Chapter 11

The last couple of minutes were a blur of pain in Terry's memory. Inque had been forming and pressing "needles" into various parts of his body. Although Terry was certain Inque had purposely avoided any fatal areas, he was just as certain she had chosen some of the most painful places as well. The worst part was that she kept his eyes covered and attacked in unpredictable patterns so he was unable to prepare himself physically or mentally. He honestly wanted to cry, but all he could really do was scream--that is, until Inque covered his mouth with her own. For a few minutes it continued like that: he silently screaming and shaking, she kissing and torturing.

For a moment she stopped, her mouth freeing his, her razor sharp needles no longer poking. In the silence, Terry became aware of a frightened raspy breathing and then realized it was his own.

"Well, boy, nothing to say? No more of than defiant talk of yours?" Inque mocked.

"Please…" Terry whispered quietly through his raspy breaths.

"What was that? I'm afraid I couldn't hear you." Inque said, moving in closer.

"I said 'please'… go to hell, you disgusting bi--"

Terry was interrupted by the sound of his own scream as Inque set all her needles at him at once.

"Ever defiant to the end, aren't you? Fine. When I'm through with you, there'll hardly be anything left for Blight to finish off--" Terry was vaguely aware of the sound of a door slamming open interrupting Inque's speech. His soul sank with dread. If that was Blight right now, then this was it. This was how he was going to spend his last moments.

And suddenly, everything stopped. Inque's voice, the pain. At first, Terry was confused. Was he dead? But just as suddenly as everything had stopped, it came back: there was a warm throbbing pain from the various cuts Inque had inflicted on his body. But even more noticeable was Inque's wailing.

"Wh-what?! What's happening to me?! Why am I turning back into…this can't be! Where's my power gone?! What's happening?!" As she screamed, Terry could feel her clutches loosening and retreating, freeing him and allowing him to finally see.

Inque was before him, quickly forming back into her humanoid shape. She kept staring at her hands in horror as her tendrils retreated into her.

"Why? I don't understand!" the polymorph cried, rubbing her hands across her face, as though she didn't understand why it was there. "Why am I turning back into a human?"

Terry stared at her quizzically. Human? What was she talking about? This looked no different from her usual humanoid form. Her occasional tests of her abilities worked just fine, yet the polymorph continued to stare in horror at her own hands as though a black tidal wave of liquid hadn't just spouted out of them.

"Inque?" he tried. She ignored his inquiry, continuing to rant about the loss of her powers.

"She can't hear you. Or see you. She's trapped in an illusion," a familiar voice said from behind him. Terry twisted around in the chair, his wide eyes taking in the sight of the old man holding the orb.

"B-Bruce?" the boy gasped, almost as though staring at a ghost.

"You were expecting someone else?" came the usual sarcastic answer.

"But…but how? I thought Blight… how could you have fought him?"

"I was prepared for him, obviously."

"How did you know to expect him?" Terry asked, still incredulous.

"Who else could've left a footprint scorched into solid concrete?" Bruce replied.

"Right. Of course…" Terry replied, his face downcast. Bruce raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"You alright?"

"I will be," the boy replied, gripping the arm of the chair and shakily trying to stand.

Bruce's stomach turned with disgust at the holes and in his student's clothes. None of the injuries looked particularly dangerous, but they looked painful. He tried not to stare at the hand gripping the hand rest. Especially not at the blood coming from under Terry's fingernails.

It was obvious to Bruce, from the boy's pale face, that Terry needed to rest. But now wasn't the time. Blight and Shriek would be coming soon and Terry would need to be in the bat suit to fight them.

"Wow. I gotta admit, this is pretty pathetic." Terry mumbled.

"What are you talking about?"

"This whole plan of theirs. It was so obvious. You probably would've seen through that trap Inque laid for me in the alley. I didn't even realize Blight was involved until I saw him." Terry sighed, his eyes still facing the floor. "But I guess that's why you're Batman."

"Wrong." Bruce replied, sternly. "That's why I'm considered the world's greatest detective. I'm considered Batman because I came for you."

With that he walked over to Terry and placed the orb on the chair. Then he placed a hand on his protégé's shoulder and with the other took out the backpack with the bat suit within it and held it out to Terry.

"The same as you've done and would do if anyone else was in a similar predicament." Bruce said, quietly.

Terry stared at the bag for a moment, the events of the night running through his head. All the challenges brought before him and how he'd faced them. Bruce was right, it was just as he'd told Spellbinder: protecting others, that was why he was Batman.

"Thanks, Bruce," he replied, taking the bag. The old man simply nodded.

"I hate to rush you, but Shriek and Blight will be here any moment. You're going to need to keep them busy while I work on this." Bruce explained, picking up the orb.

"What are you going to do with that?" Terry asked.

"It's a bit more advanced, but this device is very similar to the ones the Mad Hatter used to use. With the tools I brought I should be able to modify it so it backtracks their brainwaves and subsequently deletes them." Bruce replied.

"You mean--?"

Bruce nodded. "That's right. I'm going to erase their memories of tonight."

The sound of something being smashed in the distance interrupted their conversation.

"That would be them. They can't be too far away. Hurry up and change." Bruce ordered, walking towards the door to the hall.

"Got it" Terry answered, pulling the bat suit from his backpack. Then a sudden thought occurred to him.

"Wait. Bruce, those tools. How were you expecting Spellbinder?" Terry asked. Bruce paused at the door.

"Someone had to create the illusion of Shriek falling so he could escape," the old man answered with a smile.

"Oh, yeah. Of course. I knew that." Terry stammered, his face turning red with embarrassment.

"Uh-huh." Bruce said, sarcastically. "Can't rely on gadgets to do all the work you need to do up here, Ter." He pointed to his head before turning back to the door and glancing at the orb. "But then again, there are times when they're awfully useful."