Dana snuggled closer to Terry and sighed. Warm, happy, safe, and loved--if only for this half-hour. It was a ritual, one that kept Dana balanced and sane; every day, she and Terry would share a short lunch in the cafeteria, complain about the food and life in general, then move into the student lounge to watch the vid from one of the scattered love seats. In that half-hour, all sins were forgiven, all the missed dates were forgotten, all the time that should have been spent with her was made up for in full. Nobody she knew was pulled in as many directions by as many responsibilities as Terry was--and yet he never slighted her this half-hour of bliss. Who knows, maybe he even enjoys it as much as I do.
"Hey, it's on," Dana said, pulling out of her reverie and turning to look at the vidscreen. "C'mon, c'mon, get it out!" Impatient, Dana dug into Terry's jacket pocket. Startled, Terry jerked away, yanking the jacket away from his girlfriend. "Down, boy," she said with an expression that tried not to be hurt.
"Uh... sorry. I mean, it could be valuable, and I heard there was somebody picking pockets around school..." Offering a sheepish grin, Terry reached into the pocket and retrieved a Gotham Lotto ticket, careful not to pull out the batarang that was sharing space with it. It was one of the trick ones, the kind he liked to call "rope-a-rangs", that unspooled up to seventy-five meters of ultra-thin line when thrown. A good-luck charm, just in case--just in case anything.
If worse came to worse, he could always say he'd found it somewhere--Batman certainly left enough of them lying around.
"Oh, so now I'm a thief!" Dana giggled, smacking Terry in the ribs.
"Thief of hearts," he shot back, leaning in and kissing her lightly. "You've got mine all wrapped up." A momentary twinge of guilt washed through him as he saw the way Dana lit up. I should tell her that more often.
"Hey--they're reading the numbers," Dana said, pointing at the vid. Dutifully, Terry looked at the lotto ticket as the winning numbers were read off, and tried to think of what he'd say when his wasn't a winner. "It's the thought that counts." No way, too patronizing. "Ah, it doesn't matter." Great, tell her that her gift isn't important to you. "I'm always a winner with you." Is this a relationship or a Hallmark card?
"Terry!" Dana gasped.
"Uh--hey, it's the thought that makes me always a winner mattering to you." ...What did i just say?
"What did you just say?"
"I--"
"You won, you big doof! Look!" Stunned, Terry looked at the vidscreen, then at the ticket, then back at the vidscreen. Oddly, there was a striking similarity between the two.
"What? No way, I mean--this can't be... how much is this ticket for?"
"Ten thousand creds!" Dana crowed. "You're rich! Hey, everybody, Terry's rich! He just won ten thousand creds!" As if by magic, a crowd materialized around the love seat, each person clamoring to confirm the celebrity status of the big winner. Just in time, the bell rang, and the mob began to break up and go to class.
"Wow, I can't believe you won!" Dana said, putting off leaving for another moment.
"Tonight, I'll take you someplace snooty and expensive," Terry promised.
"But Mr. Wayne..."
"Maybe I'll hire somebody to take my place," he laughed, waving back as she melted into the after-lunch rush. Hire somebody to be Batman. No paycheck could ever be enough...
"Terry!" For a moment, Terry wasn't sure who was talking to him. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but the tone was all wrong.
"Nelson," he replied cautiously, taking his seat in Miss Martel's Biology 101 class. "Haven't seen you since Willie Watts trashed your car." Nelson laughed, breaking every rule of high school politics that Terry could think of.
"Ah, it's just a car," Nelson said, breaking the few rules that Terry'd forgotten. "So, I hear you're the rich man on campus these days," he continued. "Listen," he leaned in conspiratorially, "I'm throwing this bash at Dan's Vid Arcade, this Saturday--you wanna come?"
"I'll think about it," Terry answered, covering his surprise. Money may not buy happiness, but friends are a dime a dozen--if you've got enough dimes.
"Trust me, man, everybody who's anybody is gonna be there." Satisfied with the world and his central position in it, Nelson leaned back in his seat in preparation for Miss Martel's lecture. Keeping his eyes on the teacher, Terry flipped on the recorder he'd clipped inside the sleeve of his jacket. Taping lectures was against school policy, but Terry usually found that class was a great time to sleep--and a quiet night on patrol was a great time to make up for sleeping through class.
He'd just found the perfect position to catch a nap while appearing to pay at least minimal attention, when his desk buzzed softly beneath his elbows. Grimacing, he tapped the recieve button and watched a chat window open up--interclass chat was supposedly disabled on all desks, but most students had figured out a way to activate it anyway.
::Blade:://Hey, Terry
::McG1054:://What's up, Blade?
::Blade:://Heard Dana got you something special, what's the occasion
::McG1054:://Nothing special, just because
::McG1054:://Why, what's up?
::Blade:://Well... see, I just joined the Student World Awareness Society, and we're having this fundraiser to help combat the food shortages in the southern Sahara
::McG1054:://Wow, I heard about that, something about the hydroponic potato crops getting some sort of bug
::Blade:://Yeah, it's pretty bad. So, I was wondering if you could help us out?
::McG1054:://Uh... how?
::Blade:://Well, you _did_ just win ten thou...
::McG1054:://Oh yeah, that. I'm not used to it, y'know?
::Blade:://*giggle* No wonder Dana likes you. So, whadaya say?
::Blade:://Well?
::McG1054:://Sure. I can help you out.
::Blade:://Shway!!! Yr the best, Ter. Later
::McG1054:://Yeah, seeya.
Gotta start thinking about how to spend all that money, Terry told himself as he closed out the chat window. Wonder how many other charities there are around. I mean, I don't want to give away all of it, but-- His desk buzzed again, interrupting his thoughts. Looking down, he was surprised to see another chat request.
::McG1054:://What's up, Corey?
::Lone_Sentry:://nothin much man. listen, i was talking to the games club guys the other day, and we were talking about putting together some money for the soup kitchen down by crime alley. and i heard you won big, so i was wondering if you could maybe help us out.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Terry sighed. I bet there's lots of charities. I bet I don't even have to go looking for them.
"Ter, that was wonderful," Dana sighed, slipping her hand around his as he led her through the tingling forcefield that seperated Gotham On the River from the outside world. Yesterday, he wouldn't have even considered it--an appetizer from On the River cost half of his weekly check from Wayne. But, hey, Dana deserves it--and it's not like I can't afford it. Tomorrow, I'll be rolling in a pile of creds--ten thousand of 'em. Well, minus the hundred and fifty for dinner tonight... and the five hundred I promised for the soup kitchens... and the thou I promised for the south Saharan famine... and the three hundred for the--jeez. This is getting ridiculous.
Gotham River glinted, reflecting in waves the faint lights of the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge as Terry and Dana walked north along the tip of Amusement Mile, heading for the tube station at the northeastern corner of the peninsula. The Memorial Riverwalk was usually fairly safe; money flowed along it from the Rogers Yacht Basin, keeping away the disenfranchised and sociopathic. Usually.
"Why, lookee here!" a voice giggled. Then again, the Walk did skirt Amusement Mile--Jokerz territory. "What's this--awww, they must be on a date!" Cackling madly, a heavyset kid in facepaint hopped the low rail that nominally enclosed the Walk, his oversized shoes clopping against the plasticrete. Six more Jokerz followed, hooting and gibbering.
"Sure were!" Terry answered cheerfully, stepping forward and, incidentally, putting himself between Dana and the gangers. He recognized this particular pack from his nights as Batman; at the first sign of serious resistance, they'd retreat and look for easier prey. He wasn't sure if it was cowardice or just good business sense.
"Is that him?" the second of the Jokerz asked, pulling out a hardcopy picture. Terry's lips tightened as he recognized his own face on the pic.
"Can't be," one of them argued, "He doesn't have a goatee, or a curly mustache--or devil's horns!" Snorting laughter, he pointed at the flimsy, which someone had defaced with red ink.
"Terry, we've got to get out of here," Dana hissed, catching his elbow. "C'mon, we can head back to On the River!"
"Can't," he replied tersely.
"What? Why not?"
"Because there's three more of them behind us." Dana looked back and gasped; Terry didn't bother. It was their usual tactic.
"You dummy!" the clowns' leader snapped, using a rubber chicken to slap the guy holding the pic. "You're gonna scare him off!" Turning back to Terry and Dana, he put on a saccharine smile. "Are you really Terry McGuinness? 'Cos you're like a celebrity, y'know? They said you won all that money, and I heard about this charity, see," he jabbered, taking on a more sinister tone, "it's for clowns who can't find work, and I was wondering if maybe you wouldn't want to donate."
"Sure, sounds like a good cause." Terry pulled the ticket from his pocket and tossed it to the ground in front of him, distracting everyone long enough for him to reach into the other pocket for the batarang.
"Terry!" Dana wailed.
"That's real kind of you. Now, gimme your wallet! And that watch! Now, slag!" Snarling, the Jokerz ganger raised his rubber chicken threateningly.
A flat black object smacked into the pavement at the Jokerz' feet, exploding in a bat-shaped cloud of swirling smoke. Terry stood stunned, his hand still in his pocket. Hearing several meaty thuds, he whirled to find the three Jokerz that had been behind him and Dana sprawled on the plasticrete, moaning. There was a flash of shadow above him as sirens began to wail at the far end of the Walk, but by the time he looked up, the dark shape had disappeared into the smoke. An evil-sounding smack launched two of the Jokerz out of the cloud, where they landed in a heap; the remaining four stumbled out a moment later and collapsed, just as a quartet of policemen arrived.
"Are you two alright?" one of the officers asked as the last of the smoke dissipated to reveal--no one. Peering out over the water, Terry caught a glimpse of a distinctly feminine figure flying away on what looked like a giant, black playing card marked with a crimson, stylized bat.
"What's wrong with you?" Dana demanded, punching Terry in the shoulder. "I can't believe you were going to just give them that ticket!" Behind her, the four officers finished handcuffing the Jokerz and began loading them into the paddywagon. Noticing the ticket, one of the officers stooped to retrieve it.
"Dana, it's only money. You're worth way more than ten thousand creds to me." Dana stopped and looked into Terry's face. After a moment, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.
"Terry McGuinness, you're priceless."
"Sir, ma'am, I hate to interrupt, but I need to ask a few questions," one of the officers said, pulling out a notewand and activating its electronic display. "First, your names?"
"Terry McGuinnes, and Dana Tan."
"Great. And, does this belong to either of you?" The officer held up the lotto ticket.
"Yeah, I bought that for Terry yesterday," Dana said. "That's why we were out tonight, at On the River--Terry won!"
"Congratulations. I hate to say it, but we're probably going to have to hold the ticket as evidence for the next month or so, until we can put these kids away. You'll get it back; it will just take a while."
"Aww," Dana pouted.
"Not a problem, officer." At least that will keep the charities off me, for a while. I hope.
"Sorry. Now, if you could, tell me exactly what happened, from the time you left--where was it, again? Gotham On the River?"
"We were just walking to the tube station, and those seven Jokerz came over the fence and started talking to us," Dana said, "while the other three came around behind us. One of them had a picture of Terry, and he said he knew Terry had won the lottery, and that we should donate to some stupid charity he made up."
"Charity?" the officer asked.
"'For out-of-work clowns', he said," Terry told the officer. "So I dropped the ticket, and he told me he wanted my wallet and stuff."
"And then what happened?"
"Batman rescued us," Terry said after glancing at Dana. Except that I didn't. For one, the suit is at Wayne's. For two, I don't ride a gravsled shaped like a playing card. For three, I don't wear a bra.
"Ah, that explains it. I was wondering how the two of you had managed to take on all ten of those punks."
"Wasn't me, officer." For once.
"Well, here's my card. If you think of anything else, give me a call. We should be able to put these kids in juvie, get them the help they need. Officer Stanton over there will give you both a ride home."
"Thanks, officer," Dana said gratefully.
A river breeze blew in as Terry and Dana climbed into the patrol car, ruffling their hair. Glancing out into the night sky, Terry searched for signs of their mysterious rescuer.
Melanie?