Chapter Twenty-Three: Day One
day was unusually frigid as Luthor stepped out to get to the limo. As
soon as he entered, he felt the warmth overpower the cold air from
outside. He was in a good mood, incredibly. He had just sealed a deal
with Wayne Enterprises (to the reluctance of a Ms. Wagner and half of
the board of directors). He had heard after the unfortunate deaths of
both Wayne and Earle that the company had decided that rather than
appoint a new head, that they would put control of the company in the
hands of the board until they deemed it... safer for their employees.
allowed for him to easily allow 'democracy', meaning a near half and
half vote, to decide if they'd do business with him. And with a few
extra dollars in their pockets... well, that could go a long way. Of
course he had been slightly surprised that Slade had targeted Earle, but
whatever Slade was doing wasn't his business. His first thought was
that Slade was attempting to cover up Wayne with a mess of murders, but
knowing Slade, Luthor had a feeling that there was more to it than that.
that it really mattered. As long as it didn't cut into his business, he
didn't care. Luthor drove down the streets of Metropolis. After such an
excellent deal, he felt the urge to go down to Cadmus himself to
deliver him the shipping details. Glancing outside, Luthor saw a streak
of red and blue pass by him. Wouldn't he be glad when there was a day
that he didn't look up and see that. He felt that birds and planes were good enough.
arrival, Luthor stepped out and walked immediately towards the doors.
He didn't like the cold. Once inside, he took off the jacket and let an
assistant take it. Walking down the hall, he eventually found
Westfield's office. Unfortunately, he wasn't in his office. Resisting
the urge to growl, Luthor walked down the hall, looking through the
construction rooms' windows. After a minute or so, he finally found
Westfield. Storming into the room, Westfield turned to see Luthor in
"Mr. Luthor, what are you doing here?" He asked.
"How's that technology piece I ordered coming?" Luthor asked back.
bit his tongue and slowly answered, "The sonic cannon is... well,
mostly up and running. But the technology we have is having a hard time
converting the... um, the..."
"Well, then, you should be happy with this news," Luthor told him.
motioned for him to follow him. Westfield told the workers to take five
and followed Luthor back to his own office. Luthor walked up to the
desk and sat behind it, trying hard to ignore the pictures on the desk
of Westfield's family.
"I've just sealed the deal with Wayne Enterprises. Project Xeno-mineral is ours," Luthor told him.
"Project Xeno-Mineral, sir? Is that the final component?" Westfield asked.
Luthor sighed, "Well, yes, considering your people can only seem to duplicate other people's designs."
"We were right on the verge of..." Westfield began, but was cut off.
on the verge of telling me that you're not satisfied with your pay,
right?" Luthor interrupted, "Dr. Westfield, if your people could have
come up with this sort of thing, then they're in serious trouble because
I would probably fire them if that was the case."
Westfield remained quiet for a moment before continuing, "Well, what is the extent of Project Xeno-Mineral's files?"
chuckled, "It has the ability to break down the mineral to its base
form, and reconstruct it into almost an anti-mineral form. Afterwards,
it converts it into a form of energy. They were going to test other ways
to convert this matter, but stopped there."
"And by mineral, you mean... Kryptonite?" Westfield asked.
smiled, but answered, "I never said that, but then again, what other
Xeno-minerals are there of interest? What I'd like your people to do is
to take out the portion of the machine that converts it into
anti-Kryptonite. There's no reason to make Superman stronger, after
"And then you'd like us to use the energy with the sonic cannon's design?" Westfield ended.
"Precisely," Luthor said, "You can do that, right?"
"Should be easy enough," Westfield informed him.
got up, satisfied. At least they could do that right. Before he got to
the door, though, he turned around, "How's the cannon coming, by
"Oh, uh, it's down the hallway to the left, if you want to see it. It's almost done," Westfield informed him.
"Good," Luthor said, before walking out the door to see the cannon.
Luthor would have just walked out, but even he could appreciate a
weapon such as the sonic cannon. He took a moment to take in the
enormous ferocity of the Sonic Cannon. And to think, in time, it would
actually be done. It was perhaps at this moment that Luthor decided that
he didn't care how long it had taken Slade to complete his job. He'd
probably contact him again. His work was clean, efficient, and most of
all effective. He left no trails that it had been him. And that's what
"Soon, Superman, soon, you'll meet your doom," Luthor said, under his breath.
headed for the exit so that he could go back to LexCorp's headquarters
in downtown Metropolis. Not too far away from LexCorp, inside the Daily
Planet, Clark Kent was falling asleep at his desk while Lois typed like a
mad woman on her keyboard while holding a cell phone up by her
shoulder. Jimmy was down in the lounge, probably getting a Snickers bar.
Clark didn't feel like speculating.
"I see, uh huh, okay, and you can confirm this?" Lois asked, "Yes, yes, thank you."
As Lois dropped the phone, Clark looked over to ask, "So what did you find out this time?"
all I can tell you is that Luthor's been taking out large amounts of
money from his local banks in cash," Lois announced, "The only thing
he's done lately is business with a couple companies."
"Perry's not going to buy it yet, huh?" Clark asked.
"Not yet, but I will find out what he's up to... maybe if I can do research on the selective areas..." Lois trailed off.
Clark offered a sympathetic smile when Jimmy came up to see him, "Well, they were out of Snickers."
"Sorry 'bout that," Clark told him.
"S'all right," Jimmy said, "I got a BabyRuth instead. Hey, so how's your parents doing?"
"Ma and Pa? Oh, they're doing fine," Clark told him.
"Don't you have any other family, Clark?" He asked, "I mean, you don't talk about many other people."
I've got other family members. They're just distant, you know?" Clark
told him, "There actually was a bit of turmoil earlier last month, but
it seems like it's going swell now..."
That's when the phone rang.
"Hello?" He answered.
day to you, too, sir. Now, I'm just doing a background check on Bruce's
files," Alfred said, "It's a little slower since I can't actually
access Bruce's own computer... but, the bottom line is, I'm sure that we
were in that will. Were we not?"
Clark was caught off guard by the question, but answered, "Um, yeah, I think I signed something... But what's this about?"
"Master Dick has been moved again," Alfred informed him.
"What?" Clark nearly yelled, "Who's watching him this time?"
"Some fellow named Grant Wilson," Alfred said, "Apparently we were to follow Ms. Kane's will..."
"Wait, Ms. Kane's dead?" Clark said.
"Not officially, just missing," Alfred informed him.
"Why didn't I..." Clark began when Alfred interrupted him.
"It just happened, Mr. Kent. Besides, I have been pretty busy with all of this," Alfred answered.
I'm sorry, but... Yes, I'm pretty sure I signed something for Bruce
like that," Clark told him, "I'll run some file searches when I get the
chance. But... where is Dick exactly?"
"He's living in Uptown
Gotham, in the neighborhood district. Quiet frankly, I will say that Mr.
Wilson seemed like a fine gentleman, but the fact that we still don't
know him bothers me," Alfred explained.
"I'd like to meet this guy
myself," Clark told him, disgruntled, "Maybe even check some of the
local paper work while I'm at it, too. I'll..."
"Clark, where's that article!" Perry yelled.
bit his lip, "It's coming, Perry! Almost done... Alright, Alfred, I
can't go down right this instant, but as soon as Perry lets me off the
"Very well then, keep me posted," Alfred said, "I will do the same for you."
"Alright. Thanks, Alfred," Clark told him.
"No problem. Good bye," Alfred said.
"'Bye," Clark answered back.
Jimmy took another bite of his BabyRuth, "Family?"
glared at him, but Jimmy had seen that glare too many times for it to
have a real effect on him. Eventually Clark just sighed and stared at
the computer screen.
"Hey, Jimmy, when do you think that Perry would let any of us off work?" He asked.
a couple weeks?" Jimmy answered back, "Holiday's coming up. Christmas,
Hanukkah, you know. He's probably going to want an article or two in
advance, though. I have to send him pictures online while I'm off since
I'm not going out of town - He wants pictures of the town tree getting
"Well, I don't want to go out of town that late," Clark told him.
Jimmy took a final bite and swallowed, "Well, good luck with that."
Jimmy finished, Lois called him over and the kid went running. Clark
took off his glasses for a moment, rubbing them on his shirt needlessly.
He stared at the article on his computer and quickly finished it,
checking it over before printing it. Grabbing the sheet from the
printer, Clark let out a breath of air and got up to head for Perry's
office. Pulling at his collar, Clark resigned himself to his fate as he
went to the door wondering how he was possibly going to get out of work.
"Kent!" Perry yelled.
It was now or never.
Clark almost wished never.
woke to the smell of something cooking. Rubbing an eye, Dick stretched
and opened the door of his room. The small nap had rid him of his
headache, but left him groggy and slightly uncoordinated. Walking
downstairs, Dick turned to the kitchen to find Wilson finishing up with
cooking dinner. For some reason, this was unexpected. What he had
expected consisted of the type of dinner Ms. Kane had often prepared,
the rushed, not thinking about it too much type. But if his nose was
correct, he was smelling meat cooking on what he thought was a grill...
"I was wondering when you'd wake up," Wilson said, "We'll eat in the dining room, to your right."
gestured over to the dining room and Dick looked over. Walking in, it
was apparent that this guy had class. It was painted a brownish orange
and the furniture was all carved wood. Dick looked at it closely. The
wood was smooth, but almost more of a dark red than a brown. He eyed the
carvings on the side. They looked hand carved...
"Hope you're not a vegetarian," Wilson said coming in and placing two plates on the table, jerking Dick from his trance.
"I, um, no, I'm not," Dick said, but he had found a new thing to look at.
How much food was on his plate.
"Uh..." He began.
"Something wrong, Dick?" Wilson asked.
Dick moved to sit down as Wilson did too, "I just... um, do you normally cook this much or is this just for tonight...?"
Wilson chuckled, "Don't tell me you have a small appetite, Dick."
"I, well..." Dick said, "I normally just have, um... yeah, not much. I mean, I can eat this, I just..."
Wilson eyed him and Dick gulped, without knowing why, "I... I just was hoping that you weren't just doing this for my sake."
picked up his fork and knife and began to cut the steak, "Well, you
haven't had much to eat today, if I'm not mistaken. But really, I just
believe in hearty meals. Gives you energy and muscle when you use it to
"Uh, huh," Dick said, starting to work at his own dish.
There was a bit of silence. Dick was starting to feel awkward. The quite was unnerving.
"Um, I, uh, do have a friend that's a vegetarian," Dick said, thinking back to earlier.
"Oh?" Wilson asked.
'Probably Beast Boy,' He thought resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
"Yeah, it's sort of ridiculous sometimes," Dick said, "Especially on pizza night..."
"Pizza night?" Wilson asked, not really interested in reality.
"Yeah, I, uh, at school, and, yeah," Dick mumbled, realizing he was getting nowhere with this.
hunched his shoulders. He ate what he could but by the time he got half
way through, he realized that his stomach was beginning to hurt from
the amount of food. He winced as he forced himself to eat more. He
didn't want to be rude, but he sort of wished that Wilson would say
something, anything. But he didn't, the man continued to eat on his own,
not minding the silence. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.
So he did what he could to start a conversation again, "The table, it's um, really unique."
Wilson chuckled, "I suppose. I ordered it off the Internet, thought it would work in this room."
Dick nodded, "How did you come to live here?"
"My job moves all over the place, that's all," Wilson said.
"What do you do?" Dick asked.
Slade swallowed his food and answered, "Travel agencies."
"Oh," Dick said.
"You're not full are you?" Slade asked him, watching how Dick was sort of just pushing his food across the plate.
"Oh, never mind that. I haven't shown you the whole house, have I?" Wilson asked.
"Uh, no," Dick answered.
got up from his seat, wondering how it was possible that the kid could
only eat that much. Getting up, Dick followed Wilson into the room
behind the dining room. It was filled, wall-to-wall with books and
shelves of other items. Dick's eyes widened. It looked like a
multi-cultural mural. Mostly from Africa probably, but he could see
Asian influences, European influences, even Southern American influences
in there too.
"Wow..." He said.
"This is the library,"
Wilson explained, "When you work with travel, you get a lot of... well,
rewards, to put it lightly, but on to the next room…"
followed Wilson into the room in the back behind the kitchen, "This is
the lounge. Up front is a welcoming room. I'm not sure exactly what to
Dick resisted the urge to laugh at that as Wilson led
him back upstairs, "Downstairs is just storage. Up here, you already saw
half of it. The two guest rooms, now one is yours. There's a bathroom
on the left. My room's at the end of the hallway. Laundry room's to the
right. Then up ahead to the right is the staircase to the third floor,
which just has my office."
Dick nodded as Wilson added, "I have to
keep it locked because of the files I take care of, so I hope you don't
hold a grudge against me if you can't get in there."
"Oh, no," Dick said, "What do you have, passports, or something?"
birth certificates, death certificates, and other proprietary
information," Wilson said plainly, but a small smile crept onto his
Dick raised a brow. Death certificates? What about that was
funny? Dick followed Wilson down the hallway when Wilson turned around
and Dick had to stop point blank in his tracks to make sure he didn't
end up bumping into him.
"Listen, Dick, I know there's not much to
entertain you with, so I hope you'll forgive me," Wilson said, "I'm
stuck working most of the day, but they have things around the
neighborhood that you might find fun."
Dick replied, faking miserably, "It's fine, I mean, yeah, who says I'm bored?"
Wilson smiled, "I'm sure you're not, Dick."
that Wilson walked down the hall to his own room, leaving a thoroughly
confused Dick Grayson alone. Well, that was weird. He wasn't quite sure
what had just really occurred right there or what to make of Wilson.
Maybe it was just odd because he still knew nearly nothing about the
guy. Yeah, that was it. Wasn't it that way with Bruce? Actually…. It
wasn't, Bruce just wasn't around enough for him to even get to know him.
But that's not the point. The point was that he still knew nothing.
Then again, it was just day one. Dick groaned and went into his room
Collapsing on his bed, Dick instantly felt sick. How much
had he eaten? Turning onto his back, Dick nearly fell off his bed again
when he heard his T-Communicator ring out. Kicking the door closed, Dick
rummaged through his bag and quickly grabbed the communicator and
"What?" He asked in a whisper.
"What's up with you?" Raven asked, noting his tone.
"I, got-," Dick started, "What are you trying to do, it's still early."
"Where are you?" Raven asked, looking around him.
"Dick?" Dick turned to hear the door outside.
um, be right there!" He called, closing the communicator and shoving
half of his stuff under the bed and out of sight, leaving Raven on the
other side of the continent thoroughly confused.
Dick ran to the
door and opened it to see Wilson in front of him with a very confused
expression, "What was that phone call all about?"
"The… the phone call?" Dick asked, trying to be oblivious (after all, being innocent worked out pretty well most of the time).
"You weren't talking to yourself then, were you?" Slade asked, not about to let the subject go.
I um," Dick began, but slowly the question wedged it's way into his
thought process about why he even needed to hide a phone call or even
why this guy should care, "I… was talking to some friends."
"How?" Wilson asked, it was hard not to smirk, "I don't have a phone line in there."
"I… I have a cell phone…" Dick replied, stiffly, hoping that they could somehow get off topic.
"Who provides for it?" Wilson asked this time.
was starting to get annoying. He didn't know why, but it was. Probably
because Wilson could legitimately have reasons to ask these questions
and because Dick should be able to honestly answer them. Either way,
Dick felt an overpowering sheer annoyance. Most people would be
satisfied with 'what phone call?'. Not Wilson apparently. Then again, he
had been in the army, right? That's what the will had said and that
meant the guy was smarter than your average kid. Dick almost felt like
"Wayne Enterprises does," Dick said, indignantly.
this tone, Wilson went on as though he hadn't caught it, "I see. That's
good to know. Well, I'll be downstairs in the front room."
"Okay," Dick said, before shutting the door and separating himself from Wilson.
heard Dick shut the door and had to suppress the urge to march down the
steps loudly. Insolent, disrespectful, little... Slade stopped at the
bottom and took the moment to breath out a hint of anger. Dick hadn't
acted this way when Adeline had taken him in. Then again, the kid was
probably still in shock at that point. Walking into the front room,
Slade sat down and picked up a package, unwrapping it to reveal a copy
of The Art Of War by Sun Tzu. He smirked. He'd read it a dozen times,
but with every new analysis of it, he'd buy a copy to see what else he
could learn from it. Often nothing, but every now and then...
he didn't think any of them would help him with changing a teenager's
disposition towards him. Slade stared at a page in the book without
reading it. He had had a feeling that there would be... consequences and
trade offs to this prolonged plan. After all, this time, Dick had been
able to recover from the shock and had very quickly slipped back into
his attitude. Slade studied it out in his mind. The goal now was to get
Dick to end up liking it here. And that meant having Dick shut himself
up was the last thing that he wanted to do.
Not to mention that it
reminded him too much of how Dick's late mentor had worked. He would
have chuckled at the thought, if it hadn't been for his other worry. In
what he had seen as of lately, Dick's behavior as Robin hadn't been
pleasing, either. He had barked orders at his teammates, kept a distance
from them (that actually had it's good points, but was still...
worrisome), and on his own had become increasingly violent and, to some
He was mixed on the issue. It was... promising,
in some ways, to see that Robin possessed such abilities, as to scare
mere men and fight them with ease, as though the ability ran through his
veins. He was a natural. But this... power... it had to be redirected.
After all, he couldn't train an unruly apprentice and Dick didn't
benefit at all from venting in that manner. If he could do that, temper
that energy for the moment, it would be much easier to train him and get
him to like living there.
Slade put down his book and took out a
pack of cards, setting them up for solitaire, a small smile on his face.
When he thought about his next step, it seemed quite simple, really.
Keep Dick from getting the chance to be Robin for at least the first
week or so. Get him to do something else fun and productive. And lastly,
become a confidant; get Dick to trust him. Easy enough, in fact, he had
a feeling he'd even have a little fun with it.
He drew his first
set of cards. All aces. He took it as reflecting a promising start, for
him. Upstairs, Dick was slowly unpacking his stuff. What bothered him
the most was that there didn't seem to be any place for him to hide his
gear. Eventually, he decided to hide it underneath the mattress. His
belt and communicators remained in the front drawer of the bedside
table. If he couldn't waste time, he wasn't going out without anything
handy. As he was about to close the drawer, he remembered that he should
probably send a message back to the Titans about that... rather rude
Deciding a text was better, Dick told them that he'd call
them as soon as he got out of the house and give them the 411. After
wards, he pulled out his iPod and plugged in, playing songs randomly. At
the moment, he wasn't sure exactly what he was supposed to feel. He
couldn't help but feel angry, to say the least, at Gordon and the rest
of the Police Department. Sure, he was a one man SWAT team, but it
couldn't hurt if they brought in their people once in a while to do
their job... Alright, so it wasn't their fault. He still was pretty
irritated by it all.
And then there was Wilson. Who on earth was
Wilson? Did Ms. Kane ever mention Wilson to him? He didn't think so.
They were in the army together and Ms. Kane hardly ever talked about
that. He wasn't bothered by that as much as he was by Wilson himself. He
couldn't explain why, but through out the entire dinner, he had felt
nervous. He thought back to when he first met Bruce. Yeah, he had been
nervous at first and he tended to feel awkward not knowing much about
him. But this was a different sort of nervousness. He saw no reason to
be nervous, but he was tense, tense like he had to be.
over Wilson. He worked with a travel business or something like that. He
seemed to collect unique stuff from different countries, but that
didn't really surprise him. The only thing that surprised him was how
much he could possibly eat. That, and the guy could cook like only
Alfred could. Then again, (even though Wilson had said he hadn't) he
might have just made a big meal considering it was his first night here
and... now that he thought about it, Dick really hadn't eaten much all
day. The guy was right. But then, why on earth was he nervous about
him?! It was infuriating. Maybe it would wear off... Yeah, that would
wear off - he hoped.
He grabbed his laptop and began to work on
what he could, looking through files. He did this for about fifteen
minutes before he began to fidget and grow bored and restless. Pulling
out his headphones, Dick decided to see how safe it was. He didn't hear
anything from the hallway or from downstairs. Wilson must have gone to
bed by now. Dick went over to the window and unlocked it. The problem
was: it wouldn't open. Dick tried again to budge it open, but the wood
frame was sealed shut. Annoyed, Dick pushed his weight against the
window again, heaving as hard as he could to force it open without
breaking it because wouldn't that be a fun thing to explain to Wilson
After about two minutes of this, Dick stepped back and
stared at the window. Alright, well, if the bottom wouldn't open, maybe
the top would. Two minutes later, Dick decided to bet on the fact that
he was going to have to get out some other way. The clock read 9:45.
Opening the door quietly, Dick snuck down the hallway and down the
staircase. It was completely dark. Completely dark, until he reached the
staircase where he saw a faint light coming from downstairs. Not too
worried because many people left a light or two on at night, Dick crept
down the steps, but when he looked to his right at the front room, he
saw Wilson sitting, reading a book with what looked like a pack of cards
out on the table.
Dick's mouth dropped, slightly before Wilson looked over to see him, "Dick, you're still up? You've been pretty quiet up there?"
"Uh... yeah, I..." Dick stuttered, "I was just... getting a glass of water... yeah."
made his way down the rest of the steps and somehow found the cabinet
with the cups in it. He quickly downed a glass of water and turned to
head up the stairs. Wilson hadn't moved. He eyed him for a moment before
Wilson noticed (or rather, as Slade saw it, acknowledged him).
"Get a good night's sleep," Slade told him.
forced a smile before trudging back up the stairs and then turning to
sit on the top step. The guy couldn't stay up that much longer, could
he? He waited about half an hour, picking at the bottoms of his jeans,
when he finally decided to see if Wilson had just fallen asleep in the
front room. Creeping down, he was disappointed to see Wilson was still
awake, a new game of what looked like FreeCell in front of him. He
scowled, at least until Wilson looked over.
"Dick, you're still up?" He asked, feigning surprise, though Dick didn't notice... much.
"I... I tend to stay up late... and I just wanted to get another glass of water," He barely managed to excuse himself.
"By all means," Wilson told him.
Dick drank his second glass, Slade forced himself to keep from smiling
as wide as he wanted to. He hadn't heard the tell tale signs that Dick
had actually gone back to his room and there was no doubt in his mind
that Dick had found the window to his room was sealed shut. It's amazing
what some adhesives can do these days. Dick forced a natural look on
his face as he passed Wilson again.
"Uh, 'night then," Dick said, before storming back upstairs to wait again.
time, he waited maybe ten minutes before realizing that it was almost
eleven. He had to get out, he couldn't wait anymore. Quietly walking to
the other rooms of hallway, he found that two were locked, one was a
closet without windows, and the rest of the rooms (his, the guest
bedroom, and the laundry room) to all had their windows sealed shut. At
this point his was considering breaking down or picking the locks to
other two doors. Or, he could cut through the glass... but that would be
really hard to explain to Wilson. All of these circumstances resulted
in Dick sitting back at the bottom of the steps, another half hour
wasted. He waited maybe twenty minutes before he decided that Wilson
couldn't possibly still be up.
He crept down the stairs for the
third time, careful to keep out of sight from Wilson. He bent his head
down low and as soon as he could see the front room, Dick felt his jaw
drop. There was Wilson, still playing cards and reading. Dick saw
Wilson's head begin to turn and back flipped quietly to retreat. He
would NOT drink another glass of water. No way. Slade let a silent
chuckle escape him while Dick stormed back (as quietly as he could
restrain himself to be) to his room, where he spent began to fume.
was past eleven! Didn't the guy work or something in the morning?
Didn't the guy move? Hadn't he already been sitting there for two hours
or something? And what, was the guy paranoid that someone would break
into his house or was the guy's house so old the wood had started
growing together again? It was at this point, Dick realized that all
nervousness had passed and Wilson had instead become officially annoying
and irritating. Dick growled slightly as he dropped onto his bed. It
wouldn't be like this every night, right? Right? Dick groaned at the
Grabbing his communicator, he sent another text telling
the Titans that he couldn't talk tonight, but would call them in the
morning. Resigned to the fact that he wasn't going out tonight, Dick
laid on his bed trying to think of ways to occupy his time since he was
pretty sure that he wouldn't fall asleep till maybe three or four.
Grabbing his laptop again, Dick started playing games until he began
beating his high scores with every new game. He began to write an email
to Alfred, but he couldn't send it as he wasn't hooked up to the
internet. That's when he actually noticed that he was falling asleep
earlier than normal. Yawning, Dick placed the laptop under his bed and
let himself try to catch up on his sleep.
Around three in the
morning, Slade finally came upstairs, having finished with some designs
to upgrade a few models of his robots back in Jump City. Yes, he had
kept himself busy and hadn't been playing cards all night long. He
brought up the book with the designs inside, but stopped at Dick's room.
Hearing nothing, Slade smiled and walked down the hall, ready to get a
couple hours of sleep himself. Re-locking the door to his own room,
Slade went to his computer and entered on his calendar.
Day one: Success.