Chapter 10

Terry's head was still clearing from the dream, his eyes still closed. In the darkness though he could hear voices.

"I don't understand it! How could he beat my illusions not once, but twice? I easily tricked him before." Definitely Spellbinder.

"Obviously he's improved from your earlier encounters," A sultry voice replied. Inque. Terry heard a groan of frustration.

"I still don't understand what went wrong. I sent him to his deepest nightmares, his worst fears. Most people become their weakest when faced with that. But not him. He just becomes stronger. It doesn't make any sense!" Spellbinder replied. "He should be shaking, screaming, crying. Anything! But instead he just sits there calmly."

Terry kept his eyes closed. Somehow, it seemed better to pretend to be asleep for as long as possible. Hopefully they'd leave him alone if he did. Or even better, accidentally spill some useful information, although with these two he doubted it.

"Perhaps your little orb is broken?" Inque offered.

"Maybe," Spellbinder muttered.

"In any case, it's my turn," Inque sneered, tightening Terry's bonds a little. Terry felt his heart begin to race. Slaggit. So much for leaving him alone.

"Very well," Spellbinder reluctantly agreed, checking the orb. "I'm going to examine this in the next room. Let me know when you're finished or Blight and Shriek return."

With that the illusionist walked out a door opposite the one that led to the stairs as Inque leaned over Terry, who kept his eyes tightly shut, still trying to pretend to be asleep. No one even noticed the figure who had been observing from the vent in the ceiling.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The air vent was small but years of practice didn't fail Bruce as he quietly followed Spellbinder. He hated to leave Terry behind with Inque but right then Spellbinder was his most important target. Besides, it looked like Inque didn't intend to kill the boy. Spellbinder wouldn't have left otherwise.

As Bruce carefully kept pace with the illusionist, he couldn't help but curse the man for lying. Instead of simply going to the next room over, he had walked down the hall and to the room at the far end. The old man kept his grunts to himself as he finally reached the room and peered through the vent. His gaze was filled with the sight of a small room, most likely a place for storage, containing a small table with tools littered on it. Spellbinder sat at the table and began to operate on the orb, his back to the vent. Good.

Bruce paused for a moment. The opportunity was ripe, unfortunately, he wasn't sure he could reap it. He could break out the exo suit again, take Spellbinder by surprise and quickly overpower him. But it seemed like overkill on such a physically weaker villain. Besides, the commotion might alert Inque, something Bruce didn't want yet. Silence was definitely the preferred method, if he could carefully unscrew the vent, but he wasn't sure he could manage it with his frail, unsteady hands. If only he had a distraction…

-----------------------------------------------------

Once Spellbinder left the room, Terry felt Inque slither close to his ear. He kept his head down, eyes closed, trying to remain as still as possible, hoping against all his doubts that Inque would think he was asleep.

"I know you're awake, boy," she whispered in his ear. "I could feel your heart racing."

Despite the obvious tightening of his muscles, Terry kept his eyes tightly shut.

"Aww, don't be like that," he heard Inque say, a slight hint of a giggle in her voice. "Well, then, if you're going to play hard to get…"

Suddenly Terry felt a swift, poking sensation on his ribs. A cry of surprise nearly escaped from his lips and he barely managed to grit his teeth and keep his mouth shut. Still he kept his eyes closed.

"Oh? Still being stubborn I see." Inque again. From the sound of her voice she was right in front of him, probably studying his face. "Very well. Have it your way."

The old bonds tightened, even as Inque formed new bonds around Terry's elbows, raising his arms and lifting them away from his torso. Before he could comprehend what was happening, Terry felt fingers dig into his ribs.

The reaction was instantaneous. He jumped up, a cry escaping from his lips. The boy would've been halfway out of the chair if the bonds hadn't held him so tightly.

"Ah, not asleep anymore I take it?" Inque teased, her fingers keeping up the attack even as Terry tried to squirm away.

"Stop! Please," Terry pleaded, laughing.

"My, my. Squirmy all of the sudden, aren't you?" Inque continued, unable to resist tormenting the boy a little longer. "Now are you try to pretend to be asleep anymore?" Terry shook his head.

"Good," Inque smiled, finally stopping. Terry slumped against the chair, catching his breathe. He could feel the polymorph's tendrils begin to wrap around him.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Terry asked, looking at Inque where her humanoid face and hands appeared in front of him. Inque placed a finger on his lips, his head held tightly against his struggles to turn it away as she did so.

"Why," she said in a flirtatious, sultry voice, her face darkening into a smirk as her finger traced his lips, "About to have fun, of course."

--------------------------------------------------

Terry's screams echoed from down the hall. Bruce cringed at the sound. Whatever Inque was doing to him, it sounded painful. Ironically though, it was just the distraction he needed. Spellbinder had turned at the first shout but then ignored the sounds that came after. A good thing, since Bruce would have to work even faster now.

Quickly, he pulled the tools out of his pocket and began working to open the vent. His vision remained focused on what he was doing, but he kept Spellbinder in his peripheral. No matter what was happening to Terry, he had to remain calm and steady. A mistake now, a little too much noise, and Spellbinder would become aware of his presence. If he became trapped in one of Spellbinder's illusions he'd be helpless. And most likely he and Terry would both be killed.

The screams stopped just as Bruce started working on the final screw. Crap. Just when he was about to get to the noisiest part too.

Carefully, Bruce let the vent lower, turning on its final screw. Fortunately it didn't creak. A good thing, since he was literally four feet from the back of Spellbinder's head, who he could see was just finishing up. Reaching around, Bruce grabbed his cane, which he approximated at about three feet and held it in his grip, which he estimated gave him another two feet once his head and arms were out of the vent. Perfect.

With his calculations complete, Bruce turned back to the target before him. Holding the cane like a bat, he held it over his head and then swung down as hard as he could. Spellbinder went down with barely a groan.

Quickly, Bruce slipped the rest of the way out of the vent and landed on the floor, rather painfully. The impact hurt his knee, but there was no time for that. Down the hall, Bruce could hear Terry's cries again.

The old man's expression darkened. As Batman, Bruce had already been a terrifying force for Gotham City's criminal element. But nothing compared to how hard he would push when someone was in danger. Especially when it was someone he knew. Cared about. Trained. Loved. Mask or no, that resolve had not weakened. Even as a frail old man, Bruce Wayne was still a terrifying force to be reckoned with.

One hand gripped his cane in a strong, hard grip. The other carefully gripped the orb. His feet then began to walk slow yet determined steps down the hall.