Resonance
A Batman Beyond fic by YT
Batman Beyond aired on Kids' WB, the Batman universe belongs to DC comics, and so on and so forth…
As of this writing I haven't been working on my longer Batman Beyond fic lately (sorry!) because Life, and my Short Fiction class, are taking up my time and creative energy. I actually wrote this story for my Short Fiction class. The teacher knew nothing of Batman Beyond and, though I tried, I couldn't keep her from being confused – she had to read it a couple of times to figure out how the structure works, although fans shouldn't have any problem with that. This is a modified version of what I turned in. Hopefully it will be a better fanfic than it was a school assignment.
Anyway…read, review and enjoy. Constructive criticism is always welcome.
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June 12th, 2040
When I was fourteen, my buddy Charlie and I got in with a gang. They put us through all sorts of tests, naturally, to make sure that we were tough enough for them. For the last test, we had to help them pull off a job. When Charlie told me what they wanted my stomach did a ten-point gymnastic routine. But since I wanted to be cool, I didn't let him know I was scared.
It wasn't like we hadn't done anything illegal before, but we'd only done little things. Shoplifting. Vandalism. The occasional odd job for a drug pusher. But that night, for our final test, we were going to do something bigger. We were going to break and enter.
October 20th, 2043
Wayne uses the computer in the Cave to keep track of all the security systems in the city. Last night it picked up a silent alarm coming from an electronics store in the fancy Hyatt Rooftop Shopping Center downtown. I landed the Batmobile on the roof out of sight of the store, got out, set it on autopilot, and zigzagged my way over to the hot spot. Even though it was nighttime it wasn't all that dark – downtown Gotham is always lit up – so I had to put some work into making a covert approach. I don't like to use camo any more than I have to, since it drains so much power. When I got near the electronics store hid in a gazebo on the cobbled path nearby. I noticed that the front of the shop had been smashed. With my fingertip mikes I was able to hear the thieves moving around inside. "Wayne," I whispered, "Does that place have a back door?" I knew how the old man worked – he'd pulled up a blueprint of the place on the computer as soon as he knew where it was.
"There's a fire exit in back, but they'll probably be going out by the front entrance," he said. "After all, that's the way they came in." I hoped they would. It would make my job a lot easier.
My timing was almost perfect - I hadn't been sitting there for two minutes before the thieves came running out of the store carrying sacks of loot. The vision enhancers in my cowl let me see their painted faces and clown costumes in all their glory. "Jokerz," I groaned. Those dregs are common as flies, but less loveable.
I counted five of them, about the usual size for a Joker band. My hiding place was right on their escape route, since it was between them and the hovercraft they'd parked on the other side of the roof. I waited until they were close – whites-of-their-eyes close – and then I jumped out of the gazebo.
June 12th, 2040
We'd scoped out the house the way pros did. It was a three-story Victorian in the oldest part of Old Town, with a little yard surrounded by a high brick wall. The place was starting to fall apart, but it didn't look too bad yet. The only person who lived there was a rich old widow named Mrs. Comstock, and she'd left on vacation the day before.
Since I was the smallest, Charlie and Garrett - one of the gang boys - boosted me up so I could lie belly-down across the top of the wall and pull my legs up. I dropped down to the other side into a flowerbed, smashing the neat arrangement of blossoms. I cursed and stood up, brushing bits of flower off myself. Then I put my back to the wall, so I'd stay in its shadow and out of the light of the full moon, and slunk along it until I reached the front gate. It was a big wooden door with metal studs – old-fashioned, but with a modern keypad lock.
I had a screwdriver, a wire cutter and some paper clips with me. First I used the screwdriver to pry off the front of the keypad. That kind of thing is harder to do these days, but the one on that door wasn't really tamper-proof. My hands were shaking – I was sure someone was going to see me any second – so I dropped the screwdriver a couple of times. But eventually I got the front panel of the keypad off, and went to work with my wire cutter. I took a small flashlight out of my belt so I could see the wires and circuits in the keypad. Since I couldn't hold the flashlight and work with the wire cutters and clips at the same time, I had to keep switching between one and the other. My mouth was dry and my stomach was tight. I was sure I'd get caught.
When the keypad chimed and the lock thumped open I was so wound up that I jumped a foot in the air. It took me a second to realize what I'd done. But when I did, I was – I hate to say it – proud of myself.
October 20th, 2043
"It's the Bat!" one of the Jokerz yelled just before I knocked him down on the cobbled path. The others dropped their swag bags and pulled weapons. One had a chain, one had an electric shock prod, and two had pistols. I jumped off the first Joker, who was too stunned to get up again, and did a couple handsprings to avoid getting hit by the two who were shooting guns. The guys with the chain and the prod didn't chase me – they didn't want to get close.
I dodged behind a pillar and fired a couple of small batarangs to disarm the dregs with the pistols. One of them hit, sending the pistol spinning away across the path. The other missed. The polka-dot-coated Joker who'd lost his pistol went running for it, but I downed him with a bolero before he could get there. As he was falling over I ran out from behind the pillar and wove my way toward the other gun-wielding clown. He was shooting with the gun held sideways, like they sometimes do in gangster movies, and his aim wasn't too good. I jumped up in the air and took him down with a foot in the jaw. Then I kicked his pistol up and away so the remaining two Jokerz, who were running at me, couldn't pick it up and use it.
One of the guys swung his chain at me. I caught it in my hand – which would have hurt if I hadn't had the suit – and used it to pull him toward me so I could chop him in the temple. He went down like an axed tree. "Nice move," Wayne said. I was glad to hear it, since I don't get a lot of compliments from the old man. Then I turned around to get the one with the prod.
He turned out to have some actual fighting skills. My first two punches didn't connect. I kicked him but only managed a glancing blow. And when my guard was open, he stuck me with the prod. The suit protects me from a lot of things, but since it's got all that circuitry it doesn't deal with electricity too well. I bit back a scream as the suit's systems locked up and my nerves burned with the current. Next thing I knew I was belly-up on the ground, the visual readout in my cowl flickering. The Joker was grinning and holding up the prod, preparing to use it like a club. I just managed to roll out of the way before he brought it down.
A jab in the back of the knee made him collapse, cursing in pain. I climbed on top of him and wrestled the prod out of his hand so I could throw it away. Then I whacked him in the back of the head, putting him down for the count.
I looked up to see the Joker with the polka-dot coat going for his lost gun – he'd freed himself from the bolero and was trying to get it before I noticed. Of course I jumped him before he could pick up the pistol again and dragged him back over to his KO'd buddies.
I was tying the Jokerz up for the police when I heard a noise behind me. When I looked around I saw someone dart out of the electronics store and try to make a break for it. Twip wasn't even smart enough to use the back door, I thought. He lost his balance and fell over trying to round a corner. I was able to tackle him just as he got up again. Since I'd been acting more or less on instinct, I didn't really see him until I caught him. When he was running, he was just another Joker.
But when I pulled him up by the front of his shirt, he became something else. He was a very frightened boy, and he couldn't have been more than thirteen years old.
June 12th, 2040
I pulled open the gate and let the other guys in. They smiled at me as they slipped into the yard, which made me feel cool – until then, I'd just been a little kid to them, but now I was really part of the gang. Charlie, who came in last, gave me a thumbs up. "Nice work, T-T," he whispered as we went to join the other guys on the front porch.
Seth, the leader of our group, used a glass cutter to get through one of the window panes and a suction cup to take the cut part out quietly. When he was done, he reached in and flipped the latch that kept it locked, took his hand back out, and pushed the lower half upward to get it open. He climbed in legs-first and then ducked all the way through into Mrs. Comstock's living room. Even though I was feeling hyper – too much adrenaline, I guess – I waited until everyone else had gone through the window before going in myself. I was halfway in when I saw a framed picture on a table by the window.
The moonlight shining into the room was just bright enough to let me see it. It was a photograph of a little girl in a summer dress sitting on a carousel horse, smiling and waving at the camera. She was probably old lady Comstock's granddaughter. I suddenly felt sick. What the hell was I doing there, stealing from somebody's grandmother?
October 20th, 2043
The boy's clown makeup was pretty basic, just a white face with red around the mouth and a foam nose. He had on a red and green jester's hat. When I see those things on most people it raises a red flag. But on this skinny, shuddering, wide-eyed kid, it didn't look anything except pathetic. I felt ashamed of myself.
"P-please, please don't h-h-hurt me! I-I'll go qu-quietly!" he pleaded. I've heard those words before, but usually from thugs who'd just tried to kill me and lost their nerve. Never from a kid who was still in middle school. He started sobbing so hard he could barely breathe.
This had never happened to me before. I wanted Wayne to tell me what to do, or at least give me a hint. But he didn't say anything. I realized that I knew what he wanted me to do. It was something he would have done without a second thought, back in the old days.
I heard police sirens in the distance, heading in my direction. The kid started sobbing even harder. Whatever I was going to do, I'd have to do it fast. I made my decision.
He fell in a heap when I let go of his shirt, then raised his head and looked up at me like he was expecting me to kill him. "Go," I said quietly. "Get out of here."
"Terry, what are you doing?" Wayne asked me. He was too surprised to be angry yet. I knew that would change real fast.
The kid blinked up at me like he didn't understand what I was saying. "I said go!" I repeated, shouting this time. "Go home!"
"McGinnis!" Wayne snapped, almost loud enough to make my ears hurt. I could imagine the expression on his face then, and the way he'd look at me when I got back. Even thinking about it scared me. I was probably in for a thorough chewing-out, followed by a lecture. If he was really pissed at me I'd get a cold silence.
The boy got up, watching me carefully to make sure I wasn't about to jump on him. He stood there like a deer in headlights for a few seconds. Then he turned around and started running.
For what seemed like a long time I just stood there, waiting for the storm to hit. It didn't happen the way I expected. "Terry," Wayne said, in a voice cold enough to chill my insides, "Get back here. Right now."
June 12th, 2040
Charlie talked me into climbing all the way in through the window. I went around the house, searching for loot like the rest of the guys, but I was on autopilot the whole time, trying not to think about what I was doing. Stealing from somebody's grandmother. The other guys were eagerly roaming around the house and grabbing everything they could find and shoving it into their backpacks. I stuffed some jewellery in my pockets, even though I didn't want to touch it. All I wanted was to get out and never do anything like this ever again. I learned exactly what it meant to hate myself.
Finally the guys had gotten all they could carry and decided it was time to leave. We went out the same way we had come in and headed for the gate. Charlie was already talking to the other guys about another place that might be good for a hit. Listening to him made me want to throw up. Didn't he see the picture?
None of us noticed the car that was now parked on the street in front of the gate until a blinding spotlight hit us from its back passenger window.
"Freeze! You're under arrest!" came a megaphone-powered voice from the direction of the car. Maybe we'd tripped a silent alarm, or maybe one of the neighbors had seen us sneaking in. It didn't matter - busted was busted. Nobody was dumb enough to put up a fight or make a break for it. We all just put up our hands.
I didn't feel scared. Come to think of it, I didn't feel anything at all.
Some cops with laser rifles jogged into the yard and kept them trained on us. A couple of others searched us – they took all our loot, tools and pocketknives, if we had any – then put the cuffs on and read us our rights. They pushed us toward a couple of squad cars waiting on the street outside. There were people standing in the lighted windows of the other houses on the street, watching as we were taken away. I felt like they were all staring right at me.
The police put me in the back of a squad car with Charlie. For once he didn't have anything to say. He just stared out the window with a blank face.
Then I realized that I'd just hit the lowest point I'd ever been in my life and hadn't even gotten to rock-bottom yet. I put my head in my chained hands and cried like a baby all the way to the police station.
October 20th, 2043
Last night, for the first time since I started being Batman, Wayne and I didn't agree on what was right. Not the right way to do things, which we argue over anyway, but what was morally right. We used to be sure we agreed on that. Wayne gave me a lecture – without the chewing-out I expected, which surprised me – but I said something really stupid (of course) and upped it all the way to a cold silence. Then I made it worse by storming out and not saying I was sorry. I'm not sure whether the old man will take me back after this.
The thing I keep asking myself is, if I could live last night over, would I do the same thing?
I wish I knew.