five pounds... Finally hit one plate!" you sigh to yourself, rolling off the side of the black cushioned bench and stumbling to your feet. After a brief stretch, you make your way to the bucket of sanitary wipes in the corner and grab a few, stopping in your tracks as the front door of the gym opens. The wipes in your hand begin to drip down your arm as you stare at what appears to be a werewolf girl strolling through without a care in the world, gym bag slung over her shoulder.  "Hey, all!" she calls out, tossing her bag to the girl behind the counter and weaving between the workout stations. Turn...