The museum alarm blared. Someone else had broken in and stolen something while Maggie the Bat was in Night Terror's custody.
The party guests out in the foyer panicked as the museum's security staff made their way in the direction of the west wing.
A black-hooded ninja had just smashed through the glass of a display case and snatched one of the rarest treasures of them all.
After several minutes of keeping her muscles tense, Maggie finally relaxed her arms and was able to slide her hands through the ropes that bound her wrists. She then cut through the ropes around her torso with her nails, cutting through the fingers of her gloves as well.
She sprung from her chair feet-first, kicking Night Terror in the shins and knocking him down even as her ankles were still bound.
She cut through the remaining ropes at her feet only about halfway when she realized the two goons had drawn their guns. Before they could fire she snatched Night Terror's wooden staff and swung, hitting both the goons' knuckles hard enough that they dropped her weapons. They recoiled like they had just been reprimanded by a painfully stern teacher and her ruler.
The ropes slid from Maggie's ankles as she cartwheeled in their direction and a double-kicked in the male goon's jaw, throwing him back on the manager's desk. Night Terror's staff still firmly in her grip, she tripped the female goon from below and knocked her off her feet.
While she was down, Maggie pinned her down with the staff at her neck.
She reached into the lady's jacket, retrieving the Diamond Snare. "I'll take that."
She was about to make her way out the door but Night Terror had gotten back up and steadfastly stood in her way, his arms and feet wide apart like he was determined to act as a human wall. But Maggie hit him in the stomach with the end of his own staff, making him crumple forward. She then stomped on his foot with the heel of her shoe.
"You dance for me now, monkey!" Maggie declared as he hopped on one foot.
"Excuse me?!" she heard an offended Monkey Fist exclaim through her earpiece.
"Oh! No offense, Monty." One of the goons lunged at Maggie and she ducked, allowing the goon to bang against the filing cabinet. "Hang on! Were you listening in the whole time?"
"Well, I…" She could hear how flustered Monkey Fist was on the other end as she crawled out from underneath the stunned goon. "Suppose you were to give away my position! I should very well like to know that ahead of time!"
Maggie's mouth curved into a smile as she got back to her feet. "You were worried about me, weren't you?"
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"That is so sweet of you," she teased as she leaned back and dodged a kick from the lady goon, only barely missing her chest.
"Look, I'd love to argue semantics with you but we need to get to our transport!" Monkey Fist reminded.
Over on the other end of the west wing the hooded ninja was up against a wall and looking out a window. Security staff was already gathering in the guest parking lot to ambush the intruders.
"Which might prove difficult…" Monkey Fist added.
"Don't worry," Maggie reassured. The lady goon failed to land a punch, instead having Maggie grab her arm and throw her against the wall. "I got it covered."
With the goons momentarily dispatched, Maggie eyed the still hopping Night Terror. She breezed by him, the light brush of her elbow finally knocking the masked buffoon over.
"What?!" Night Terror sat up and frantically checked his pockets. "MY KEYS!"
He looked up and saw Maggie leaning in the doorway, twirling his keys around her finger. "Sorry, babe! But you took back the ring! I'm taking back the bike!"
Maggie made a mad dash down the hall.
"Meet me outside the garden, Monty!"
As she rushed down the stairs it was only then that she noticed that her lovely blue dress had been torn in the scuffle. What a shame.
She opened the heavy door to the underground parking garage. There in one of the employee parking spaces was the sleek burgundy motorcycle she had gotten Night Terror as an anniversary gift several years ago. It still had the bat wing-shaped fins on the sides and, to his credit, it was still in good shape.
However it looked like it got a new paint job, as she could no longer see its name written in silver on the side: Hurricane.
A matching helmet was left hanging off of one of the handles and she slipped it on after taking her seat. Many a time she had ridden on the back of this despite her own license to ride it, but now she was hers.
She turned the key in the ignition. It was great to hear the old girl roar again.
Back in the darkened west wing three members of the security staff had caught up with the hooded ninja and shined their flashlights on him as he tried to sneak towards the exit. For the moment they saw no evidence that he was carrying stolen goods, but he reached for something in his sleeve. Alarmed, they retrieved their weapons and they were about to open fire.
The ninja ducked from their collective light sources and they felt something metallic trip them all up at once, like they had been simultaneously hit in the shins by a metal pipe despite him being several feet away from them.
The ninja darted towards the hall, but not before one of the guards was able to fire a few shots in his direction.
Monkey Fist made sure he was far out of their sight when he stopped to acknowledge that he had been hit in the left flank. It stung immensely and it bled into his black clothes, but he didn't have the time to attend to it. Not yet. He had what he needed and he was so close to escaping.
He made his way for the balcony, unaware that a limping Night Terror was not far behind him. He had failed to catch up with Maggie and now chose to go after her partner.
Meanwhile out on the balcony Bates was just regaining consciousness, the drug having worn off accompanied by the muffled blaring of the alarm.
His eye caught the black-clad thief about to spring over the railing when he dove forward and grabbed him by the ankle, causing him to fall forward.
The ninja would have fought him off on instinct, but he flinched as his bullet wound throbbed at his side.
A determined Bates yanked the mask off his head.
He felt the color leave his face at the sight of his old, presumably dead employer.
Neither man spoke, both in a state of shock to see each other and under such circumstances.
But then they both heard a panting Night Terror push through the glass door and urgently rush towards them.
For a split second Night Terror recognized the features of the unmasked ninja, before Bates stuck his foot out and tripped him mid-run.
"Oh, heavens," Bates said dryly. "How clumsy of me."
Night Terror moaned as he could barely remain conscious. He didn't see Bates shoot a stone-cold gaze at Monkey Fist as he unhanded him.
Bates said nothing, only lifting an eyebrow as if to say, "Consider this my condolences, old friend."
Monkey Fist returned the stern look in thanks as he got back to his feet, and vanished over the balcony railing like a serpent.
He made his way through the garden and between the bars of the west gate, where Maggie was idling on her newly-acquired motorcycle.
"What took you so long?" she teased.
He didn't bother to ask about the unfortunate state of her dress or even how she acquired such a vehicle. He sat behind her and held tight around her waist.
Maggie drove off in the direction from which they came. The north exit out of Middleton.
But they weren't out of the woods yet. As she kept to the less busy streets it didn't take long before they could hear police sirens behind them. Whether it was for the robbery itself or multiple speeding violations it didn't matter.
Monkey Fist found himself intensely clinging to her. Part of it was the awareness that he had no helmet on, but also despite his criminal history, high-speed chases were a little out of his wheelhouse. He couldn't understand how Maggie could be so calm.
Though the truth was she was only barely keeping her cool. She had to be. The police sirens were making her incredibly anxious, as even with a full-helmet on the noise affected her hearing and cut through her like a knife. She had to keep a sharp eye ahead of her so as to weave through traffic without crashing. So many times she barely missed other drivers' taillights.
Their hearts raced as they were almost out of town, but the draw-bridge up ahead of them was just starting to rise.
"Hang on to your shurikens!" Maggie warned, her fists tightening.
Monkey Fist braced himself.
They broke through the barrier and shot up the slope.
Time seemed to slow as they were airborne. Maggie held her breath as she was both terrified and excited at once, whereas it took all of Monkey Fist's strength to keep from screaming. His grip around her waist only tightened, anticipating that they were either going to crash or fall into the water.
The wheels finally bounced back onto the asphalt and Monkey Fist let out a high-pitched gasp. They made it.
The police sirens faded behind them as Maggie continued down the empty road. Out of Middleton and towards the woods.
The thieves finally came to a stop when they were certain that the police were several miles behind them. They shrouded themselves and the bike among the trees so they could catch their breath. Up in the night sky they could actually see a collection of stars, confirming that they were far out of town.
Monkey Fist leaned against a tree and exhaled in a wheeze that quickly turned into a laugh like that of a frenzied monkey.
Maggie took off her helmet. Did her ears and eyes deceive her? First time she actually heard him laugh like that since she met him, and out of thrill and enjoyment, no less.
Monkey Fist was astonished that they made it out of there, but it was also very exhilarating. He was lightheaded and having a hard time coming down from the adrenaline rush alone.
"Fun, huh?" Maggie smiled.
"Yes!" he laughed. He finally got it out of his system and caught his breath. He looked up at Maggie. With his smile remaining in place he added, "Let's never do that again…"
Maggie giggled. "No promises." She leaned forward with her elbows resting on the bike seat. "So, did you get it?"
"Of course, I—" But then Monkey Fist winced as he drew in a sharp breath. His wound was still throbbing.
"What is it?"
"It's nothing," Monkey Fist insisted. "Just a scratch."
She leaped over the bike and took his hand away from his side. She got a good look at his bullet wound. There was no sign that anything was lodged in there, but it was still bleeding. In a way he was correct that it was a scratch, but a very deep one.
"That's not nothing," she argued.
She knelt down and tore strips of blue fabric from her skirt. The dress was already ruined; what more damage could be done?
"No, really, Margaret," Monkey Fist insisted. "I'll be fine. I've endured far worse."
Maggie stood back up. "Come on, you big ape." She wasted no time pulling his gi open and securing the shreds of fabric around his waist. Until they had access to a proper first aid kit it should have been enough to hold back the bleeding.
Monkey Fist panted. It was like he was taken aback with how forward she was. Or perhaps "forward" was the wrong word for it. In any case, she had just sprung into action to dress his wound and he was not accustomed to that.
What felt strangely intimate to him was merely something casual to her, and he was a little surprised at that. She even helped him close his gi again, and it all went by so fast.
Maggie returned to the matter at hand. "Anyway, you got the item, right?"
Monkey Fist cleared his throat, hoping she didn't see him flushed. "I did." Monkey Fist pulled from his sleeve what looked like a chopstick made of black metal and adorned with gold on the ends.
"That's it?"
Monkey Fist smirked. With a flick of his wrist and the small stick grew to a size of a proper staff, almost as tall as he was. He held it up in a presentational manner. "That's it."
"Okay! Now I'm impressed! May I see that?"
He handed it to her and Maggie fell forward from its weight, almost stumbling into him. It was far thicker and heavier than he made it look.
He helped her back up as he took the staff back. He reduced it to the size of a crochet hook and tucked it back into his sleeve.
"I must say, Margaret," Monkey Fist complimented, "I'm quite pleased with the way you read your ex-husband the Riot Act back there."
"Yeah…" Maggie looked back in the direction of Middleton, wishing she could share the sentiment. She let out a heavy sigh. It was like she was finally coming down from the high she just experienced. Fast and hard.
Monkey Fist refastened his belt and took notice at the sullen look on Maggie's face. "Is something the matter, Margaret?"
"No, no, no," Maggie reassured. "I'm fine. I'm just… tired is all. It's been a helluva night."
Monkey Fist let out a silent chuckle. "Indeed."
Maggie slipped her helmet back on and took her seat on the bike again.
"Oh. Note to self: We need to get you a helmet, too," she observed.
"That won't be necessary," Monkey Fist replied as he sat behind her. "I don't plan on doing this again."
"Oh, really? That's a shame. I was hoping to show you some of my favorite cycling routes."
Monkey Fist tightly coiled his arms around her waist once more. His injury would mean they would have to bide their time before their next heist, but it was a relief to him that the mission was in such attentive, reliable hands.