Sailing across the pale backdrop of the polluted night sky, he glided completely inconspicious, camouflaging to almost perfect invisibility. Even the best of birds could only feel the wake of the wind as he passed.
Below was the spitting image of Gotham City by night; infested through it every nook with crime and horror. He scanned the metropolitan area diligently; keeping a fast pace and strong will. The city was the petri dish of everything abhorable. There were merciless laughs coming from the most hideous of locations; screams from all directions, confusing him from where they originated, and if from a genuine source. He could feel the most heinous of crimes being plotted against the innocent. His own city was the living no man's land, he told himself.
And it took time and work to realize he was just Terence McGuinness minutes ago, not even a high-school graduate, just bouncing around an aimless world. When he slipped that one-piece suit on, he felt life had a meaning. He had a place in the world.
****
He landed inside the gated residence of the Wayne Manor. The ancient facade of the most amazing gothic structure was crumbling; it was deteriorating like the city was. He ran up the small stairs to the front door, and entered quietly. The whole building, he realized once more, was practically unused for years. Musty air was newly moved from stagnation, as he closed the door. Whole wings of the house were closed, seemingly indefinitely. He dashed passed the open grandfather clock into the hidden corridor, and into the basement.
"Quiet day?" an old man croaked from below, swiveling in his office chair, as old as the mansion. He was pallid, and looked like he was cracked open by age. His expressive, wrinqueled face demanded attention, yet, was capable of humor. Humor. The city hardly needed it, he thought sarcastically.
"Quiet? Never." He answered in a fresh way, teasing the old man. They had a very deep relationship, but it kept it light on the top. They were in awe of each other for same reasons, and each always had something to tell.
"Terry . . . " the septuagenarian called out, as if the arrival was his son.
Terence grumbled as he took off his cloak, and went to Bruce Wayne. He was rapidly typing and finally found what he needed.
"Two-Face." He cried.
"Who's he? An old nemesis?" the boy asked, still in a young voice, unbroken by age.
"Yes. That's right. Died a long time ago," he continued, trailing off.
"So what's so important about him now?" queried Terry in a worried manner.
"There seems to be a small following- people believing he still exists."
"What happened- " but Terry was cut off
"Chemical accident."
"Yeah, just like the rest of them." Terry had read a little of Gotham's history. Crime was the most prominent of elements, of course, but crime, unlike other cities, was worshiped. Cults and gangs ruled like insane, clergy-like mafia. They would abide by samurai rules- death and honor.
"I want you to inspect this." Wayne told the boy, who was lost in his daydreams of meeting Dana.
"Right."
The streets were basically useless- littered in debris, both garbage and villainy. The bat-plane always shocked Terry; who had, last year, just been a normal boy, with the drab of school, homework, and making a little money for the home. Yes, money. It had not occurred to him until recently that Gotham City was driven by that life force. He then thought about his father.
"Yeah, dad . . . " he wished to himself he was here. They were so prosperous in those days. He was the CEO of the most famous industry ever. Bioengineering was his dream; to change and recreate life. He was just killed like that, dreaming. His dream had spawned madness. That was what is wrong with the criminals here, thought Terry. They just did not want money, or they just did not want to control the world. They were insane about it.
The bat-plane revved instantly, and streaked across the sky, toward the top of the famous Wayne-Powers skyscraper, recently erected. He had complete control over the most amazing craft designed. Equipped with homing devices, trip computers, satellite receivers, and missile systems, the bat-plane was top-notch. He could even radio it, so it would arrive on the spot.
****
He heard laughs, then the familiar noises of the motorbikes. They screeched and burned tires. He waited there, and wondered: "Why does all the trouble come to me?" Then he heard Wayne's voice in the little headphone.
"McGuinness!" he always called him by his last name when under stress.
"I'm here. I can handle it." he replied easily, soothingly.
"No you don't. Not if it is Two-Face."
"You said yourself that he was deceased!"
"Remember Joker??" taunted the old man, smiling.
Terry held his ear, the earpiece was plagued with static. "You know best. You've done it for decades."
"Terry. Scores."
By that time the troupe had arrived, trapped in maniacal laughter. It was the usual night's work. A tubby, a weightlifter, couple of agile ones. They were all dressed in two colors, split down the middle. It was quite odd, he thought, while smashing a few to the floor.
Then he was smashed to the floor, paralyzed in a headlock. It was the strong one. He took out a sharp, bat shaped boomerang, a batarang, and stabbed the opponent. Another figure pranced out of the receding dust and smog of the motorbikes. These people were like old friends, but they were just enemies. This one had something unexpected; a electric-force field rifle.
He was stabbed by the electrocution. Luckily the suit boosted overall strength by over ten times; he was able to withstand it, frozen in position. He was able to see something new about the older part of downtown while he was held over the edge of the Wayne-Powers building, a perilous moment to be in. There were lights, and the old Gotham was alive.
"Touch the metal pole!, McGuinness" Bruce Wayne was yelling into the intercom.
He did. It grounded the electricity, and with a few blows, the perpetrator was out cold.
Just when Terry was picking himself up, dusting off his outfit, he saw another dust cloud and wild screaming.
"Very good, Batman." the unknown figure shouted, shamelessly.
Then he appeared. Half of his face was mottled, archaic, yet unbelievable. The other was handsome, to say the least. He bellowed a few vulgar remarks, and declared:
"So, putz. You hardly look like the man I battled years ago."
"Terr..get out of there, NOW!" told Wayne. The microphone in Terry's years was squeaking, hurting. How was he supposed to leave the head honcho of a crime ring, and return to comfort?
"I can't." he told Wayne, aloud.
"You're right." replied Two-Face, "You can't be the man of yonder years"
"I wasn't-" Batman did not mean to talk aloud.
"Terence McGuinness, you're mine!" he revved and lifted the bike from the ground, and drive toward Batman.
Batman flew up quickly, without haste, and landed where Two-Face stood seconds ago.
"Ooh, jet-packs. I did not think bats had built in propulsion systems?" he teased scientifically.
"This is going to be a long one." Terence told Wayne.
"Yes, a long drawl." finished Two-Face, seeming to contort all his conversations with Bruce; like his own face.
We coulda fought 'em together, Dad and me. No you couldn't have, honey. I would have just lost both of you.
The flashbacks were riling Batman, who was ready for the fight, so he thought. He kept looking at his enemy's face- or both of them. They were mesmerizing. He threw a batarang, as fast as possible. Two-Face shattered it with his arm.
"Boy, you'll have to do better..."he told truthfully, "Those old tricks are useless now."
There was severe action in the next few moments. Batman was being thrashed by an old man with multiple personalities. Batman was an excellent fighter; but Two-Face outdid him everywhere.
"Ever learn a little Jeu-Jitsu?" asked Two-Face, lifting Batman from the ground, who was groveling there. Batman threw an juvenile punch.
"Boy, you're going to have to be a little more mature now...did Wayne send you out?"
"Let's just say Bruce is dead." eagerly replied Batman.
"Oh...er..sorry..." it seemed to be a reply from the handsome side, but there was no difference, especially in an enemy. He seemed to have some respect for Bruce Wayne.
"We were...good friends in school...." Two-Face told. Batman secretly pressed the autopilot button on the bat-suit. His bat-plane would arrive momentarily, after the touching tale.
"Friends, huh?," remarked Batman spastically, "I never was your friend."
"What? You scoundrel!" but it was too late for Two-Face, Batman had hopped in his vehicle and was zooming toward the bat-cave.
****
"That was a close call, Terry." intoned the seemingly frail figure of the old Batman, Bruce Wayne. He turned from his supercomputer before him.
The Wayne Manor, or Residence, as the people called it, existed for over a hundred years. When Bruce's parent's were killed in a robbery, little Bruce inherited all the land and wealth. He, in all his glory, vowed to take revenge on all criminals, thus, working toward his goal of Batman. He was able to prevent crime; never ending it, as he would never intentionally kill.
"Sorry." whined the young Batman.
"No sorries are needed. I juts want to see you come home every day in a few pieces; you know."
They laughed, but it was soon stifled. The monitor showed an intruder alert.
"McGuinness, go!," then they heard the barking of Ace.
By the time Terry had arrived on the scene, Two-Face and the psychotic gang had left, leaving behind Ace, parts on his body was covered in some grimy liquid.
"Ace! Ace!" screamed Terry. He rushed toward the limp dog, who seemed oddly burdened by the liquid. Terry took up the dog and rushed to the bat-cave.
****
"Will he survive?" genuinely asked Terry, who loved the dog.
"He will, but he will be forever have these marks." huffed Wayne. He was beginning to fall apart, unravel. Terry had been seeing this for a long time. Wayne had lost energy. He slept so often, a deeply.
"Go home McGuinness. Get some sleep. The morrow brings nothing better." and with that, Terry left the bat-cave with only his empty knapsack. He hopped on his heavy-duty speedbike, and shoved off toward home.
2:34am. Terence groaned as he arrived home. The city provided no comfort, as long as he was here. The whole town was not conducive to sleep nor wake. He felt cut and bruised all over; Two-Face had battered him thoroughly.
His mother awoke and rushed to his side.
"It's 2:30 in the night! Why does Wayne do this to you?"
"Sorry mom. We were attending to his sick dog, Ace."
"That's sweet of you. There's some milk and other things in the fridge. We don't have much, Terry. I'm so sorry. Being a doctor these days does not pay a dime worth of the effort I put in."
"I know, mom." he hugged her before she went to back to bed.
Terry pulled out the bottle of milk, thinking about how he could earn some more money. They were really poor now. The Twip would soon start to go to high school, and more money was needed to pay that. Without placing his mouth to the bottle, he took a large swig, three or four times.
He awoke right where he was then, six hours later. The fridge, luckily had closed. The bottle of milk was gone. He spied his little brother scrambling around the kitchen.
"What are you doing, Twip?" he teased in a kind way.
"Maybe if you were the Batman or something, you could make us some money. I heard people donate a lot to him. Unlike you, Twip." he beleaguered.
"Oh boy, If only the Twip knew," mouthed Batman to Matthew, silently.
****
Once again, the bat was cruising the night sky of Gotham, inhaling the most putrid of fumes from the billowing factories to the east side. That was the filthiest side. The north and south side were notorious for most criminal activity, and the affluence was located in the west. His family was lucky to still have a family there.
"You're late." told the man behind the soiled chair. Bats crossed the room, in unison; it was only natural for the old man to have his friends around; after all, he sleeps upside down.
"Yeah, well that's right. I chose this job, you know, and I can take care of myself now, practically."
"You don't have to take it out on me, McGuinness. I only give guidance. You saw yourself with Two-Face. Come here."
Terry walked over. The quarrel ended sooner than it began. Bruce Wayne was a dejected man; he had not only regrets and mixed memories of failures and fallen loves. He had lost three or four of his best partners. He had no intention on doing it again; but after, all, as Terence told him, it was not his choice.
"Two-Face's return does not seem convincing. His voice is radically different, as seen here." Bruce played some clips of both iterations of Two-Face, eyeing with pent fury, expressed on his sallow, cracked face. He was losing the race to age, or was it evil gaining on him.
"He will return today. Be on the look out. Stay alert and vigilant. He is sharper than you are, McGuinness. He could have beaten me, too."
"Great, that's enthusing." blurted Terry saucily.
"Go. Keep the intercom on at all times. I shall try to give you some information; guidance on the way." he said bossily. Bruce Wayne was like a contorted image of an extra father, but, Terry loved and disliked the man greatly.
The night sky was purple, and clear. The nights of Gotham serene above, and full of calamity a turmoil only feet below. He sniffed the air, gliding down below where he could smell the disrespectful laugh of Two-Face.
****
"Aaahh..." yelped Batman, who was trapped in an energy bind, a common type of standard issue gun of the age. He was thrashed again and again, feeling the old bruises and welts spring up from long forgotten graves; his skin was like an overused kitchen rag, disheveled.
"Very good, my friend. Keep it up." was an enchantingly calming voice, but unmistakable Two-Face. He was battling Inque, of course.
Inque was an old enemy. She encountered with a nuclear waste accident which changed her whole physical structure; she could meld and mutate, like a pool of inque floating by, then suddenly reappear, with nimble limbs of any quantity, size, and strength. Batman had killed he three times now.
"Fool. You never learn." she admonished.
"Is that so," he answered, darting away from being whipped up and smashed against the concrete slab of the building's facade. He released useless batarangs, and rope, unable to conquer the foe in any way. She was so slippery and gooey; so volatile, even Batman was being humbled.
"Terry. You've said to me she's dead.." boomed Bruce Wayne with sudden excitement.
"Only in Gotham city can the dead awake!" he jokes back in return, pacing and scaling the walls round and round. He was persistent. Soon, both realized that they were getting nowhere, just circling the same paths, wearing out, and unnecessarily panting, exasperated.
"Go now, Inque. Leave us." commanded Two-Face to the benevolent slime, who heeded the command before it was administered, slithering and leaving gooey drops behind.
"Get up, boy. I was once like you, too. Disillusioned by life. Never really knowing where you are going; everyone tells you something or another."
"You're not like me, you old fool. Let's get this over with." he slandered. Two-Face lashed out in a blink, Batman did not even see Two-Face, the old buzzard, whip him and crack his right side of his face. He suddenly felt groggy.
"You want to listen, or more, boy. You liar." the foe exclaimed. Batman put his hands to his temples, in agony. The intercom was smashed to bits, squealing with static and disturbance.
"You struggle to much boy." he said, forgetting what he had just done to Batman. One hand grasped his two-faced chin, itching it.
"For a good cause, unlike you." spat Batman quickly.
"The job hardly pays you, son. You've got potential for more, I know."
Wait a minute, thought Terry. The man was right, he had an oddly soothing effect on him, while he continued his discourse.
"Hardly pays...yeah.." Terry told in a drunken manner.
"You can make much more, Terry McGuinness." consoled the enemy.
"Shut up, Two-Face," Terry had snapped out of an odd state, "talk less, do more." he finished, before running toward the man with two batarangs out.
"You have some of the skill. You do not know me, Terry. My name is Doctor Hugo Strange." he said, taking off the Two-Face mask. He laughed incessantly, to Terry's discomfort.
"You're..er..so.." stuttered Batman, getting up from being throw down.
"Yes..old. Tomorrow, I turn 163."
"Why'd you come here, old man?"
" I need a partner. We could share some secrets, I could give you longevity. I could pay you well.."
What Terry could not hear was Bruce Wayne's remark over the destroyed radio link.
"He'll mess with your mind, Terry. He can mutate and change form...he's crazy McGuinness..."
"The old man has stopped your payments." he hit to his punch line.
"Huh?" moaned Terry, pretending not to hear.
"He hates you always being late...you hardly complete the jobs...you fail him, Batman. It's one Batman's word against another. Trust no one!"
"Why then, should I trust you, you crook?"
"Here!" Strange showed him a newly crumpled computer printout of Wayne's bank, where Terry received his paychecks. Wayne had no reason to pay Terry, as he took the job on his own accord. It was just out of kindness...but coy McGuinness was easily forgetting that.
"Terry saw it. There were no withdrawals from the account in months..."
"What had I said?" asked the alleged Strange with conviction.
"Ahh.." Batman's head hurt. Why would old Mr. Wayne do this to him? Maybe this was the way he could get rid of him...it was so confusing. He was being twisted. Terence was beginning to feel his body once more, beaten and worn out. Maybe he should give up and earn some money like the Doctor says. He was artificially being lured into this, his mind was telling him.
"Go back, Terry...go to Mr. Wayne...no...Terry, follow Dr. Strange...he wants to fulfill your dreams..."
****
Intuition told him to get up an move; Batman would be in trouble.
"He can't handle Two-Face." he told Ace despondently. Ace was a German Shepherd-Bloodhound mix, and was rolling around, awaking from slumber by Wayne's side. Bruce snapped up his cane that was by him, and beckoned Ace to tag along.
He wistfully lifted the light switch in the older, dingy part of the bat-cave. There is stood, a thin sheet of dust around it. The bat-mobile. It had been unused for thirty years. He touched the exterior, and the door hissed open, slowly, with a recognizably antique groan.
Ace jumped in before the old man stepped in. He would need no suit for this. His days as Batman were long over, but who said he could not fight. He remembered how skilled he was- how many years of hard training he had completed before he tackled the dreaded, scarred man. Unlike Terry, he worked every day, dedicating his life to the duty. He hoped that Terry would too.
The car sped off with great leaps and bounds. The turbo-charge engine roared like an airplane, and they were blasted off toward Gotham Towers. They passes colossal structures, bowed down with hundreds of years. Each beamed a history to the duo, gliding along the filthy streets and byways. It was the remnants of the old city- Gotham City of the mid 1900'. Wayne smiled as he remembered how hoodlums and mafia ruled, as they still did today. Nothing had changed. Not even the bat-mobile.
Ace growled when Wayne left the car, he could hear Batman and Two-Face, talking.
"I..ah.." whimpered Batman, in the distance.
"Boy, your persistence enchants and disappoints me." he was electrocuting Batman for the last minutes, pummeling great amounts of charge into the young boy.
Suddenly, Two-Face was whacked hard, and toppled down, like a just leveled building. Wayne had arrived just in time. He was beating with a cane! He had no other weapon on him, but the powerful cane. Wayne had not lost any skill; in fact, he was better than the present Batman in suit. It was not so easy, though.
"Wayne.." moaned Two-Face
Bruce Wayne stopped his onslaught to allow the man a few words. He was shocked that he knew names.
"Terry." called Wayne, "you didn't tell me.."
"I was going to." McGuinness retarded. In the meantime, Two-Face regained strength and stood, wincing, bowed over like the ancient side of Gotham.
"I am...if you remember...Doctor Strange.." he forced.
"Hugo." stammered Wayne.
"He's hundred and sixty-" murmured Batman,
"three. Three, boy." finished Strange, now recuperated from the blows.
"Why haven't you died, you freak." hit Bruce Wayne, with all his might. He was not used to slang, or name calling.
"Life, my dear Wayne..Life...you want it too?" he questioned, with a jittering smile starting from the side of his egg-shaped face.
"Enough talk." quoted Batman, and he flew into Strange, or Two-Face, or whatever he was. All he wanted was him out of the way. He was twisting with everyone's minds. He needed to be put away.
****
The job, though, was hardly easy. Strange had attained great agility in those extra years of life. Batman let out a rope, to bind the man , and Ace pounced on him beginning the mauling session. Ace was shot back, wounded detrimentally.
Bruce lashed out in anger and revenge, knocking the gun from the enemy's hand. It was cane to fist combat. Batman revealed a super sharp batarang, and let it fly. It stabbed the foe's forearm, and he fell back, bleeding.
Wayne placed his foot on the felled man's chest, as to attain authority.
"Scum. I wished it killed the mangy dog." he gurgled with great affliction. Then, a certain feeling of the old Batman enveloped Bruce Wayne, who lifted the evil Dr. Strange and hurled him ahead, only too close to Ace grasp. He had no real intention of what then happened.
Strange moaned on the ground, his aged body was creaking inside of him, hollow. Ace beside him growled softly, and turned over to him.
"No, Ace!" Batman shouted from behind, knowing what would come.
Ace crunched right on Two-Face's neck, with great force.
****
The ride back in the bat-mobile was a quiet one. Batman and Ace lay in the back, still, the former in costume. They was severely injured; to Wayne's worry. Wayne stepped on the boost-accelerator, and they were shot into the hidden entrance to the bat-cave.
Terry panted and shouted as Wayne applied gauze and other topical medications.
"He said you didn't want to pay me.." he muttered, in delirium.
"Terence." Bruce grabbed and gripped the boy well, like a father would.
"I would never deprive you of what your family needs. What would I do with all my estate? I am an old man..." he reached over and took up a soft yellow case. He opened it, revealing tens of thousands of credits.
"The bank was under Two-Face's ownership. Within a few days, he would have usurp the total value of the bank- and left."
"Strange.."
"Just a fictive name. He can turn into any shape and form; he's a relative of Inque." Terry McGuinness suddenly realized that he had full trust in his father. Both of them.
"Dad would be proud." he told himself, lulling himself to sleep with peaceful thoughts.