Hey Kim, JuhFreak and baby-bulma! Thanks for the feedback! And Kim--I hope you weren't expecting too much. I'm pretty lousy at action parts so the 'plan' probably isn't as good as what you could imagine. Hope you enjoy it anyway:) Also, this update is short because the final section of the story isn't quite finished.
Sketchy plans were finalized.
Max had a quiet aside with Bruce who went over possible scenarios of what she could expect to deal with. He figured there were six guards plus Darven left and that they, for comforts sake, would most likely have stayed in pairs and be scattered haphazardly anywhere outside this room. He stressed again that their ignorance and the arrogant blind luck that let them get this far made them dangerous because they were unpredictable. For this reason, despite his vast experience, he couldn't give her specific instructions.
He did give her a smattering of eye-opening advice that she could use and lastly suggested she take along the supply of gas pellets from the suit and use them as a distraction so she could get close enough to take her opponents out easily. Nodding agreement she rose to fulfill the task. Bruce's hand on her arm made her sit back down. The commanding intensity of blue eyes in the wizened face grabbed and held her complete attention.
"I've seen you working out with Terry," he said, his gravelly voice softened for her ears only. His measured words were instructional, not harsh. "Your moves are choppy. They're choppy because you hesitate. You hesitate because you're afraid. Don't let that happen this time Max. A lot of lives are depending on you to be strong and sure of yourself. If you don't trust yourself to succeed--it won't happen. And I know you have what it takes to succeed."
Max blinked after a stunned moment. "Yes sir," she murmured.
He had never spoken to her like that. This someone who she respected above anyone she had ever known had just told her he believed she was as capable as she wanted to be and just needed to be reminded of it. At least that's how she interpreted it. But what did he mean--she was afraid?
Knowing that Terry would make the task difficult, Barbara went along with Max to get the pellets from the utility belt. The older woman blocked the entrance to keep prying eyes away while Max knelt beside an alert and tensed Terry. He had overheard some of what they were planning and was not happy about it.
"We need a few things from the suit," she said patiently, steeling herself for the expected refusal. "Hand it over please."
"You're crazy," he muttered to Max, then looked up at Barbara. "I can't believe you're going to let her do this."
Barbara adjusted her glasses and peered down at him with a long-suffering look, "The longer this situation continues, the poorer the outcome. I believe she has a very good chance of succeeding."
"And what if she doesn't?" He began to elbow himself up, but Max pushed him back easily.
"Lay still," she ordered and reached over to pull the suit from beneath him. He clamped a hand on it to halt it, his expression determined.
"I'm okay Max. Let me do this."
"No you're not. And this time it's my turn." Her dark eyes pleaded with him to understand. She wanted to prove to herself she could do this.
A span of seconds passed before Terry's body relaxed, his grip releasing the suit. He frowned, saying gruffly, "Better use a soft touch with the Flash/Bang pellets. They trigger a lot easier than the others."
"I will," Max grinned and finished pulling the suit to her.
Since it was part of her back-up duties to help keep the batsuit's arsenal stocked, she was deft at emptying the compartments containing the different pellets and the darts. She stuffed them all into the small hand-bag Barbara had given her to use and tied it around her waist. Mentally geared for the task ahead and wanting to move on to it while she had the courage, Max rose quickly to go. Sharply spoken words from Terry made her stop and turn.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" He held up a squared clip he had pulled from the utility belt. "Gas mask. You're going to need it."
She took it from his outstretched hand, "Thanks. I should have thought of that."
"Yeah, you should have," he chided.
Surprised by his attitude, Max waited for him to soften the reproach with a teasing grin. Instead he heaped on more negative.
"Hit those guys hard enough the first time Max then you won't have to hit them again. You know what I mean," he smirked. "Don't go using those girly hits you use on me when we're sparring. They're not going to get you very far."
Again she waited for a sign that she shouldn't take his criticisms seriously, but none came. Pushing back hurt she shrugged indifference, "I'll see what I can do about that."
Not wanting to hear any more snide comments he might want to make she left the little room, brushing roughly against Barbara in her hurry to escape. Damn men! She'd never understand them. First Bruce--the last person she expected to get encouragement from--blows her away with an admission of faith in her abilities . Then Terry--the one person in the world she thought would always be on her side--manages to shatter her ego right when she needed it the most. To hell with them both! She had a job to do.
Regaining her balance, Barbara gazed critically down at Terry, "What was that for?"
He replied looking suddenly miserable, "She fights better when she's angry."
Despite Scarlet and two other male hostage's insistence that they could help, it was decided Max would go out alone to deal with the criminals outside the room. Barbara, using her professional manner and authority as police commissioner, convinced them all that Max had some experience with this type of danger and would work better on her own.
When everything was ready the adventure began with an award-winning performance by Scarlet that lured the two outside guards into the room and held them in rapt attention while Barbara and Max moved in close. They subdued both men simultaneously with the fast-acting sleeping darts, afterwards having to explain to the curious hostages that they were items used by the police which Barbara happened to have with her.
With quiet wishes of good luck and encouragement from the other hostages ringing in her ears Max slipped stealthily from the room.
Now twenty minutes later, here she was, staring open-mouthed at the barrel of the weapon pointed in her face, her thoughts of accomplishment suddenly turned to defeat.
She'd come so far! And it hadn't been easy. Her heart was pounding and her chest heaving from recent exertions. Her body throbbed with all the hits it had taken and blows given. Her eyes and throat burned from the gas they were exposed to when her mask had been knocked off in one fight.
After all that she was left facing the incensed head honcho, Piggy Darven, himself. She didn't know if he was made of tougher stuff than his helpers or if the emotion that fired this revenge of his gave him abnormal strength? Hitting him with everything she used on the others didn't stop him. It only made him angrier.
Damn! After everything she had suffered through it would have been all right and fair to see a happy ending here. It had finally been her turn to play hero and she was going to blow it!
Max fought tears of frustration.
Stay calm girl. No time for self-pity or panic. Think. Think. That's what you're best at remember? Too bad the battered and snarling Pig Darven wasn't going to give her the time. His gun hand was up and aimed in her direction and unfortunately the weapon was charged and ready to fire.
A sudden insight came as to what Bruce meant about her being afraid. She should have hit Darven harder and not have worried about causing him permanent damage. This was the real thing. Not a sparring lesson!
Now she was going to die and all of Bruce and Terry's beliefs that she couldn't handle this type of role would be true .
No!
No way was she going to give those two the satisfaction of being right about her! She'd never be able to live it down. Especially if she was dead.
Max let out a snort of amusement at her own mocking humor. Suddenly she wasn't scared anymore, a grim, devil-may-care attitude filling her with an empowering strength.
The wild shift of emotion had an impact on her thoughts as well. Her eyes took in the scene with new sight and a slew of hidden options' besides leaping out of his line of fire, became abruptly clear. One practically shouted at her. That gigantic crystal chandelier hanging motionless twenty feet directly over the baddy's head was ripe for the picking. It could be a satisfying slapstick moment. Now if only she had brought along one of those handy batarangs….
She gaped in silent surprise as one of the black, bat shaped devices hurtled out of thin air from the opposite side of the room. A barely audible whirring sound trailed its path upwards to where it neatly sliced the chandelier's connection to the ceiling.
As if happening in slow motion, Max watched her adversary's expression, reflecting his superior position, gradually change to horror. The sudden absence of light from the severed chandelier made him glance up. He raised his gun arm to cover his face while the huge light fixture fell soundlessly on his head, its weight crumpling his body to the floor. The shrill tingling of hundreds of crystal ornaments faded away quickly to silence.
Max jolted herself into action, hurrying to fetch the weapon that had clattered away from the lax hand. She cast her gaze around furtively, wondering who would respond to all the noise and where the cloaked Batman was now. An unexpected voice from behind made Max gasp and jump even though a split second later she had recognized it. She turned in time to see Batman's black-covered form appear out of empty space.
"Sorry," he said. "You all right?"
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, the agitated waving of her gun hand making him duck one way then the other to stay out of her line of fire.
"I think that's obvious." Batman's arm snaked out suddenly to grab the roving gun and cautiously pull it from her unresisting hand. He deactivated it and tossed it aside.
"I had things under control." Max flared, hands settling on hips. "I didn't need your help."
"Oh, my mistake." Batman's deep tone dripped with sarcasm. "I didn't know you were fulfilling a death wish."
"I don't ha--" Max forgot her anger, eyes going wide in surprise.
"Hey," The sick expression on her face kicked Batman's worry up a notch. "You okay?"
"Don't look now, but…" Max swallowed, her gaze fixed behind him. "An old friend of yours has decided to join the party."
"Hey maaaan!"
Terry froze at the familiar voice shouting out across the disarrayed ballroom. 'God, please. Let it not be him. Not now.'
"Batman old buddy! Still working on the side of bogus bureaucratic authority?"
Slowly, Batman turned to see the heavily muscled and armed psycho known as Mad Stan standing near the entrance. He had a broad grin on his big square face and a loaded bazooka cradled lovingly in his arms.