He knew that the consequences if he ever retorted would be brutal, but, despite that, he couldn't keep himself from opening up his lips and saying one of his zingers. Nothing too bad, after all, though he didn't want to admit it to himself, he was a tad scared. Though he was a more than decent fighter, even without his suit, his head hurt from having been caught from behind and he was in no more than a t-shirt, and his trademark jacket and pants, that didn't shield him from the cold Gotham (at least he hoped it was Gotham still) air. But it was a way for him to deal with his stress. As expected the pain came, hard, harder that he was expecting, really, and he almost fainted, or fell down into the ground, something which would have earned his captors another reason to punish him.

Instead he lead the bear on his shoulders, the gash where the blood had started to spring forth, Terry McGinnis, superhero, bit his lip, trying not scream, for he knew that his captors would enjoy that a lot. And he didn't want to give them the satisfaction. He had been involved in rows before, and had even gotten shards of broken glass gotten inside of his back, when a break in and robbery, in his delinquent days, had gone wrong.

He smiled briefly...that one had been hard to explain to his mother, and he had eventually gone to the hospital. The dots hadn't been too hard to connect by the one who was previous to commissioner Barbara Gordon, and he had spent a few days in juvie, before the case being dropped.

"Why are you smiling at for?" - the voice of a man, one of his captors told him. That made things harder. If it were only one, he could try and overpower the man. Play the "I don't look all that strong and muscled card", but when there were two? As soon as he acted, the other one would react. He was fast, but he was no Flash.

And who knew if they had weapons or anything? For now it was better not to do anything overly risky or stupid, Bruce was bound to be on Barbara's ass. - Terry concealed a look of terror at the mental image that conjured. - which actually worked to his advantage as the the two men thought he was scared of him and dropped their guard slightly. But Bruce was bound to be applying pressure so that the Gotham P.D would be looking for him. And then of course...if she wasn't with Dana consoling her because of some lost date...over the pain in her head, he found it a tad hard to remember the finer details like if he had any with her, or not. Then she was searching as well. And she was like a hound, Bruce might not want her help, but she wouldn't take no for an answer.

The fact he didn't have his suit on at the time he had been attacked at been both a blessing and a curse...a blessing because it meant this guy's probably didn't know who he was, his secret identity, and had no idea of what kind of hell they had just unleashed upon themselves….a curse because clearly someone had him as a target. And whether it was some big super villain, or a lonely jokerz member, one of the gangs that roamed the city of Gotham, his family might be in danger.

"Nothing." - He made sure to look down so as to not appear defiant. He could feel the blood running down his t-shirt and he hated it, it had been the first thing he had found over the top of this dresser, after a particularly rough night, when he needed to go out, and he had barely put out a jacket, when he had been hit in the back of the head. But he sure as heck didn't hate it as much as the fact his family might be in danger. And from where he stood, unarmed, he could do nothing to help.

"Be careful with that one…" - Terry, the hurt, bleeding boy tried to pick up the accent between his aching head and the agony of his shoulders. The jacket had done nothing much to shield him from the harsh blow and trying to pick the accent well… It wasn't easy, but his night job had turned worse once in awhile. He'd live if he didn't reply with much lip. It sounded vaguely eastern european, like russian or slightly South of that?

He couldn't focus very well...Bruce had made him memorise some dozen or so common crook's accents and had him try and distinguish between them, but they all tended to sound alike when you're tired. And he had had a rough night, and though he had rested when he had faded to black...well more or less rested, he had been dragged around, that hadn't been satisfying at all, that hadn't been nearly enough, in his opinion.

"How come?" - The other man, slightly shorter, but still built like a brick wall started poking at Terry's arms. "- He doesn't seem too tough"

He sighed, he could very well open his mouth to say another complaint, maybe sarcastically say "where's the breakfast" or "room service is awful" or even "guess this isn't the Ritz", but he knew more blows would come, and he didn't feel up to it. The man was so close he could probably knee his balls and make a run for it, but jailers don't keep the doors to the exit open.

Terry sighed again in annoyance, the fingers of the shorter man, though they were only touching his arms, were really annoying, not to mention they hurt. It was like he was expecting Terry to react. But Terry wouldn't and couldn't.

If this had been some years back, he would, no doubt, already have said "Whatever, if I get beaten, I get beaten" and jumped at the neck of the two guys, but that kind of attitude had died down with the training Bruce Wayne, the original Batman, had given him. Sometimes, just sometimes, it was better to get bothered or wait, not to get into worse situations. He just hoped Commissioner Gordon had remembered to protect his family.

:::::

Max had known that something was wrong as soon as the night had come and gone and the bats, or rather, Terry, or Terr, as he called him, in public, hadn't called her. Because that young man might know how to handle his hands, and he might know how to handle his cellphone. He might even be in the same robotics and tech classes as her, but there was no doubt, she was the egghead of the group.

As she was, and he called her by that particular nickname "Egghead", often. In fact he called her every night, or every morning, even if just to thank her for the help. If someone were to track his cell phone usage, she'd probably come number two in cellphone messages, besides the old man himself. Of course the cell phone messages were re routed and impossible to trace but still…

So when it was morning and there were still no signs of a message, voicemail, or text, she started to worry. The afro american beauty sat at her bed, rubbing the grogginess of her eyes, as surprised as she had ever been.

But it was when she came to school, and Dana came in rushing in her direction, her breasts swaying, her tiny frame nearly tripping over itself, just to ask her if she had seen Terry, that her throat tightened. She tried to act relaxed, and tell her that he was probably running late, because Mr Wayne had worked him too hard again, and she gave out a laugh, one that was fake, but Dana seemed satisfied.

But as the day got longer and longer for her, and it went on and on, she couldn't help but keep getting more and more distracted. She even got two question wrongs on her questionnaire, even if she knew them by heart, a first for her. She couldn't help it, not really. She had to admit that every time that Terry went out, she worried about him, but this was only the second time that anything happened to him. She surreptitiously looked at the signal of his suit, that she too was tracking, but that indicated Wayne Manor as the localization. And she knew Terry couldn't be there, Brice would sooner send him dying to school than left him slack off.

As soon as the school bell rang Max rushed outside, half expecting to see him hunched over a sweet ride, that belonged to his employer, that troublemaker smile, like nothing had happened. She knew the hope to be vain, but hope is the last thing to go away, and she had plenty. She'd share Terry's time with Dana, they'd go out for a drink or some shiz like that, have fun...she knew that it was probably not going to happen...but…

And, in fact, when she got there, he wasn't there. Nope just Nelson, Nelson Nash, local bully and freaking annoyance number one. And, heart at her throat like she was, she did NOT want to deal with him. She was serious, if he came close to her, she'd punch his jaw out.

Probably because he saw her glancing around, and the scowl she was giving him , probably due to the way her fists were already clenching up to hit that jaw if he came near, he didn't approach, which suited her just fine.

Dana too, looked around. But Max didn't have time for that, Dana might be her girlfriend, heck, she might be closest girl around Terry, but she was the only one who knew that something seriously off and wrong was going on. It had been more than 15 hours since they had last spoken, and he had sounded fine then, so what could be going on?

To his mother he might just look like he was skipping school, to Dana, he might just avoiding her, but to her...to Commissioner Gordon, to Bruce...they knew.

She bit her lip...and started walking, pressing a button on her cellphone, redirecting the call to Bruce Wayne himself. The number had never been on any list, and Terry had refused to hand it over to her, but she had her methods of obtaining those kinds of stuff. It turns out the government keeps lists of everyone in handy, and Max was hacking enough shit to go to fed, even if she was technically a minor.

The phone rang for nearly 2 minutes, but she didn't give up. She knew that the old man wasn't as fast as he used to be, and would take a while to pick up. But he would...eventually, and if he didn't? She'd walk to the manor itself, and climb inside. Ace, the attack dog he had wouldn't attack her, he quite liked her actually. And she'd knock until he would be forced to come in and…

After what seemed like 200 rings, but was likely a lot less, the phone was picked up. Max held her breath, but only briefly, now that he had picked up she didn't really know what to say. The words didn't come so to speak. So Bruce opened up the conversation.

"What? How did you get this number?" - He wasn't out of breath, but he seemed tired, he had likely still not stopped since helping Terry at night. Max suddenly felt very stupid, very fast. But she had to do to this. Bruce might not even know Terry was missing! She held the phone on her grip.

"It's Max. Maxine Gibson! We met before, remember? And…" - She stopped... this was hard to say. - "Terry's missing, nobody's seen him today…"

Max heard a curse being uttered into the phone, though Bruce quickly regained his composure, it was the first time she saw the old man break composure, she guessed he did care for Terry. He paused for a few seconds, probably, Max figured, to regain his composure again.

"I know who you are, I have automatic caller Id...I guess I'm still on some lists...huh? - Max weakly nodded, then realised Bruce probably couldn't see her and murmured a yes, softly. -I'll call Barbara and I'll scan for him, the suit's still here, I think so he can't have gone far...thanks for telling me, go home, maybe he's just sick…"

It was a vain hope and they both knew it, Terry was many things, but he wasn't lazy, if he felt sick he'd still push to go to school, unless he was dying or something, no, if he hadn't gone, he was either being held hostage or deadly sick and contagious.

Max wasn't having it though

"There's no way in hell! I am NOT going home like a good girl, I want to help."

Bruce Wayne had dealt with his fair share of stubborn people over the years, he had dealt with teenagers, and children (though he wasn't so good with them, if he were being honest with himself), and he had dealt with adults who just never learned their lesson! But Max! Max never listened to him!

"Listen to me!" - And his voice came harsh, grated. His assistant, and someone who he had grown to care quite a lot for, though he wouldn't admit it in front of him, had just just gone missing. - "We don't know what's wrong, or where's he is. I don't know if he's in a dangerous spot, I'm not putting you in a dangerous spot!"

Max had no doubts about it, she simply shook her head.

"You let Barbara go with you, and she was younger!"

Bruce shook the phone.

"Barbara had training! You don't!"

"Don't care, I'm going, if you don't take me I'll bust in every damn Jokerz hole until I find him"

Bruce sighed. So stubborn, reminded him of some girl he had met 30 years ago…

"Stay right where you are, I'll pick you up."

:::::

"Sweet ride, Mr Wayne" - Max was trying to keep jovial, her humor light, but the truth was dark cloudy thought came in and went through her mind. This was her attempt at lighting the mood. But Bruce didn't even see fit to reply at her attempt.

The car she had seen approach and stop was, indeed, very nice, it had this style that reminded her of the 60's. The 1960's, only it had been remodeled so it was legal and safe to drive at this era. And, from the noise the motor made, it was a powerful little beast. Max didn't pretend to know much about cars, she was more about the electronics than the engineering, and this car didn't have much in the way of electronics, but it was still a nice sight to behold.

Bruce just stared right ahead, at the road. And Max reminded herself that one of the certifications that Terry had for Bruce was that of driver...sure it was mostly a ploy, but Mr Wayne didn't like driving all that much, that, or he couldn't do it very well, as he had his eyes pratically glued to the the windshield. It was kind of a funny sight, but she dared not snicker, as Bruce was making her a favor in letting her come. He was clearly not pleased by it or so it seemed.

"This city…" - He murmured. - "I called up Barbara and she says she can't really afford to send everyone for one person, but she'll help us out and look with us. She knows the job...and this happened once before…" - His eyes were cast downwards, and we were silent as the streets rolled away, dangerous as that was, thankfully we didn't crash or anything. - "We need to find Terry and fast, be thankful there isn't a Joker on the loose right now. She also sent someone to protect his family"

Max hadn't even thought of his family, but he was glad that Bruce had, she felt kind of awful about it, she was so worried about Terry, he had forgotten he also had a family. She glanced at the streets. They were getting into seedier areas, their car would stand out, definitively.

"Generally, when people do human trafficking or kidnappings or...things like that…" - Bruce spat the words like they sickened him, which, truthfully they did. - "They rent a cheap warehouse, or take them to a boat."

"Right…" - Max reminded herself of Terry confiding with him about a girl with psychic powers and a boat, but she thought it better not to mention to Bruce, who probably wanted such things secret. - "I remember reading such things in newspapers and such."

"So I installed a scanner under the seat of this car… " - Max looked at him with doubt in her eyes, and he gave her an exasperated look as he pulled up. - "It's this big black box under the seat, the one you've been tapping with your boots all the time?"

"Oh"

"Yes, try not to do that"

She gave out a guilty smile.

"So we're going to drive around, with the windows closed and try to find signs of terry, he should be easily identifiable, he's unique."

Max couldn't help but smile at that, that he was, Terry was certainly unique. Very, very unique.

"Schway, thanks"

::::

The blood in his back had started to scab over and he knew that it was going to get ripped as soon as got the drenched t-shirt and jacket out, because it had glued itself to the back of his t-shirt. He stood, still, and the cramps of the position, without being able to move his feet much, or do much else, made it so that he was really starting to hate his confinement.

Well he hated his confinement anyway, but this was even worse, what could he say? He was thirsty, he hadn't had any water in hours, and his tongue felt like sandpaper, which wasn't helped, at all, by the fact that his head still ached. At least the pain in his shoulder had stopped, somewhat. But he didn't dare make another joke, clearly the men, whatever they were, had no sense of humor, almost as if they were germans.

"C'mon now it's an easy job! Just hold the assistant hostage and demand millions from the old fart " . So that was it, and Terry couldn't have let out a sigh of relief when he realised that. Nobody knew his secret identity. That was until he realised Bruce didn't have a phone number in any list, and it was him, Terry that went through his mail. Bruce would never get the ransom demand. And even if he got it, he would never pay.

He'd dealt with kidnappings befores and he had always saved the victims but still...Terry had seen the amount of missing people on the computer in the BatCave. Would he just be one more in that number? Missed by Dana, Max, Bruce and his family? Who knew?

All he could do was hope...But he had something that those other people, unfortunately, didn't have, he had access to the best resources money and smartness could buy. He could be saved, maybe, he was just preparing himself to get his back against the brick wall again and try not to think of water when he heard a commotion.

Max and Bruce had been driving for hours, when the scanner beeped to indicate they had found something that matched the settings they were looking for. It could be a false finding sure, But Bruce had guaranteed her that, even with her bopping it with the ankle of her boot, this was still top of the line, and it would likely be it. And she was super excited. They didn't even call for backup, as every second could be fatal. They dropped the disgusting drinks Bruce had brought from home, but which were important to keep them hydrated, and Max had barely touched, and entered the building.

They found surprisingly little resistance, and the ones they did find, were swifly dealt by Bruce, quickly and quietly, with chops to the neck. That quieted them down, as Max tied them up. Despite that they still made some noise, and when they got to the room where Terry was in, a small room in the back, made of brick, that looked like it hadn't seen a washing in 50 years, they had to fight.

The first man took a swing at Bruce as the second man put himself facing away from terry, so as he couldn't escape, But Bruce was no slouch, even at his older age, and he dodged and put all his strength in a jaw punch, that was a one hit knockout.

Almost as if they couldn't believe the man, Bruce Wayne, who must have been like 70 years old at that point, had punched him in the jaw and knocked his mate out. He glanced repeatedly between the floor, where his companion stood and Bruce's fist, and he prepared to do a fighting stance, but before he could, Terry did something he had been waiting to do all night and day.

He did a series of one two punches, from behind, not too honorable, but that didn't matter too much, after all, he too had been hit from behind, it felt satisfying seeing the taller man's knees crumple. But the finishing blow went to Max, she used her knee to hit the fiend in the jaw.

It was a pretty dangerous move, and one that Bruce would lecture her about in the car on the way back, it could have easily have caused severe and permanent damage, but Max hadn't been abele to control herself, she had been just so filled with rage that she had thrown caution to the wind. The two burly men stood, knocked out on the floor.

"We'd better call Barbara, and explain the situation"

"They didn't know who I am, they were just after your money, Bru...herm, I mean Mr Wayne."

Bruce glanced at Terry and at Max, at the moment, after the after effects of such a battle, he couldn't help but feel the adrenaline rush in. He said something he would never say normally.

"Call me Bruce, McGinnis. There will always be crooks trying to get their hands on the Wayne fortune but with you and me, and even this girl on the case, they'll get what's coming to them. You did good Gibson."

Max Beamed with joy. Terry slumped to the car taking up the entire backseat, and they drove out, after having tied up the goons, and called up Commissioner Gordon.

"Oh Bruce, is this a seaweed drink? Thanks, I'm so thirsty!" - He immediately gulped Max's one, that hadn't been touched besides the first gulp.

"I don't get how you can drink that stuff, it's disgusting!"

Terry waved a hand at the air, making vague shapes in the air.

"You get used to everything."

"Even getting beaten up and kidnapped?"

"Except that."

"Except that?" - She lifted an eyebrow

Max turned towards him and whispered:

"Good night Terry"

Terry let out a dopey smile and said

"Night Egghead."

And then he fell asleep.

Just another night at Gotham.