Chapter 7
With the exosuit loaded in its compact form on his back and Ace sitting on the seat next to him, Bruce made his way through the cold, dark streets of Gotham. He supposed he could have used the hover car and gotten there faster, but the old four wheeled vehicle was much less likely to attract notice. Ace whimpered.
"Don't worry, boy. Dinner won't be much longer." Bruce assured him, coming upon the alley. He slowed to a gentle stop, looking carefully in the alley for any signs of trouble. Seeing none, he got out of the car and tried calling Terry's cell phone again. A muffled melody played from within the dumpster. Bruce frowned, walked over and peered in. At the top of the pile sat Terry's backpack, a little of Inque's goop still on the strap. Bruce's scowl deepened as he pulled the backpack out of the dumpster and his worst fears were confirmed: the bat suit was still inside, which meant…
"Terry…" The old man closed his eyes for a moment at the implications of the Inque catching her worst nemesis without the protective suit, then sighed as he adjusted the position of the exosuit on his back. If Inque had caught Terry, it meant that most likely Bruce would have to use it. The exosuit gave the best defense for the old man's frail body, but it also put extra strain on his heart. A lot of strain. And this time Terry wouldn't already have the new bat suit on. Which meant Bruce would have to spend even longer trying to fight in the exosuit this time.
But then again Bruce couldn't just abandon the boy, no matter what the risks to his own health were. After all he was…
The thought was interrupted as the alley was suddenly filled with a bright green light.
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Bring. Bring. Terry's hand slammed down on the alarm clock. He cracked open an eye to check the time, deemed it too early, and rolled over to return to his slumber. The smell of eggs and bacon drifted into his room as did his mothers yells for him to wake up…
Terry sat straight up, adrenaline coursing through his body, turning his head frantically as he looked around. The familiar walls, bed, furniture… this was his bedroom alright. But how had he gotten here? And when? The last thing he remembered, Inque had captured him and Blight was about to…
Blight!He was going after Mr. Wayne. And then Terry's family.
Quickly, the teenager stumbled out of bed and rushed out of his room to the kitchen, where his mother was still cooking breakfast and calling for him.
"Mom!"
"Well, you're finally up. It's about time," Mary McGinnis replied, glancing up at her son. "What's the matter with you, Terry? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"What's going on? Is everyone alright?" The frazzled boy spilled the questions frantically.
"Whoa, whoa, Terry. Settle down. What are you talking about?"
"Mom, we've got to go. Blight could come through that door any second. And Mr. Wayne. He must've gotten him by no--"
"Oh, that reminds me," his mother quipped, "Mr. Wayne called this morning. He said to tell you that you wouldn't have to work till later tonight and to enjoy the afternoon off. Maybe you could use that time to catch up on your homework."
"Wait, you said Mr. Wayne called? Did he say anything else?"
"No, nothing else. Terry, are you feeling alright? You seem pale," his mother asked, concern softening her features.
"No, I'm fine, Mom. But Blight, he--"
"That Blight you mentioned again. Wasn't that what the news called Derek Powers after he changed into that green thing?"
"Yes! That's right, Mom. That's why we've got to go right now! We can go to Mr. Wayne's place. He'll know what to do. You grab Matt and…" Terry paused in mid-sentence, realizing that his mother was simply staring at him in disbelief.
"Terry, don't you think you're a little old to be scared of nightmares?" she asked, a slight smirk appearing on her face.
"Mom, I…" It was no use, she wasn't going to believe him. Although, if Bruce had called and told him to take it easy until that night, it was entirely possible the danger had passed. Or at least been averted. Either way, tonight, Terry was going to have his answers. How had Bruce gotten him out of that lab last night? For that matter, where was Blight and Shriek? It was hours ago that they had left to attack Bruce in the alley. Had that possibly been Shriek over the phone, imitating Bruce? No, someone had gotten Terry out of there. He was sure Inque wasn't the type to walk him home. And Blight would have come straight after Terry's family after finishing off Bruce, or at least have killed Terry.
Too many questions, Terry decided, slouching into a chair as he waited for breakfast to finish cooking. That's when a thought hit him.
"Hey, Mom. Where's Matt?"
"Oh, your little brother went to a friend's house to play," she replied, setting a plate down in front of him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Now eat your breakfast and get ready for school."
Terry raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told.
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School went by in a flash. Terry was so focused on what had happened the night before that he barely paid any attention in his morning classes. But as the day wore on, he found himself relaxing and worrying about it less and less, with the occasional distraction by Dana helping. By the time Terry almost had school entirely on his mind, it was over. It had been an usually good day, especially considering Terry's usual track record at school after a night spent patrolling the city. He even managed to spend some time with Dana afterwards and get his homework done.
Yes, it had been a very uneventful day. However, now it was time to find out what the hell had happened the night before. Terry's face darkened as he sat on the subway train, heading to Wayne Manor. Had he dreamt the entire evening? It was a possibility. Bruce had told him of occasions where such had happened, where a villain like the Mad Hatter or Scarecrow was involved. If that was the case, then the question was when had reality ended and the dream begun?
By the time Terry reached Wayne Manor he had thought up half a dozen possible scenarios, all of them with one or two tiny details that made them seem not quite right. His thirst for answers grew as he entered the mansion and headed for the old grandfather clock. Soon, he believed as he walked down the stairs, that thirst would be quenched.
"Wayne?" Terry called when he was almost halfway down. A faint glow illuminated the bottom of the stairs. The old man was definitely down there, probably concentrating hard on something on the computer. As Terry got to the bottom, he saw his guess confirmed: the computer monitor was on, sending a faint glow throughout the cave, shadowed only by the chair before it.
And that was when Terry stopped.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
The monitor was on, but it was completely blank. Just a pale white glow.
"Hey, Bruce?" Terry tried again, a bit of worry in his tone. Again, no answer.
Terry didn't waste another second and raced from the stairs to the chair, his heart beating faster with worry as he spun the chair around to face its occupant.
"Bruce? Hey, what's wro--"
Terry's heart nearly leapt to his throat. Bruce Wayne sat in the chair, his eyes closed, his form still and cold.
He was dead.
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"And that's how I found him, officer. He was just sitting there in his easy chair, not moving." Terry explained to the Gotham City police officer standing over him while he sat on the edge of the sofa.
After getting over his initial shock, Terry realized he had to call for help, at least the police. But there was no way he could have let them see the Batcave, so he had carried Bruce's still form upstairs and sat him in the chair by the fire. It had been disturbing in its own way, but it had been necessary. One thing Terry was sure of was that Bruce wouldn't have wanted the GDPD finding out his secret and searching around the cave.
He was also certain Bruce would have wanted him to continue to carry on the mantle of Batman, but Terry himself wasn't so sure. Without Bruce, it just wouldn't be the same. He wouldn't be able to make the same wisecracks, ask for advice when he was in a pinch, receive the same lectures when he made a terrible mistake and didn't instantly realize it. He knew how valuable the old man's experience was, but he'd never realized how much he still needed Bruce there. Terry suddenly felt very alone. And it was more than just being Batman; Bruce had been a father figure when Terry had lost his. And now that same pain was back, that same dark emptiness where there should have been a stern yet warm and caring figure, ready to support and guide him.
But right now, he had to answer the officer's questions. It took everything the boy had to hold back the tears threatening to develop.
"Now, just to make sure I have this straight, Mr. McGinnis, you came here for work tonight and found Mr. Wayne dead in that chair over there?" the officer asked, pointing to the now-empty chair; the coroner's office had already removed the body.
"Yes."
"About what time?"
"About 8:30." Terry replied. The officer jotted down a few more notes, thanked Terry and walked away. Meanwhile, other officers where investigating the premises, checking for any signs that Bruce's death was caused by something other than the most likely suspect, a heart attack.
"Terrence McGinnis?" Terry glanced up to see Commissioner Barbara Gordon standing over him. Relief flowed through his face.
"Yes."
"I'm here to ask a few follow up questions." she explained in her usual dead-set voice. Terry's eyes widened a little in surprise, but he nodded. He'd actually hoped Barbara would see the one issue with Bruce's body and come to talk to him. She was one of the few people with whom he could talk about the real events of the evening.
"You said you found Mr. Wayne's body by the fire this evening?" she asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice. Terry nodded.
"Strange that his body was so cold even though we're certain he's been dead for hours." she said accusingly, raising an eyebrow. Though this was the opening Terry had been waiting for, he didn't want the other police officers to overhear it. Also, although he was sure Barbara was probably just acting, her tone sounded very…rough. The way she dealt with usual suspects. Was she really that bitter towards Bruce?
"Yeah. But that's where I found him." Terry replied, his voice soft. "How long has he…?"
"We think he's been dead since early this morning. From the looks of things so far, he somehow overstrained his heart and died. Was he in the habit of exercising extraneously in the morning, Mr. McGinnis?" Barbara asked, her tone still hard and accusatory. A bolt of pain flashed through Terry as he shook his head. So, that was it. Bruce must have used that exosuit to save him again. Except this time he'd had to use it for much longer. And this time, the old man had paid with his life. All because of Terry.
A wave of guilt flowed through him, even stronger than when his father had died. That time, he hadn't been directly responsible for the actions that caused his father's death. This time though, if he hadn't been caught, if Bruce hadn't needed to save him…
"I see." Barbara said. "Well, I guess all that's left is to inform his next-of-kin."
Terry looked at her, his eyes widening. Several tiny bits of information began to piece themselves together in his head when he heard one of the officers yell, "Commissioner! You've got to see this!"
Terry glanced up to see the officer standing next to the grandfather clock, its hidden passage open for all to see, and then glanced back at Barbara. As he suspected, her eyes showed no trace of surprise or emotion.
"Well, let's see what's there, Officer Watson," she answered, giving Terry another accusing and cold look as she walked towards the clock. She glanced down the stairs before declaring, "Well, what do we have here?"
"Let me guess," Terry interrupted, getting up from the couch. "This is the part where you act shocked and surprised to find out that Bruce Wayne had a passage leading down into Batman's secret Batcave and piece together that I must be the current Batman."
The officers in the room all looked at Terry in surprise, while Barbara's showed a mix of surprise traced with rage. He stalked up to the clearly flabbergasted woman.
Then he grabbed her by the lapels of her coat and slammed her against the wall.
"Isn't that right?" Terry snarled. "Spellbinder?"
