Despite their bumbling approach, the inept terrorists managed to escape security and were holed up in an inner room of the mansion with certain influential people as hostages. The rich,--Bruce Wayne (who let himself get caught) and a few varied couples from the upper crust of society ; the important-- Commissioner Barbara Gordon and newly elected Mayor Reads and his wife; the attention-getters-- a famous tenor, a popular actress and her date, a best-selling author and a mixed bag of others--mansion employees, a member of the press and varied invited guests that got swept up in all the confusion.
At the moment they were left alone while their captors secured all entries near the room.
Some of the hostages were physically untouched, some were battered, one seriously injured. All were experiencing anxiety of different degrees. Barbara took charge. She had Bruce stay beside and monitor the wounded man's condition. Then with Mayor Reads and Maxine's help she went about to each person to calm them and assess their condition. They were tending to the more traumatized of the group when a loud protesting voice outside the room diverted their attention.
Maxine recognized it as Terry's. His incessant berating was so unlike him that she knew he was putting on an act. Even from the closed off room his words came through clearly,
"This is an outrage. You're not going to get away with this. Gotham City has laws you know and the force to back them up. You can't do this to me! I'm one of Mr. Wayne's main assistants. He doesn't take well to his people being manhandled like this. And believe me--you don't want to get on his bad side. Hey. Be careful. What are you trying to do? Pull my arm out of its socket? This is an outrage!"
The door burst open and she saw him being dragged inside by two of the black-covered intruders, his arms protectively clutching a briefcase tight against his chest. She saw his gaze dart around the room and meet hers for a split second before moving on. The guards loosened their hold on his arms.
The taller of the two guards suddenly snatched the briefcase from his arms before he could react. At least that's what it looked like to the average observer. Max knew Terry's reflexes were better than average and he could easily have put up a fight for the case. This was just more of his act. She also assumed his shout of objection, lunge to grab the case back and letting the guard plant a fist in his midsection was for show as well.
Max winced in empathy as he doubled over without a sound and sank to the floor. She had a strong feeling he didn't have to fake this part. That blow must have irritated the wound no one could see beneath his buttoned dress coat. A glance at Bruce and Barbara revealed expressionless faces as they watched. The other hostages looked uncertain and fearful.
The tall guard studied the briefcase with an amused grin. "So what kind of treasure you got stashed in here?"
Max was one of only a few people who knew what was hidden within that slim briefcase. It opened immediately to the man's touch. A sour look crossed his features as he dumped the contents: a personal computer with the WayneTech emblem embossed on the cover, varied thicknesses of bound papers and some single sheets that followed in a gentle float, a neatly folded white dress shirt, a pair of black socks, two comic books and a package of beef jerky. The guard shook the case, waiting for more to fall out. He turned it around to peer inside closely then tossed it atop Terry with a disgusted snort.
He gestured for his fellow guard to leave. Stepping over the fallen Terry towards the door he paused to pick up the jerky. He did a double take at the comics, grinned and grabbed one, "Hee, hee. Batman. I used to read him a lot when I was a kid."
The other guard growled and slapped the book from his hand. "Come on."
The firm thud of the door closing sounded loud in the silent room. Terry stirred from his curled position as Max hurried to his side.
"Uh… Glad he didn't take it. Didn't have a chance to read that one yet."
"Lucky you." Max muttered patiently. "I'm assuming you got sidetracked and this isn't part of your plan?"
"Barely made it to the case." He had kept getting side-tracked directing panicky patrons to escape routes. "Couldn't get away to make the change."
"Too bad. Now let me check that wound."
He blocked her reaching hand and rose gingerly, favoring the sore midsection. "It's okay."
As she helped him up, a young buxom woman suddenly appeared at Terry's other side to help.
Terry's eyes were immediately drawn to her obvious female assets. At such close proximity they overwhelmed his vision, momentarily letting him forget any pain he had been feeling. His thoughts marveled that a man could, literally, get lost in cleavage like that.
Max was staring too--at the face she had seen many times in movies and in numerous vid-mags. Scarlet Peowne, popular actress and aspiring singer. She wondered why she hadn't noticed the woman sooner. Terry was clearly smitten with her--or--a part of her anyway. What the--? Was that drool coming out of the corner of his mouth?
"Oh my--" The movie star's red lips stretched into a grimace. Her mascara laden lashes whipped across green eyes that looked down at the floor then up at Terry while the honey-smooth voice conveyed real concern, "Did you know you're dripping blood?"
"Huh?" Terry raised his eyes, dumbly aware that it was rude to stare and that he needed to refocus his mind if he wanted to understand what she was saying.
She met his eyes and with veiled amusement and enunciated her words slowly, "You're bleeding Mr. McGinnis."
Hey, she knew his name. "Oh, that's… it's nothing really." How did she make her mouth move like that? Never knew lips could look so--sexy. "And, ah…I don't think we've met, but, ah…you can call me Terry."
Max rolled her eyes and bit her tongue to keep from laughing at Terry's schoolboy reaction to the woman. She'd thought after all his experiences in the last couple years that he'd have developed better control to this type of reaction. After all, Scarlet Peowne was not the first voluptuous woman he'd ever interacted with. It was probably just the wound making him light-headed and not thinking clearly.
Suddenly the room door opened again. In walked the two guards who were now, respectfully, flanking a third man. The leader was middle-aged, moderate height and of a solid build. His eyes were bloodshot and the bristle of a three day old beard dotted his jowly face. He halted in front of the group.
"My name is Wallace Darven. People who know me, call me Pig. I want all of you to understand that if you cooperate by keeping quiet and staying in this room none of you will get hurt…unless I don't get my demands filled. Then some of you may have to die."
Mayor Reads came forward to meet the assumed mastermind of this group of ill-begotten terrorists. "What is the meaning of all this Mr. Darven?"
"I already explained my beef to the media outside. It's all recorded so you can watch it like everyone else on the news."
"So all this unnecessary violence is a protest of some sort?"
"It's one way of getting attention, yeah."
"If you're serious about what you just told us then you should know there's one person here who needs medical help." Reads gestured to one side of the room where Bruce sat beside the blanketed form.
Pig Darven walked over and stared down at the suffering man who squirmed and moaned softly from the pain he was in. "Oh yeah, I see what you mean. That's too bad."
Pig turned away and headed towards the door.
"This man needs professional medical assistance," Bruce spoke up. "Now." The crisp authority in his calm voice demanding enough to not only make the man stop in his tracks, but had everyone else in the room staring at the--until now--unassuming elderly man.
Pivoting on his heel, Darven stared at Bruce without malice.
"I hear you mister rich man. He'll get help, but not until I get a little satisfaction that my own problem is being handled."
Barbara moved to stand beside the Mayor, "He'll die without immediate help and you'll be adding murder to your growing list of crimes."
Pig offed her words with a disgusted wave of his hand, "When my business was dying who helped me? Huh? When I wrote letters and made phone calls who heard my plea for help and answered? When my life's work was being taken from me little by little each year who in this lousy city cared?"
"What type of business were you in?" Reads asked.
He puffed out his chest in pride, "I was the owner of a fine restaurant on the east side--" Then he sagged in defeat. "Until all your stink'in city taxes and laws finally wiped out the last of my profits. Now I don't own nothing. Not even a roof over me and my family's heads."
Sympathy hung in Reads reply, "I'm sorry for your loss Mr. Darven, but what you've done here will not help solve your problems. End this now and I'll make sure the authorities will go as easy as possible on you. I'm sure Commissioner Gordon will back me on this."
Barbara nodded, "I'll do everything in my power to insure you receive fair and impartial treatment."
Clearly unimpressed, Darven let out a disgusted noise before he and his men left the room.
A numbed drowsiness settled over the occupants. All found relatively comfortable positions and tried to sleep.
A soft sound woke Maxine from her light doze. Her gaze searched the quiet room and saw a shadowed figure moving along the north wall. Squinting, she identified it as Terry and watched him slip soundlessly into the small dressing room, briefcase in hand.
She rose quickly to follow remembering Bruce's suggestion to keep an eye on Terry because he'd probably try putting the suit on despite a direct order not to do it. The dynamics of the suit's strength enhancement naturally increased stress on the wearer's body and Terry's was already weakened by the wound which stopped bleeding only if he laid completely still.
Max parted the bulky curtain to see him leaning heavily over the case that was set on the countertop. His head came up sharply at sight of her. She frowned and murmured,
"You're not going to do what I think you're going to do--are you?"
His expression indicated annoyance before he pressed fingertips against a recessed spot on the case. A hidden tray magically popped out with the batsuit tucked inside. Wearily Terry pulled it out and the tray vanished from sight. Looking expectantly at Max he said,
"I'd like a little privacy if you don't mind." When she didn't move and a stern look appeared on her face he waggled a brow and added suggestively, "Unless you really want to watch."
Max wondered who he was trying to kid. His voice lacked strength and his complexion was ghostly pale in the dim light. She remained standing at the curtained entrance, hands on hips, legs planted wide and spoke her amused challenge softly so as not to attract attention. They didn't need an audience.
"I think I will. And if you can get it on in your usual amount of time without wincing I'll gladly move aside."
"Come on Max," his protest was almost a sigh and his head drooped as if talking was a major effort. "I can't just lay there while somebody else dies."
"Nobody else is going to die. Bruce and Barbara have a plan."
Well, it wasn't really much of a plan. Just Bruce saying these thugs were idiots and Barbara agreeing and adding the fact that that mentality made them unpredictable and dangerous. They also both agreed that Max was the healthiest and most capable of hostages present and with the right plan could manage to help the situation somehow.
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Because you're not going to be a part of it."
Terry studied her, his thoughts racing to a logical conclusion, "I imagine you're going to have a starring role in this plan?"
Max's expression became mutinous at his voiced skeptisim, "Maybe."
He continued to eye her a moment longer then gave his head a dismissive shake. "Our chances are better doing it my way," he scoffed bluntly and began preperation to don the suit. Max's next solemn words stopped him cold.
"I thought you had faith in me."
Terry closed his eyes and leaned over the case, "I don't want to waste energy arguing this with you Max."
"Fine," she murmured, immediately relaxing her stance. No matter how hurt she was by his attitude, laying a guilt trip on him was not going to help anything. "Do it the way you want."
He straightened, ignoring pain the movement triggered, and turned an apologetic face to her, "I do believe in your abilities, but this situation calls for experience."
"And you don't think the original Batman and Batgirl are loaded with it?" Her dark eyes flashed anger, but her voice remained soft. "This is their plan--not mine. They think I can do it."
"I just--"
Recalling how reluctant Bruce had been to involve Max in the past, Terry considered this plan, whatever it was, could only be a desperate measure. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he wasn't thinking straight right now. Maybe he really didn't have faith in her, but one dreaded thought he couldn't escape.
"I don't want you to get hurt."
'Killed' was the word he was thinking. He had adjusted to her in the back-up role. A much more practical and safer place for her than fighting at Batman's side. The years in action had finally convinced him that Bruce was right. It was dangerous enough keeping his own hide out of the proverbial fire. Constantly worrying about a partner would negate his own effectiveness. The few times she had gotten in on the action for one reason or another had reinforced the belief.
He and Max had debated the point many times. Bruce never joined in anymore since Terry had come completely over to his side. Max always remained calm while pointing out the advantages of having someone (with the proper training) watching his back while out in the 'field'. He couldn't refute her logic, but he could argue just as logically why she would always be more valuable at her position in the cave. And now he was supposed to be okay with her taking on a bunch of armed loonies all alone? Not while he was…able… to…
Sudden weakness made his limbs tremble. His hearing began to ring and perhipheral vision darkened. He felt himself falling. Vague awareness came of slim muscular arms wrapping around him and soft breasts pressed against his back. He couldn't suppress a moan of frustration at getting Max in these compromising positions and not being able to do anything about them. His nostrils flared and filled with her pleasant scent even as consciousness left him.
Max grunted as she struggled to ease Terry's descent to the floor. The landing was awkward, but quiet. Her legs were now straddling his limp form, his head cushioned between her breasts. Funny how his grip had remained tight on the suit, bringing it down with him as he fainted. If anyone walked in on them now, there'd be an awful lot of explaining to do.
As if her thought was a premonition, a dark figure suddenly drew the curtain aside and filled the doorway. Eyes wide, Max held her breath until dim lighting revealed a familiar face…and released it silently as the Commissioner moved into the little room.
"Guess we should have tied him up," Barbara remarked, vexation twisting her lips.
"Yeah, it might have slowed him down some."
Terry stirred and let out a weak groan, "Max?" His head moved slightly where it nestled against Max's breast.
"Easy Terr. Just rest for a minute."
"Hmmm…" Eyes unopened, he burrowed the side of his face deeper into it's resting place, a drowsy grin of pleasure appearing. "'kay. If you say so."
Max could feel her face heating at the sensation Terry's 'innocent' actions were triggering in her body. Knowing that Barbara couldn't possibly know what she was thinking or feeling, she was still embarrassed. A guilty glance up showed the much older woman wore an expression of patient amusement.
"I was young once you know." Barb smiled and lowered herself, hands reaching out to examine Terry's wound. The makeshift bandages were soaked through. Lifting them slightly to peek beneath allowed fresh blood to flow. She frowned and gently pressed the pads back into place. "He's got to stop moving around. Bruce suggested we pull a tranquilizer dart from the utility belt and use it on him if we have to."
Max nodded enthusiastically to the idea, "Good one." A sudden thought occurred to her, "Hey, why couldn't we use something like that on the guards?"
Barbara's brow furrowed as she considered it. "We'd have to get close enough to jab it in by hand. It might work if there was only one guard, but getting them both at the same time… I don't know."
"I'm sure we can come up with some kind of distraction. Draw them both into the middle of the room somehow, hold their attention while one of us drifts around behind so we can attack them together. Wait a minute-- Why didn't we think of this before? There are other things we could use from the belt. Gas pellets, the detachable aerosol sprays and--"
"And how will we explain away all those little gadgets after the fact?"
"I don't know. Is that important when so many lives are at stake?"
Looking pained, Barbara released an audible sigh, "Let me run it by Bruce. In the meantime, hide the suit and do whatever you have to too keep him quiet. If we're going to make a move, we need to do it soon."
Max nodded as the Commissioner slipped soundlessly from the room. She turned her attention to Terry and reached for the suit still clutched in his hand. Tranquilizing him was the best option at the moment and it would be a good opportunity to find out how much pressure it would take to get the dart to penetrate by hand instead of the way it was usually propelled with the suit's mechanisms.
She tugged to pull the suit towards her, but met resistance. Terry was awake and hanging on tight to it. When he began to sit up Max clamped two arms around his shoulders and pulled him back against her. "Don't move."
"You're not drugging me," he declared feebly, undecided whether he should be angry about her misguided worry or happy that he was still comfortably close to her.
"I won't if you agree to stop moving around."
His reply was slow in coming, "Okay." He'd stay still--for now.
Max made a noise of disbelief and slid herself out from behind him. Obediently he stayed where he was laying, watching her warily as she knelt at his side and stared down at him with the air of a queen lording it over her lowliest subject.
"Promise," she commanded.
He frowned. She was acting strange and he didn't like it, but he didn't have strength at the moment to get up and prove to her he didn't need coddling. His reply was sullen, "I promise."
"I don't believe you," she said after studying him through suspicious eyes. "Swear it on your father's memory."
"Max--" he husked in exasperation. She was really getting annoying.
"Swear it!" she murmured fiercely into his surprised face. "Or you're going to feel what it's like getting jabbed by one of your own darts."
"Okay, okay," Terry held up a hand in entreaty and flattened himself tighter to the floor wanting to escape her uncharacteristic vehemence. "What is with you anyway?"
"You and your stupidity," she snapped the hushed rebuke. "Haven't you figured it out yet?"
"Figured what?
"That you are--not--invincible."
His confused expression evolved slowly into a warm grin, "Aww…Max. You really do care about m--"
"Shut up," she hissed. "And if you move and start bleeding again, I'm going to kill you myself."
Chagrined into complete silence, Terry watched with furtive eyes as she stood and left the room. A wound like this would never have stopped Bruce way back when. He had no intentions of letting it stop him either--well, not any more than it already had. Tucking the suit beneath him to hide it, Terry waited for the right time to resume his alter ego.