Author: Katfairy
Jillybeans Note: Sorry about the bad formatting, my fault :(
Gathering of Forces
******************************************************
Bruce opened the door slowly, peering out through the crack. The two guards were talking together, watching the hall but not his door. He eased his way out then slipped into the next room. Someone would be along to check on him soon and he'd be able to slip out in the ensuing confusion.
He just hoped he'd be in time.
"Been a while since a handsome young man snuck into my room."
He froze. Turning slowly, he saw a fragile-looking lady with snow-white hair lying in bed, grinning at him.
"Young?" he couldn't help asking.
"Honey, I'm 106 years old. You're, what, eighty? To me that's young. And I can tell you're in trouble so what can I do to help?"
"I'm not sure-"
"Be sure. Hell, kid, what have you got to lose?"
"Want a list?" he snapped. He'd forgotten how annoying it was being called "kid".
"I'm not going anywhere." She eyed him for a moment. "But I bet you should be. So, seriously, what do you need? I've got family in this place and they'll do what Miss Sylvia tells them."
"I need to get out."
"Life or death?"
"Literally."
"Need a disguise?"
"Probably, but-"
"Hush, I'm thinking. Geez, where's Batman when you need him?" He decided not to answer that. "Hah! Got it!"
"I can hardly wait," Bruce grumbled. He couldn't believe he was even half-contemplating listening to her; on the other hand, if she really had come up with something he'd be a fool to pass it up. It wasn't like his own idea was that great.
"Hush, you," she ordered, picking up the phone. "My great-grandson works here. A nice Jewish boy- a doctor! Thank god for stereotypes- he's bound to have a spare- oh, Jake, dear, hello. Could you come up here, please? And you do have a spare yarmulke, right? -I thought so. Bring it. ... Jacob Daniel Leventhal, are you arguing with your great-grandmother? You bring it and yourself up here right now and no more backtalk!" She hung up the phone sharply, then giggled. Bruce shook his head. This was too easy. It couldn't work. But... he knew from experience the best disguises were often the simplest. Like a pair of glasses and a different hairstyle- that one had fooled an experienced investigative reporter for years.
"Miss Sylvia, what are you up t- oh, shit," the man who walked through the door choked. "You're Bruce Wayne. And I'm screwed. You're as bad as your assistant- no wonder half the town thinks he's your kid."
"What do you mean?"
"It's just a rumor," Dr. Leventhal sighed as he dug a comb, hair-clips, and a green-and-grey crocheted yarmulke out of his pockets.
"No, about being as bad as Terry."
"Both of you should be in bed recuperating, but nooooo, you're up and running around trying to get yourselves killed. This is about your stalker, isn't it?"
"A stalker?" Miss Sylvia's violet eyes widened.
"You mean there's something in this hospital you don't know? You're slipping, Miss Sylvia. At any rate, I'm surprised the boy can stand, considering what Daria- Dr. Barnes- told me."
"Which was?"
Dr. Leventhal hesitated, but twin glares from the two older people prodded him on. "He'd been shot. Not with a laser, with a bullet. By the time he let himself get dragged in he'd already developed an infection. He's on pain-killers, antibiotics, and probably some other stuff, you'd have to ask Daria- saying he's got a diminished capacity is like saying the Joker needed a tan!"
Bruce frowned again. He'd known Terry was hurt, but he hadn't realized it was that serious.
"Then I definitely have to get out of here."
"Not without me, you don't," Dr. Leventhal sighed.
"Out of the question."
"You're going after McGinnis, right? And you both need medical supervision right now."
"Forget it."
"I have a car."
A commotion erupted next door; they'd finally noticed Bruce was gone.
"All right. But if I tell you to do something, you do it immediately- no questions asked."
"Done and done. Back in a sec." Dr. Leventhal grinned and slipped out of the room, returning in less than a minute with an oversized bathrobe. In the short time he was gone Bruce had combed his hair into a different style and pinned on the yarmulke. He donned the bathrobe, rather impressed that the doctor had managed to find one that much too big for him. That done, he slipped into the persona of a pleasant, slightly befuddled old gentleman. Miss Sylvia applauded softly.
"Oh, you're good, honey," she chortled. "Now you be sure and come back and tell me how it all worked out. And bring that assistant of yours, too."
Bruce, staying in character, sent her an affable smile in return. She laughed again and waved them away. They made the elevator without incident, skirting the commotion next door. As soon as they were safely away, Bruce gave Dr. Leventhal a sharp look.
"So what was your other reason for helping?"
"Self-preservation. See, I know who your assistant's parents were and heredity can be a stone bitch. I was at MIT a few years behind them; people were still talking about Scary Mary and Mad McGinnis. I am not pissing off the son of the pair who gift-wrapped Kresge! Not to mention what they did with the dinosaur..."
Bruce almost smiled, feeling a little bit less worried. He'd never thought of Mary McGinnis as a prankster, but anyone who could gain that level of respect at MIT was definitely a force to be reckoned with. He had a feeling his job has just gotten much easier- either that or a hell of a lot more complicated.
*********************************************************
"Matty, hon, if I ever catch you trying to do what I'm about to do there will be no video games for a month- and I'll tell Mr. Wayne." Mary knew that would keep her hyper-active younger son in line. She just hoped Mr. Wayne never learned she used him as the Ultimate Threat. Terry had almost laughed himself sick the first time he'd caught her at it, but it worked. Still, she didn't want to hurt that nice old man's feelings.
That boy, on the other hand...
"-an engineer, of course,
Was the only one who noticed
That Godiva rode a horse," Mary sang softly to herself as she worked. The song was practically her alma mater and she had an unconscious tendency to sing it when she was hacking. This promised to be one of her better efforts; that little shit was going to learn why you didn't fuck with the Hacking Queen of Random Hall.
*******************************************************
Matt watched his mother set to work with a reverence bordering on awe. He hadn't seen her this mad since the time Mr. Tan gave Terry a black eye. He grinned evilly; Mom on the rampage was even schwayer than having a Green Lantern ring.
*******************************************************
Selina ran for her car, digging her phone out of her bag as she went. She rolled her as as she passed the cops who were supposedly arresting Hannah, now sitting on a bench sporting dopey grins. There were times when she sympathized with Ivy's views on men.
"Devon? New plan. Meet me at Wayne Manor. Now."
*******************************************************
Dana raced toward Wayne Manor. It was time she and Craig had a good long talk, and if she didn't like the answers she got he was going to be one sorry son of a bitch.
********************************************************
Terry sat in the Batmobile, more grateful than he'd ever been for the autopilot. And the drugs. Generally he hated being on medication but at the moment he knew it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing into a sniveling puddle of pain. Still all he had to do was find the locket and get it to Selina. And maybe if he was really lucky he'd get another chance to deck Craig.
********************************************************
Max stood over Craig's twitching form, smirking. The stun gun to the nuts was a nice touch, she thought. Picking up his ankles, she dragged him to a closet and locked him in.
"Can't leave you lying there, can I? You clash with the rug. Now to find Terry's family."
She decided to start at the top of the house and work her way down. It was a good call; as she walked through the upstairs hall she could hear singing, so loud and off-key it had to be deliberate.
"Bingo," she said and reached for the doorknob.
Jillybeans Note: Sorry about the bad formatting, my fault :(
Gathering of Forces
******************************************************
Bruce opened the door slowly, peering out through the crack. The two guards were talking together, watching the hall but not his door. He eased his way out then slipped into the next room. Someone would be along to check on him soon and he'd be able to slip out in the ensuing confusion.
He just hoped he'd be in time.
"Been a while since a handsome young man snuck into my room."
He froze. Turning slowly, he saw a fragile-looking lady with snow-white hair lying in bed, grinning at him.
"Young?" he couldn't help asking.
"Honey, I'm 106 years old. You're, what, eighty? To me that's young. And I can tell you're in trouble so what can I do to help?"
"I'm not sure-"
"Be sure. Hell, kid, what have you got to lose?"
"Want a list?" he snapped. He'd forgotten how annoying it was being called "kid".
"I'm not going anywhere." She eyed him for a moment. "But I bet you should be. So, seriously, what do you need? I've got family in this place and they'll do what Miss Sylvia tells them."
"I need to get out."
"Life or death?"
"Literally."
"Need a disguise?"
"Probably, but-"
"Hush, I'm thinking. Geez, where's Batman when you need him?" He decided not to answer that. "Hah! Got it!"
"I can hardly wait," Bruce grumbled. He couldn't believe he was even half-contemplating listening to her; on the other hand, if she really had come up with something he'd be a fool to pass it up. It wasn't like his own idea was that great.
"Hush, you," she ordered, picking up the phone. "My great-grandson works here. A nice Jewish boy- a doctor! Thank god for stereotypes- he's bound to have a spare- oh, Jake, dear, hello. Could you come up here, please? And you do have a spare yarmulke, right? -I thought so. Bring it. ... Jacob Daniel Leventhal, are you arguing with your great-grandmother? You bring it and yourself up here right now and no more backtalk!" She hung up the phone sharply, then giggled. Bruce shook his head. This was too easy. It couldn't work. But... he knew from experience the best disguises were often the simplest. Like a pair of glasses and a different hairstyle- that one had fooled an experienced investigative reporter for years.
"Miss Sylvia, what are you up t- oh, shit," the man who walked through the door choked. "You're Bruce Wayne. And I'm screwed. You're as bad as your assistant- no wonder half the town thinks he's your kid."
"What do you mean?"
"It's just a rumor," Dr. Leventhal sighed as he dug a comb, hair-clips, and a green-and-grey crocheted yarmulke out of his pockets.
"No, about being as bad as Terry."
"Both of you should be in bed recuperating, but nooooo, you're up and running around trying to get yourselves killed. This is about your stalker, isn't it?"
"A stalker?" Miss Sylvia's violet eyes widened.
"You mean there's something in this hospital you don't know? You're slipping, Miss Sylvia. At any rate, I'm surprised the boy can stand, considering what Daria- Dr. Barnes- told me."
"Which was?"
Dr. Leventhal hesitated, but twin glares from the two older people prodded him on. "He'd been shot. Not with a laser, with a bullet. By the time he let himself get dragged in he'd already developed an infection. He's on pain-killers, antibiotics, and probably some other stuff, you'd have to ask Daria- saying he's got a diminished capacity is like saying the Joker needed a tan!"
Bruce frowned again. He'd known Terry was hurt, but he hadn't realized it was that serious.
"Then I definitely have to get out of here."
"Not without me, you don't," Dr. Leventhal sighed.
"Out of the question."
"You're going after McGinnis, right? And you both need medical supervision right now."
"Forget it."
"I have a car."
A commotion erupted next door; they'd finally noticed Bruce was gone.
"All right. But if I tell you to do something, you do it immediately- no questions asked."
"Done and done. Back in a sec." Dr. Leventhal grinned and slipped out of the room, returning in less than a minute with an oversized bathrobe. In the short time he was gone Bruce had combed his hair into a different style and pinned on the yarmulke. He donned the bathrobe, rather impressed that the doctor had managed to find one that much too big for him. That done, he slipped into the persona of a pleasant, slightly befuddled old gentleman. Miss Sylvia applauded softly.
"Oh, you're good, honey," she chortled. "Now you be sure and come back and tell me how it all worked out. And bring that assistant of yours, too."
Bruce, staying in character, sent her an affable smile in return. She laughed again and waved them away. They made the elevator without incident, skirting the commotion next door. As soon as they were safely away, Bruce gave Dr. Leventhal a sharp look.
"So what was your other reason for helping?"
"Self-preservation. See, I know who your assistant's parents were and heredity can be a stone bitch. I was at MIT a few years behind them; people were still talking about Scary Mary and Mad McGinnis. I am not pissing off the son of the pair who gift-wrapped Kresge! Not to mention what they did with the dinosaur..."
Bruce almost smiled, feeling a little bit less worried. He'd never thought of Mary McGinnis as a prankster, but anyone who could gain that level of respect at MIT was definitely a force to be reckoned with. He had a feeling his job has just gotten much easier- either that or a hell of a lot more complicated.
*********************************************************
"Matty, hon, if I ever catch you trying to do what I'm about to do there will be no video games for a month- and I'll tell Mr. Wayne." Mary knew that would keep her hyper-active younger son in line. She just hoped Mr. Wayne never learned she used him as the Ultimate Threat. Terry had almost laughed himself sick the first time he'd caught her at it, but it worked. Still, she didn't want to hurt that nice old man's feelings.
That boy, on the other hand...
"-an engineer, of course,
Was the only one who noticed
That Godiva rode a horse," Mary sang softly to herself as she worked. The song was practically her alma mater and she had an unconscious tendency to sing it when she was hacking. This promised to be one of her better efforts; that little shit was going to learn why you didn't fuck with the Hacking Queen of Random Hall.
*******************************************************
Matt watched his mother set to work with a reverence bordering on awe. He hadn't seen her this mad since the time Mr. Tan gave Terry a black eye. He grinned evilly; Mom on the rampage was even schwayer than having a Green Lantern ring.
*******************************************************
Selina ran for her car, digging her phone out of her bag as she went. She rolled her as as she passed the cops who were supposedly arresting Hannah, now sitting on a bench sporting dopey grins. There were times when she sympathized with Ivy's views on men.
"Devon? New plan. Meet me at Wayne Manor. Now."
*******************************************************
Dana raced toward Wayne Manor. It was time she and Craig had a good long talk, and if she didn't like the answers she got he was going to be one sorry son of a bitch.
********************************************************
Terry sat in the Batmobile, more grateful than he'd ever been for the autopilot. And the drugs. Generally he hated being on medication but at the moment he knew it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing into a sniveling puddle of pain. Still all he had to do was find the locket and get it to Selina. And maybe if he was really lucky he'd get another chance to deck Craig.
********************************************************
Max stood over Craig's twitching form, smirking. The stun gun to the nuts was a nice touch, she thought. Picking up his ankles, she dragged him to a closet and locked him in.
"Can't leave you lying there, can I? You clash with the rug. Now to find Terry's family."
She decided to start at the top of the house and work her way down. It was a good call; as she walked through the upstairs hall she could hear singing, so loud and off-key it had to be deliberate.
"Bingo," she said and reached for the doorknob.
