Happy New Years everyone! As promised in my other one-shot posted this morning "Resolutions", here is the first chapter to a new fic idea I came up with. I will try to update The Ditch next. Anyways, I hope you guys have a great new year!
Also, to those who don't know: I'll Be, Bite: Afterlife, and The Enemy's were updated within the past couple weeks. Until next time.
Storm's Sojourn
Chapter One
The alarm clock screeched exactly at 6:00 a.m. and Max groaned uncomfortably before rolling over on the bed, face still buried into the pillow, and extended a hand that slapped the "off" button atop the clock angrily. With the disturbance silenced the brown-skinned beauty gave a pleased hum and drifted back to sleep…that is, until her cell blared its own alarm – much louder than usual. Huh. She didn't remember setting that one to go off. Nevertheless, Gibson ended the cell's noise and rolled onto her side alongside a huff before finally drifting off into the world of slumber-.
"Here we are, don't turn away now. WEEEE ARE THE WARRIORS THAT BUILT. THIS .TOWN-!"
She slammed a fist into the comforter, leapt upon her knees and grabbed the phone – stabbing her finger on the call button and screaming wrathfully, "DAMNIT TERRY!"
What answered was a deepened, teasing chuckle that only made the girl growl with even more irritation and annoyance. "Judging from your attitude I'm guessing you turned off the first two alarms successfully." Of course he would know whether or not she was up – the boy was starting to practically live in her head after all these years. Max grumbled some unintelligible words – which he figured was probably an abundance of curses to his name – and the young man smirked from the comfort of the red lit interior of his "business" vehicle before adding, "Well, I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the third alarm. After all, you're addicted to the sound of my voice."
"I'm going to be addicted to kicking your ass, McGinnis," retorted Gibson as she relaxed on her knees and ran a hand through her disheveled pink hair. Her almond brown eyes read the clock at 6:07 p.m. and swung an exposed leg over the side of the bed before crawling out and padding on bare feet for the kitchen in the girl's extra-large black t-shirt and matching panties. Last night had been a steamer, thank God for cooler temperature today.
"Anyways," continued Terry McGinnis with yawn, "You up? For real, this time?"
Max raised a brow – just noticing that it wasn't Terry's voice that she had been conversing with, but Batman's…which only meant-. "You promised," the girl whined.
Damn it. Batman massaged the spot between his eyes and nose wearily. "I know Max, but the splicers were at it again last night, fucking Mad Stan got lose – AGAIN!" Max cursed once more and this time he couldn't even find the strength to hide his laughter. Honestly, Mad Stan's continuance in escaping from whatever hellhole Gordon put him in was getting exhausting. Ridiculously so. "I had to take off. But I'm still coming, swear."
Max stood in front of the counter pouting even though she knew why doing so was pointless. "Look, maybe you should just stay. Gotham needs you more than we do-."
"Somehow I doubt that," cuts in the Dark Knight. He could practically hear his best friend roll her eyes…and it gave him far more pleasure than he'd openly admit. "Chelsea's gonna pick you up instead. I'm coming Max – that's final. You can't get rid of me that easy." As if she could even dream of doing it anyway, he cockily thought to himself. Gun shots reverberated in the alley to the left and Batman's white eyes narrowed. "Uh-oh…"
Max stiffened. "Ter?" she urged, wincing for a brief moment that she'd actually referred to him by name while on the job. It was against the rules, and she expected him to harshly put her in check about it – but concern for his safety immediately cancelled out the rules. In fact, after all this time working together and having known each other, the rules almost didn't even apply anymore…for either of them.
"Gotta go," Batman cut in before she could get even more pissed off at him. "I'll talk to you soon. Love you, bye!"
Without even waiting for a response, the other line was cut and Max sighed. "'Kay," she whispered to no one on the phone before chucking it over her shoulder onto the couch. Gibson grabbed a bagel off the countertop and heated it up prior to smothering the bread in some cream cheese. Throwing it and some grapes and strawberries on a plate, she nestled on the couch and turned on the morning news, nibbling on her light but satisfactory breakfast. By normal circumstances a younger Maxine Gibson was not fond of watching the manipulated and brainwashing propaganda that was today's media…However, since she'd found out her best friend was the Batman himself, the teen genius had found monitoring certain news outlets to be – she struggled to think of a word – beneficial. The anchor was already talking about how Batman had ended the dastardly antics of the splicers during the earlier hours – and Max openly welcomed the smug grin that washed over those lusciously plump lips. Unfortunately, Mad Stan was still on the loose (why in the hell didn't they have a better way of retaining this psycho?!) and Gotham P.D. was utilizing all their resources to locate the insane domestic terrorist. Though by "resources" the reporter had no clue that Batman fit that bill.
With breakfast finally devoured, Max took a shower and threw on a pair of dark jean shorts, Atlantic blue flare tank top, flip flops, and fastened in a pair of matching feathered earrings accented with red, brown and black – only because she knew Cunningham would have her ass if Max didn't have some form of accessory worn on person. Gibson walked over to the corner in her bedroom and grabbed a black small duffel bag by the handle before dragging it into the living room and dumping it off at the front door begrudgingly and plopping once more on the couch to monitor the tele for any updates on Batman's progress.
Ordinarily Max would have chosen to spend the last Friday and weekend of her summer vacation curled up in bed and watching reruns of Red Band Society, Scream Queens, and Twisted (damn ABCF for denying twisters a second season!) – Not waking up before the break of day. Then again, she supposed it was for a good cause. This weekend not only marked the end of summer vacation, but also the beginning of Max's senior year at Hill High…Any regular kid would be ultra-pepped about that, but the small clique of friends knew what lied "beyond" senior year…the year when everything the teens had ever known would officially come to an end.
Still, good ole Chelsea Cunningham was not going to allow any of them to be depressed about their potentially final year together before life split the group apart. Instead of sulking, Chelsea invited (more like forced) the crew to her family's beach house in northern Gotham for the weekend. It was a private little residential area and with school starting, the summer influx of tourists would be gone. The group would have an entire beach to themselves. Plus, they'd all have a weekend to escape from their crazy personal lives. Who'd even dream about turning that down?
There was a timid yet authoritative knock at the front door as Max glided to answer it. When the door slid open Chelsea Cunningham stood there waiting in all her blonde glory – wearing a pair of darkened sunglasses and extra tight cream colored, strapless beach dress with way too high wedged sandals. As for accessories – Chelsea had so much gold on her wrists, ears, and neck that Max was sure the sun had risen inside of the apartment. Despite the excessive jewelry though, Gibson had to admit that it looked shway on the popular dame. "Max, honey," chimed Cunningham as she stepped across the threshold looking absolutely perfect for seven in the morning, "you ready?"
Max motioned for the small duffel beside Chelsea's foot and stood to give her female bestie a hug and peck on the cheek. "If by ready you mean if I'm perfectly content with getting up at the crack of dawn, then no."
Chelsea pulled off her sunglasses so Max could see the teen roll her eyes in annoyance before retorting, "Well if you'd rather spend an extra hour and a half stuck in morning traffic then by all means, go back to bed! Otherwise, shut your sexy ass and let's get this shit to the car."
Max raised a brow. "You think I'm sexy?" she teased striking a lame and absolutely horrendous attempt at "hot" pose, making Chelsea point a finger towards her throat and gag before playfully kicking at Max's feet as the brown skinned beauty grabbed her bag and ushered the two out of the apartment, locking up. As they walked towards the elevator Chelsea linked arms with Max and began bouncing up and down like a child excitedly.
"This is going to be so much fun, Maxie!" she harped, clasping her palms together like some early century English novel character. "The whole weekend to ourselves on the beach?"
Max chuckled as the stepped on the elevator and descended, "I still think inviting the boys to stay was a slagged idea."
Cunningham raised a brow. "What?" she questioned. "Nelson isn't going to pop up in your room in the middle of night and-."
Max made a disgusted face. "That's not what I'm talking about, Chels!"
The door opened and the two girls exited and headed out the front door, the lighter of the two pausing in thought for a moment. Then, a mischievous glint spread across her face as Chelsea leaned in closer for Max and poked at the female's ribs playfully. "Ooooh. I see. Well, even though you've had him waiting for forever, I'm sure Terry won't steal your cookies in the middle of the night, no matter how much you may secretly want him too-."
"CHELSEA!" screeched Gibson as she pulled her arm out of Cunningham's and enflamed red in anger…or embarrassment. She wasn't exactly sure which was which right now. Meanwhile, Chelsea successfully wore a look of complete innocence. "That's NOT what I'm TALKING ABOUT!" They approached Chelsea's convertible BMW parked at the curb as Chelsea unlocked the vehicle and Max tossed her bag into the back seat via the down roof on top of her friend's. "I'm talking about the fact that Terry and Nash can't stand one another," corrected the pink haired genius as the female's slipped into the ride and Chelsea started it up before pulling off for the highway. "Do you really think having them under the same roof is a smart move?"
"Relax Max," soothed Chelsea with the wind rushing through her hair and a smile on her face. "Between my little bikini and your sweet, cuddly disposition, Nash and McGinnis will be too busy cuddling up to us to even think about each other." Chelsea merged onto the almost empty freeway and Max shook her head – still smiling despite herself.
After a few moments of watching the Gotham sky grow decorated with almost supernatural shades of red, yellow, purple, and blue from the ever approaching sunrise and a song from Coldplay flowing through the speakers, Max felt her phone vibrate and smiled at the name on the screen. Touching the answer key, Max turned her head out the side of the car for as much privacy as she'd be allowed with Chelsea, and spoke softly, "Hello?"
"Coldplay huh? I take it you guys are on the road."
"We just left actually," replied the girl, ignoring Chelsea's poking at her thigh demanding to know who she was talking to. "How's the madness?"
"Just finished up," answered Batman from inside the Batmobile as he drove through that all too familiar and almost homey tunnel running through the underground of Wayne Manor. "Gordon promised Mad Stan would get placed somewhere he couldn't get out of."
Max chuckled, "In other words: you'll be back in Gotham by the time he escapes again." Batman groaned all knowingly and her laughter got louder, making Chelsea all the more insistent and nosy.
"Is that Terry?" the blonde hollered loud enough for him to hear. "He'd better not be late!"
"Or not show," added Max with a scoff.
Terry put the car in park and climbed out and over the vehicle, dropping stealthily onto the launch pad with ease. "Hey, I said I was coming, didn't I?" He ignored the unsure silence on the other end; knowing all too well that these days his word wasn't always the best thing to run by. "I'll be there, promise. I wouldn't miss this vacation for a hundred Mad Stans. Hold on."
While McGinnis and Wayne conversed silently in the background, Max turned her attention once more for the sunrise and stared at the brilliance of nature in humbled awe. It wouldn't be long before canvas painting of the waking sun vanished for the full force of day's light, so this fleeting moment was the best. What she wanted the most before this weekend was over, was for the gang to spend their final moment of freedom together – watching the brief beauty of the sunrise come and go before life carried on. "It's beautiful," she whispered to no one in particular.
Terry McGinnis turned from Bruce and paused, holding the phone close to his ear as if he were staring into the very eyes of Max herself. "You okay?" the vigilante asked his best friend in a tone full of absolute care, concern, and dedication to her. The boy could not lie: without Max, he wouldn't have made it as far as he had. He relied on her so much, and the guilt in not being able to reciprocate the favor as a true best friend should stung. It sucked even more because he was pretty sure that he would never be able to be what she needed no matter how much he wanted to. Deep down, Terrence waited for the day when it would eventually become too much for Max to take; when she wouldn't be able to take it anymore…just like Dana had. Until then, however, the futuristic hero of legend would do what he could (whenever he was still long enough to notice it) for her.
Max smiled softly as his concern and care was easily interpreted and came through the phone in a manner that almost felt like he was giving the girl a comforting hug. Max snuggled deeper into the convertible seat as if it was his arms and sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just hurry up, okay?"
Momentarily relieved, Terry shook his head whimsically. "Got it. I'll see you in a couple hours."
"Looking forward to it." The line disconnected and Max gave Chelsea a big grin as the to-do daughter of money stretched out a hand and placed it on top of Max's for comfort. She could sense it – but still wanted this weekend to be a fun one for all of them. That's right, they would have a great time, all of them.
Chelsea applied more pressure to the gas and the car picked up speed as they zoomed down the freeway, only a couple hours away from what she hoped would be a temporary paradise. A couple hours away from eradicating the fact that Max wasn't fine…that she'd lied. This weekend was going to be perfect.
So Chelsea hoped…
To be continued...