FACE OFF

Chapter 2: Pretty / Ugly

Tada! Chapter 2! Please review! It's not a waste of time. But this is a pointless rhyme.

Veronica was typing as Murray entered. Martin Murray was a young attractive reporter with a nice tan and dark hair. He put the coffee on her desk. "So what happened at the Vreeland Memorial Art thing?"

"Hostages, Public Property Damage and the Caped crusaders...that boy wonder really is a boy wonder if the suits anything to go by...but Batman was..." she smiled to herself and showed the pictures to Murray.

"And they're supposed to affect me how?"

"Well you know" she sighed. "Just trying to confirm if you really are seeing that cute Asian artist guy from that cosmetics art contract we covered...so? Are you?"

Murray looked at her. "Rumours, rumours, rumours, when did we stop dealing in the facts?" he grinned. "You're trying to be an investigative journalist...investigate."

Veronica laughed as Murray walked away.

Terry sat up, sweating, his nightmares had gotten to him again...he couldn't breath sometimes they smothered him so much. He swung out of the bed and pulled a T-shirt on. He opened the door slowly and stepped out of the bedroom, avoiding the creaking floorboards he'd memorized by heart...he descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. Sitting in the early morning light was Chris.

He was dressed in green pyjama trousers and an open white shirt. "Hey" he said.

"Hi Chris" terry said. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Don't very often" shrugged Chris. "And when I do I never dream... Orange juice?" he offered the carton to Terry who took a glass from the cupboard and filled it.

"S-o-o" Terry ventured. "What's happening?"

"Not much" Chris said. "Reading a print-off on Masque...and yes it IS disturbing. He randomly murders people, even the profilers can't peg his actions down to anything other then a coin toss...and that's exactly what it is might I add."

Terry paused; he could see the blue of the genetic burns on Chris's shoulder. Chris self-consciously pulled the shirt up on his shoulder properly. "We're not going to have an easy time with this" Chris said stiffly.

"So you were beaten and humiliated?" whispered Max with a laugh. The laugh continued- - she actually had to lean against the wall of the library to steady herself. Terry rubbed his face as he searched for the books he'd come to get.

"No, we still averted disaster" he replied casually.

"Yeah—but he got away" she pointed out calmly. She took one of the books he'd balanced on a knee. "Dream Decryption? A guide to understanding the symbols of dreams? What the hell?" she muttered.

"I—I've been having bad dreams" Terry admitted.

"About what?" Max asked, as they sat at a table.

"My dad...I dream I'm there when he's killed and I can't help him and other times I dream—a-a-ab-about Erika and watching her d-die and...sometimes" he drew a shuddering breath. "Sometimes I'm the one that kills them"

Max swung around the table and kneeled beside him. "Oh...Oh Terry no. You didn't kill either of them. You probably couldn't have saved your dad...and Erika—Erika is better off with the peace of death then the torment of the madness inflicted on her. She was falling into the darkness you are always slightly in...she wasn't someone you could save..."

"No I could have. What good is being Batman if I can't save the people I love?" he whispered. He wiped his eyes and looked at her. "I'm a failure and if I hadn't done things wrong...they'd both be alive...it's my fault they're dead!"

His voice came out in a whisper next. "I killed them..."

Warehouse 22-22 was on the docks, a dull building you'd never look twice at. Unless you were one of Masque's goons. In which case it was home. The lower floor was on one side a luxurious casino like lounge with wide-screens and relaxing settings. The other side was a nightclub-esque dance floor and ever so slightly dungeon-like. Flashing floor panels and go-go cages.

The upper floor (reached by a pair of large stone staircases at the end of the room that pointed in opposite directions, one draped with a black banner emblazoned with a golden sun and the other white with a silver moon) was stranger still.

The left side on your entrance was brightly lit with white everywhere and frills and soft things to be seen on all sides...the right was dark and dank with harsh spikes and leathers.

In the dead centre, just between both lines was a chair. On it sat a disgruntled looking Masque. His consorts frolicked over. "Gee boss you look down...can I get you tea?"

"He wants coffee!" snarled the other.

"Nice...Tea. Naughty...coffee" he snapped. "Irrelevant" he stated.

The girls sighed and sat onto an arm of his chair each. Nice was platinum blonde; she wore ribbons on gold rings in her hair, which was styled into ringlets. Her top was soft lace and off the shoulder, her skirt was pearl studded silk embroidered with white roses and hemmed with silver. A lace wrap around her waist shimmered with a dousing of sequins and she wore a pair of frilly white sandal high heels and carried a small white fluffy puppy with a ribbon in its hair and around its neck. Her bands of pearls around her neck and diamond bracelets and rings were all for her expensive taste.

Naught was raven-haired; the untamed main laced with dark braids falling to her shoulder blades. She wore a black corset and leather skirt with garters attached to her eight inch heeled boots that were slit down the back to reveal dark tights. Her blood red lips pursed and she pouted running a long black opera-glove covered hand along his cheek, the spiked wrist bands grazed his bare chin as she stroked the moon on his mask. She also wore a dog collar and was decked out in gold and rubies. "Poor baby" she pouted. Her black cat hissed from its laze on the table.

"Yeah boss...what did those mean old brats do to you?" Nice asked cuddling up to her boss. She was coiling her finger in a strand of his white hair playfully. Naught y gave his black strand a tough pull.

"Listen baby" Naughty said. "Pop the princess and her mutt and you and me can make some noise!" She kissed him on the right side of his mouth leaving a red mark.

"Ignore the harlot and her hellcat" mewled Nice. "You and me? We've got it all going for us. Ditch the witch and I'll scratch your itch" She left a glittering pink lipstick mark on the left side of his mouth.

"I have other things on my minds" grated Masque. "The dumb-namic duo ruined my fun yesterday night. I mean how THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO SCREW GOTHAM when they make is to hard?"

Both girls gave an "Awww" and kissed his bare neck. He grimaced and rose. "Girls gather the boys, I have something I want to do," he said. "I need a theft to...UNWIND AFTER SUCH A DAMN CRAPPY NIGHT...please?"

"Since you said please" Nice cooed and sauntered over to the old-fashioned white phone on a vanity table.

"Since you threatened" growled Naughty and sashayed over to her black trucker radio.

Terry crossed the room with Bruce and Chris. Chris drifted with them, he didn't like being near the media, he was admittedly afraid of what they'd do to him if they ever found out about his meta-human heritage...

"Hello Mr Wayne" Joe Rake was the Editor of the Gotham Times. "I'm glad you agreed to an interview. My office is just this way...if your aid and—grandson - " note the squirmed way he forced out Grandson. "- Want to wait out here we can have a tour of the building?"

Chris instantly nodded and moved away. Terry looked at Bruce and understood to follow Chris. "VERONICA! SHOW THESE TWO GENTLEMEN AROUND!"

Veronica strode over from her desk. She was dressed in a denim suit with a turquoise suit. "Hi I'm Veronica Dominium...intern/freelance," she said as she straightened her hair. Terry nodded.

"I'm Terry McGinnis and this is--"

He'd never actually said Chris's name...not fully. It was Chris...but how did he end it? He'd never heard it said in full...

"Christopher, Christopher-Vincent Kyle-Wayne. Chris if you don't mind" he said with a slightly forced smile. Veronica nodded and gave a polite smile.

"The prodigal grandson" she nodded. "At last I meet you. Getting your picture is hard". Chris had died his hair completely black for non-costumed times. Chemicals he applied to his hands revealed the white when he needed it. If he just wore a full mask...

"So I'm supposed to show you two around," she mused.

She led them along a glass-lined corridor. "The Joker blew up the side of the building and we remodelled after that giving it more shine then a floor polishing marathon" she smiled as she pointed to the side of the building plated with glass.

Terry nodded. "Like half the city?"

She gave a light laugh. "More" she said. "You should see the property damage raked in, around Christmas even! That entire fiasco with Catwoman, Zeiss, Cartland and the Orphans!" she noticed the uneasiness in the air as the pair nodded.

Chris looked around and yawned. "Okay, I'm going to the arcade, you two can flirt or whatever...tell Mr Wayne I'll see him later" he shrugged.

Veronica watched him go. "Why did he call Mr Wayne--"

"They're not close..." Terry shrugged. "Chris was only found recently and he and Mr Wayne just—haven't—been – there. If you get my meaning."

"I get it" Veronica nodded. "I was adopted when I was 4, my foster-family was great and I live with them even now. My biological father and mother—they lived in Keystone. I talked to them a while back...met them. They love me, they were young and wanted a good life for me so they gave me up" she shrugged. "We get on but it's not the ideal relationship"

"Sharing I see," Terry said.

"It's no secret, I'd tell anyone. I don't like secrets it's why I want to be a reporter" she replied. "Even if I'm a tour guide most of the time...what are your aspirations?"

"No clue" shrugged Terry. "Just letting it take me where it wishes. Chris doesn't have to worry; he's a freaking genius. Mr Wayne'll give me a glowing résumé for my nearly two years of work...I think I have a chance at a good job. I'll just wait and see."

"Sounds like a plan" Veronica mused.

She smiled. Terry smiled. Spark.

"So...what do you do for fun?" Terry asked.

"I like the movies" she replied simply. "They're always fun to go to. And I like concerts...I like dance clubs and just getting out in the city."

"Well I know a good movie that's on tomorrow night..." Terry said. "If you're going and I'm going then I could go at the same time as you and give you a lift..."

Veronica stopped, turned and faced him. "Why Mr McGinnis...are you asking me out?"

"That is quite definitely what I'm doing," he said. "I never know how long I have with someone so...so I have to act fast and spend some time with them in case they leave..."

His eyes seemed so sad when he spoke...she smiled at him faintly.

"Why not" she said at last. "I don't get asked out by cute boys at work...you do realize I'm 17 right?" Terry nodded. "But only until next month!"

"I turned 18 in November" Terry said. "No worries...so long as you don't have a problem with older guys..."

Veronica flashed a smile and linked his arm. "Oh I don't"

==========================

"Dr Taylor wouldn't break patient-doctor confidentiality," Bruce said as he descended the steps to the bat cave. "We'll have to go without". Selina coughed and put the file down. Bruce approached and leafed through it. "How did you get this?"

"Well I asked nicely," Selina said.

"You broke in didn't you?" Terry said.

"Pot-ay-to, pot-at-oh" Selina shrugged. "The point is that we have the file..."

"You shouldn't have done that Selina..." Bruce said. "What if the good doctor had a tracer on her files in case someone stole them, everyone learned their lesson after the Luthorgate Scandal."

"Don't worry darling Bruce," sighed Selina. "I photo printed them, those are copies"

"It says here," Chris said. "That he had issues with his mother and not being able to be himself...his mother caused pretty much every kind of suppression and repression you can find in a person in him. He was on anti-depressants, which caused up-and-down mood swings that the media interpreted as him being bipolar. His mother played on that to vault him upwards in the world...god that woman was a social gorilla, doing a LOT of climbing...bitch too. Anyway---"

"The police files said his girlfriend filed a missing persons...her name is Andromeda Monroe and she lives in Tyson Heights apartments," Bruce said.

"Andromeda Monroe!" exclaimed Chris. "The super model. She does all the modelling for the Frame Cosmetics Company. She rakes in 2 million a fortnight and is famous for the 27th James Bond Movie because she was the third actress to pull off a successful bikini scene. She's been seen on the arm of some of the most powerful and influ-"

Terry calmly put his hand over Chris's mouth. "Photographic memory training ends for him" he said to Bruce. "He's got it down -oww". Chris had bit his finger and stepped away. "Come on let's go visit her..."

Andromeda sat up in bed, her long straight black-brown hair combed over to one side. She slid off the bed, throwing off the thin sheet. She was dressed in a white silk nightgown that was stopped just above the ground. She pulled on a matching robe that trailed behind her and didn't bother to close it.

"Wade?"

She stepped into the living room of her apartment, it was all in white and crystal, it was actually quite humble...though few humble people had a white grand piano by the sliding doors to a marble fitted balcony.

"Why did you think it would be Wade Masters?" a voice asked. She spun around and punched the shadow in the gut. Batman twitched. "I wasn't surprised by that," he admitted.

"Oh...sorry" Andromeda said.

"S'alright" a voice from behind said. "He's used to girls beating him up..." Robin was leaning against the wall. "We have to ask again, why did you think it was Wade when you woke up?"

Andromeda looked at Robin. "I—I was dreaming about him" she said calmly. "I miss him, can you blame me? I loved...love him."

"To Andy, yours forever" Robin read from the small card attached to the dark red and vibrant white roses. "Nice choice whoever they are"

"I have many admirers," she said calmly. "They send me lots of flowers...some dead, some alive. I appreciate the alive more. What can I do for you—gentlemen?"

"You filed the missing persons report...why didn't his mother?"

"Doreen?" Andy seemed to find this supremely funny. "Don't make me laugh!" she said bitterly after composing herself. "Doreen is a vile toad of a woman who—no I won't say it. I promised Wade."

Robin was over by her phone he lifted it. "Can you call the reception with this?" he asked. Andy frowned and nodded. "Just curious."

"Promised him what?" Batman asked.

"He doesn't like his mother, it's no big secret...just—that's all I'll tell you! Go away!" she snapped ferociously. Terry remained unmoving. "Leave me alone! I've been so worried about Wade for the past six plus months! I don't need you two, who might be the ones who kill him, bugging me!"

"Look, we won't kill him, he needs help and if you talk to us--" Terry began

Andy moved swiftly and pressed the small pistol into his chest. "Wade and I met at a shooting range, he instructed me on how to shoot properly, don't make me show you what I mean."

Chris placed a gloved hand on Terry's shoulder. The pair vanished out the window and off the edge of the balcony. Andy put the pistol back into the small white garter and walked back into the room.

"We didn't get much from her," Terry said as the Batmobile cruised across the sky. "She's hiding a lot...Wade Masters definitely contacted her. Probably frequently."

"We have to tap her phone lines...I don't like to do it. But to catch Masque I'll do what I have to" Bruce said.

"Already done," Chris said. He sounded like he was looking for some kind of commendation.

"Good" Bruce said and shut off the link.

"Why do I bother?" muttered Chris from the Redbird jetting along beside the Batmobile.

The 50-sense Lounge was a Vegas glitz and glamour type place in Lower East End Gotham. Okay, it didn't have the glitz, or the glamour...or anything much in common with Vegas other then the neon and the people throwing money away. It was where The Great Linguini (this moron wasn't from England OR Italy, he was a twerp from Ohio who didn't know what Linguini WAS) and his assistant the lovely Iola were performing.

To exactly 3½ drunk people (One was semi-conscious) and possibly more but most were smoking at the bar. "And now I open the box and the rabbit..." Linguini's press-on curly moustache fell off as the rabbit hopped out and off to the left wing. Iola rolled her eyes and strode off stage as Linguini gave bows to the completely uninterested audience and rushed after her.

"I thought you'd taped the panel properly this time!" snapped Linguini at the girl. The lights clunked off as the people filed out of the building, closing it and leaving them to clean up their equipment.

"I did your timing was off" she replied.

"Oh why would I listen to you? You're just a show girl!" he snapped. "In fact you're an unemployed show-girl! You're fired!"

Iola spun and glared. She had auburn hair and blue eyes and was dressed in a patched up pink showgirl outfit with a headdress that had barely any feathers left in it. She stalked forwards. "You can't fire me! I'm the one holding you up! My father taught you everything! It's not my fault you're a hack who can't do anything right!"

"Shut up and get out. Your father was a hack"

"How dare you!" Iola hissed. "He was a genius!"

Linguini was pot-bellied, in his fifties and totally oblivious to danger it seemed. Iola pulled off her pendant, a teardrop shaped ruby attached to a gold chain. She raised it and held it up at him. The light caught it. "The demon's eye sees all Linguini" Iola said softly as the lights flickered in his eyes, dancing off the ruby. "The demon's eye sees within you Henry Gold and you want to serve it..." she smiled.

Linguini's eyes glazed over. She smiled and led him up the stairs to the catwalk over the stage. "When I snap my fingers you'll believe you're Peter Pan" she said. He nodded. She smiled. "Daddy wasn't a hack" she added, and snapped her fingers. Linguini leapt off the catwalk and screamed, the spell broken---followed by all the bones in his body. "Now for the suicide note" Iola giggled and sashayed off to find a pad and paper.

"The Double Edged Sword, dug up in Italy a few months ago. This is definitely what he's after, too good to pass down especially since this is its second and last day in Gotham" Selina said.

"The museum security is tight" Bruce said. "There – down Ace- there is a chance they won't get through to the sword, but if they do make sure to recover it, the political ramifications could be disastrous. The Italian government wouldn't be happy, neither would the mayor, not with elections coming up."

Terry and Chris were on the roof of the museum. "Okay, no sign of him" Robin said.

"It's early yet," reminded Batman.

And then all hell broke loose. The Armoured Car rammed into the doors of the museum. It was spray painted randomly with black and white and the bumper had been reinforced with large spikes.

"There we go" Chris said and vaulted off the roof.

"He certainly know how to make an entrance," Terry muttered.

"Actors" they shrugged.

The security guards looked up, the doors of the main room to of the museum exploded open, and they were set at the top of two curving staircases on the floor above the ground level. The men spread out along the balconies to the other exhibits and others came running down the steps. Most were dressed in black and white balaclavas and ski suits with Kevlar chests. But some wore different clothes, like the man at the top of the stairs. He was dressed as he had been during his raid on the art gallery.

Masque.

"Hold it right there!" one guard shouted. "Drop your weapon!" he exclaimed.

"If you insist YOU IDIOT" Masque sneered the small ying-yang disk over the railing. It exploded flinging the men backwards. The Desperado's stormed down. Sun and Moon held metal throwing versions of their namesakes and flanked him on either side. Beside them were Black and White holding pistols up, ready to fire. Moving down either staircase was Night and Day (Night Dressed in a black suit with silver sequins and a silver tie, Day dressed in a powder blue, white pinstriped suit and gold tie) descending with the Desperados. Night and Day were twins, identical, the same scars on their high cheekbones, the same curly hair and the same blue eyes.

Wright and Wrong looked to their boss. "Should we go get the sword?" they asked.

"Yes, you two with me, Black and White will oversee the capture of the guards" Masque said. "And THEN WE CAN EXECUTE THEM if I feel like it."

The glass three floors above them shattered as two figures came through it. Batman jetted at Masque and Robin landed in the midst of the Desperado's. "Okay! Here's the game plan," Masque said. "KILL THEM!"

He pivoted and darted down a side passage as Black and White took a swing at Batman. He ducked. Black (dressed in his White suit) swung again as he fired under arm. Terry darted aside and a batarang removed the armaments. Terry kicked White off balance and jump kicked him into a wall. He rushed after Masque.

Robin extended his hand, the staff snapped out. "Okay, bring it on" he said. The first Desperado tackled him. He rammed the staff into the stomach of the man and swung the other end into the side of his head. He spun the staff quickly at head level and knocked the men around him away. He back flipped over a tackle from Day and leapt up onto a display cabinet as Night fired at him. "Come on, let's see what you boys have got!" he exclaimed.

"Hey Boy Future!!" Sun shouted as he hurled the bladed disk. "Catch!"

Chris flipped to one side, his staff in both hands. He slammed his staff into the tiles and used it to let himself run up the wall and grab the raised banister of the stairway, vaulting over onto the steps. He kicked Sun down the stairs. "Sorry you missed"

"I won't!" Moon exclaimed. The moon boomerang slashed across Chris's arm. He shouted in pain. The returning boomerang was targeted for his neck...and then it veered off course and dug itself into a wall. Moon stared...Chris kicked him in the gut and punched him out.

The Gotham Ritz booked only the biggest acts. Iola marched into the office of the entertainment manager. She was dressed in a blue power suit and meant business. She held up her medallion to the secretary. "The demon's eye command you to obey," she said to the woman. "Mr Rothman and I are not to be disturbed."

"Yes Miss" the secretary murmured.

Iola entered the office and shut the door, she raised the pendant. "Who the hell--" Rothman was dressed in white trousers and a blue coat. He was in his 50's and had white hair and a beard. His eyes glazed over as the pendant glinted.

"I'm your new star act" Iola said. "And it's going to be a gala event when you book me to entertain the Investors Ball" she said calmly. "Isn't that right?"

Rothman could only nod.

Wright and Wrong fired at Terry from behind the pillars. They had covered Masque's route to the display room. Terry leaned his back against a pillar and snapped two batarangs out. "Batman!" Wright called.

"Batman!" Wrong called. They were waiting.

He hurled the batarangs; the snap and flash of light earned Terry a unified cry. Wright and Wrong staggered about. Finally they blinked and looked at one another. "Where's the Bat?" they asked. "Did he run away?"

"Not really" a voice said from behind them. They turned around and were punched so hard their heads spun. They crashed to the ground and Masque's route was now open for Terry.

Masque was standing at the glass case. He flipped his coin. "Stylish or DESTRUCTIVE?" he mused. He caught the coin. The batarang cracked him in the side of the hand. He shouted and dropped the coin. "You're gonna pay for that one! The Death penalty still stands!" he snarled to Terry who was standing in the doorway.

"You'll be lucky if you don't get it" Terry said.

Masque spun and pulled the black and white pistols from his coat. He fired. Terry dived aside as the blasts tore up the floor. Masque walked towards him, firing non-stop. Terry dived into a flip and vaulted a display case. Masque blew the glass on the case away. "Why do you protect them Bats? You and I both know that they were all to willing to crucify you when the twins set you up".

Terry went into stealth mode. He darted along behind Masque. Masque turned and fired. "They'll turn on you again, its all the now never the next! Its what's in fashion and Correct now and not what's basically RIGHT at its core!"

Masque touched the corner of his mask and a blue and a green shutter closed down on either eye. "They don't care...but you and I? We're exceptional. We have the power, the intelligence to do what must be done."

Terry snapped open a batarang...Masque whirled and hurled a small yin-yang disk at him. It exploded into a cloud of black and white gas that choked Terry's breathing. Masque walked over and kicked him in the stomach and gripped him in the throat, putting one gun away so he could. He pushed the barrel of his gun to Terry's head. "And even though you know that it has to be done you fight it and try to escape your base instinct, the instinct all humans have. The Kill. The Destroy. The Crush. The Dominate" Masque leaned close to Terry's ear. "Deep down, you're a killer too," he whispered.

Terry shouted out in anger and shoved Masque away. The man stumbled back and tripped on a velvet rope knocked over in the shooting. He flipped back to his feet with both guns out.

"Now that was just plain RUDE YOU HYPOCRITE!" he aimed. Chris appeared at the door. "Or why go for the KILL when I can go for the HURT?" he fired at Chris and Robin fell. "Gotta run" Masque added as Terry ran towards the fallen boy.

"Terry what's happened to him?" Selina exclaimed.

The blood was on Terry's hand. "Shot" he said. "I—I—I can't see where—where the bloods coming from" Terry gasped frantically. His father. Erika. Catwoman. His father. Chris? Chris now?

TBC

Chris is shot. Terry blames himself. Masque got away but without the sword. Iola will be entertaining a gathering of the rich and powerful. And Veronica's all set for a date with Terry.

Okay and Terry's the Tomorrow Knight, so what does that make Chris? Any suggestions?