Alright here is chapter 2. Now this chapter has some added drama for the sake of the story. The Jokerz part did NOT happen to me XD Anyways, this is something i kinda threw together today so i hope you guys enjoy it. Please forgive any grammatical, spelling, etc. errors. I really didnt do a good job editing this. _
The Ditch
Chapter Two
Terror & Realizations
Terry shifted his blue eyes slightly with confusion as the phone pressed against his ear continued to ring before Max's sensual voice stated, "Hey, you've reached the shwayest dame in town. Peg a mess and I'll dial ya back." McGinnis snorted in brief amusement, and then told the answering service: "Max. You sure you don't need a ride? Look, call me back. I'm almost at Chels's."
Placing the phone in the cup holder of one of Bruce's cars that Terry was "borrowing" for the winter, the hero protégé hummed disapprovingly; that was the third time within the hour he'd tried calling Max but got no answer. Sure she needed space so she could vent a little while longer privately but this was ridiculous! Gibson always took his calls. God, he hoped she and her mom hadn't got into another verbal spat…or that Gibson wasn't on some kind of ultra-nuclear punishment or something – one, because that would be so unfair to Max; two, because the group wouldn't be able to accomplish a solid breakdown study on physics without her! The teens could probably manage – sure – but a study group just wasn't as much fun without Max there to liven it up!
McGinnis turned onto Cunningham's block and came to a stop in front of a simple yet elegant two-story home. Noting the red sports car already in the drive he rolled his eyes and put the vehicle into park. Terry reached back into the rear seats and grabbed his backpack with a wearied sigh, then finally got out and headed up the walkway to the front porch. The Cunningham's had a nice home, but it always felt so odd coming here…so…empty. Ringing the doorbell Terry fiddled his fingers against the icy blast of wind while waiting almost impatiently until the door opened to a middle aged man whose handsome features were worn with reluctance, exhaustion and grief. The eyes of the man appeared glazed and cold and the secret vigilante faltered. Chelsea hadn't mentioned her father would be home. "Hi, Mr. Cunningham," Terry greeted awkwardly.
"You here to study?" Mr. Cunningham droned, overlooking the young man with a hint of suspicion yet absent concern.
"For the study group, yes," McGinnis answered.
Mr. Cunningham gestured his head as an invitation to come inside; McGinnis obliged the offer after an adjustment of the backpack on his shoulders. The out-of-it father tossed a hand for the back of the house where lights and sounds of faint laughter floated towards them. "In the back. Try not to make too much of a ruckus." Without another word the Cunningham sire turned and headed up the steps, Terry watching him until the grown man finally disappeared, and then going himself down the foyer beyond the extravagantly large marble covered kitchen into a comfortable family room: it housed a glass desk and desktop computer, a sofa, loveseat, two arm chairs, wooden cabinets and counter that practically ran along the wall length of the room, a four purpose state of the art printer, and a cobblestone fireplace.
Sitting at the desk was Howie, Nelson Nash hovered behind him; their faces were illuminated from the light of the computer screen and attention diverted on it rather than the purpose of the gathering. Chelsea was sprawled on her back on the sofa with crossed legs and a magazine in hand while Dana lingered on knees before the warmth of the flames coming out the fireplace. Real fire as opposed to the electric imagery ones. Shway. Music resounded quietly and loose creds were tossed on a long glass table in front of the sofa – probably for the purpose of ordering food once the group entirety arrived. Yet there was no sign of Max in this warm and welcoming room. Terry was obviously late – what unnerved him was the fact that Gibson typically wasn't.
Cunningham peered around the magazine's pages as a grin slipped easily across her mouth. Sure Chelsea was a rebellious problem child (what teen in Gotham wasn't?) with a slight attention complex derived from a screwed up relationship with her father – but the girl could be a real doll when she wanted to be. It's why the gang adored her so much. Chelsea swung her legs over the sofa side and practically twirled over to Terry; giving him a friendly hug. Ever since he'd come to see her when she was locked up in that crazy correctional facility for teens and promised to get her out, the two had become fairly close. They weren't associates through mutual friends anymore: they were friends.
"Ter!" Chelsea exclaimed in her perfect cheer. "You're lake like my old man trying to actually be a father." Nelson made a crude remark from the other side of the room and she flipped him off before returning to the conversation with McGinnis. The blonde future model looked over his shoulder expecting to see their mutual best friend but blinked instead. "Where's my baby?" Last Chelsea checked, Max was supposed to be catching a ride with McGinnis – so where was she?
Terry had been glad to see Chelsea as he engaged in the hug. But at the mention of Max all concerns flooded over him once more and the hero held her at arm's length with narrowed brows. "You haven't heard from Max?"
Chelsea shook her head as the remaining teens grew immediately distant from their original distractions and became attentive at the level of worry in the once delinquent's voice. "A couple hours ago, maybe? She was going to call me after talking to her about Metropolis."
McGinnis huffed. That was long prior to when he'd talked to her last. "They got into a fight about it," he informed the girl who frowned deeply in disappointment.
"Is she okay?" Dana asked, moving away from the fireplace. Tan, like the rest of them (aside McGinnis, they figured), had heard very little about Max's home life – but they knew enough of the back and forth the Gibson women seemed to have with one another. Bickering that usually had some kind of negative aftereffect on Max.
"I told my future wife," Nelson added after rounding from the desk and folding his arms authoritatively – Terry groaned –, "to just lemme drive her to Metropolis. It'd be much cheaper."
"Suuuure," Chelsea chimed through rolled eyes. "A pack of condoms is definitely cheaper than airfare."
"Exactly!" the ginger sports junkie exclaimed with a mischievous grin. Everyone knew Nelson Nash respected Max as a person, adored her as a friend…and lusted after the plumpest ass and breasts at Hill High. Max had an insane body and being the perv that he was, it would be a sin not to admire what she had been so dutifully blessed with. He'd never force her if it meant destroying their friendship – but heaven knew he would try to push the limits as far as they could stretch.
"God, Nelson!" Chelsea retorted in disgust. "Please don't ever reproduce."
"That's what the condoms are for, duh."
If there were ever a moment that Terry wanted to throw away Batman's "No Kill" motto, it was without a doubt every single time Nelson Nash opened his mouth to speak. Hearing the sports head talk about sex was bad enough, but to hear him speak about Max in that light just pissed McGinnis off to the core of his very existence. Terry would wring Nash's neck…But right now there were other things on Terry's mind besides sticking the jock's head into the fireplace. "I tried calling her," the teen interjects the twos juvenile banter, "but can't get an answer."
Dana strides across the room and gives her current ex-boyfriend a stare. "Max may be a tech wiz, but even she doesn't keep her cell attached to her hip 24/7. Maybe she's working things out with Mrs. Gibson." In truth, Tan had come for a specific reason tonight. Unlike the others she wasn't struggling in physics. In fact, she was second behind Max for the highest grade in the class. The real reason the Asian beauty was here was to secure Terry. She wanted him back again and hoped during this time together the two of them would kiss and make-up as per their usual ritual. Right now, however, she didn't feel quite as confident. Why? Because of the way Terry looked right now while talking about Max. That worry on his countenance gave her the impression of something far more than mere friendship…and the idea of that not only shocked, but confused her.
Terry glowered at the thought of such a thing, however. "No one can work anything out with Mrs. Gibson," the boy snarled. McGinnis's feeling for Max's mother was of pure disdain – not solely from Max's words and point of view, but out of personal experience. Mrs. Gibson, from the very first moment she'd met him, was not Terry's biggest fan. To say she hated him would be too gentle of an understatement. After somehow finding out about the boy's previous troubles with Gotham law she'd told him straight up how she felt. He had dropped by one evening a while back to hang out with Maxine at the apartment, but judging from the expression on Max's face as her mother came through the front door, he knew this wasn't a planned visit. Max made the introductions and her mother's face hardened in significance. Basically the woman said Terry was a no good, troublemaking, horrid influence of an insect that she would not let plant his disgusting seed of inferiority anywhere near her daughter. Mrs. Gibson wouldn't acknowledge much less hear how her daughter's best friend had changed his life around. What she felt would not be swayed, and Terry got real tired real fast over the years of trying to shift the hag's perspective. There was a better chance of hell freezing over before Mrs. Gibson would see that she could be wrong.
Dana rolled her eyes but caressed his shoulder blade in that way she knew he liked, earning her a surprised raise of the brow from McGinnis. "Anything's possible, Ter," she explained sexily, an underlining message in those words. Chelsea scowled a little and turned away from Tan with a quiet huff. Chelsea loved Dana to pieces but honestly thought it was time for her relationship with Terry stay strictly friends. They weren't as compatible now as they had been. Sure they tried hard to keep their relationship flourishing – and Chelsea had to offer some big ass kudos for that because the young teen knew herself that she could never have that much patience – but it seemed like this was, or perhaps should have been, drawing to a close. She knew of another young woman who deserved a chance…another young woman who cared for him, just as he cared for her even if he was unaware of it. "TAX", "MERRY" – whatever cute little abbreviation they could have for it – in secret and with all hope, Chelsea shipped Terry and Max…she shipped them like first class FedEx.
Dana continued, unknowing about her girlfriend's quiet thoughts, "Just give it a little while longer. Max's a big girl who isn't too afraid to ask for help. If she needs us," Chelsea internally groaned at the "us", "she'll call us."
"Yeah…I guess you're right." Terry reluctantly agreed as he pulled a hand out of his pocket and relaxed: shaking, for a moment, the feeling that Max couldn't call… and that she needed him badly.
After about the fifth time and Max's failed attempts to reach it, the cell phone finally stopped buzzing from atop the channel and grew eerily silent, leaving Max to give a defeated whine of despair. The girl slammed her hand to her side and murmured, "Teerrry…", through closed eyelids. But he couldn't hear her. For all Max knew he wasn't even at the study session; he was probably off fighting crime somewhere far from her…and that's when she felt it:
Terror.
What if no one ever noticed she was missing? What if she could never get out of this hole? Max's throat constricts as her breaths grow short and shallow with panic, fingers gripping into the icy snow. Her mind raced: no one knew where she was, she couldn't get out on her own, her cell was stuck up there…No. NO! This honestly couldn't be happening to her right now. Yet it was, and it was apparent just how powerless she actually was. There was no line of code to hack, no textbooks to study, no Batman to save her. She was by herself. Max began screaming again, begging for someone to hear her – but in truth she could hardly hear herself.
She screamed for what felt like hours until her throat hurt and body caved into exhaustion. The snow began to melt into the girl's pants, soaking her skin as her body was racked with chills. She couldn't feel her legs or fingers anymore, which given the leg break was good…but she also couldn't feel anything other than cold that ripped through her limbs like a flame as the shivers spread. Her teeth chattered.
With her gaze fixated on the dull and gray Gotham winter sky, Max assessed her terms. So this was it, huh? Max knew everyone at some point or another had to die, but this wasn't how Gibson envisioned how she would go. The genius always thought she'd die at ninety-nine in her small, quaint mattress in her small, quaint home in a cul-de-sac off the beach; not as a teenager in the ground frozen solid like Jack from the Titanic. Max scoffed at the mental comparison. At least Jack was with the person he loved before dying…at least he wasn't all alone! But Max didn't have anyone with her – she wouldn't get to say goodbye before sinking to a dark chilling death. Jack had lived his short life to its fullest: he'd traveled, gambled, ran from authority, lived according to his own standards and not the ones society thought he should have…Jack fell madly in love – pursued it, cultivated it, received and enjoyed it to the bitter, freezing end.
And what had Max done with her life? Sure she was brilliant and therefore had constant opportunities at her feet but what had she done? Nothing. Despite her tough girl exterior Max allowed herself to stay trapped under someone else's beliefs: her mother's – which in turn really kept her stuck beneath the ever shifting standards of society: a society who loved you one minute and would hang you the next and disown all you've ever done as if you never even existed – and then forget about your existence. Maxine gasped at this newfound realization. For so hard she'd fought not to become a paper cut out of society yet all along she was. Maybe not as openly as others, but the fact that she'd successfully been deceived into subtle control and obedience by her mother only proved she was (in a small way that might've been insignificant to most) living a lie.
Gibson couldn't even tell her best friend how she really felt about him: not because she thought they weren't compatible, but out of fear of rejection… fear he would inadvertently break her heart down the road. When Max thought about it: she was pathetic. And now the girl would die down here without ever taking advantage of each new day as an opportunity to pursue greater things, self-happiness – to make something out of her life. She was a senior in high school and had not the slightest clue about who she was and what she wanted.
All along her greatest fear had not solely been death, and now she was paralyzed with the obvious knowledge of what else it was…Inadequacy. She was inadequate: to her sister, father, mother, school, friends…Terry…but even more frightening – to herself. Maxine Gibson didn't matter. And no matter how hard she struggled to please her family or how many computer systems she hacked for her Batman bestie, she never would matter. This ditch was the only thing her short life would ever amount to; and after about a week she'd be forgotten. Surely everyone would simply carry on with their lives and Max's memory would be nothing more than a sad "tragedy" – a shadowed figment of the past. Someone had said once: "We do not die when we've passed from one world to the next; we die when we are forgotten." Right now, that's how she felt. In this moment Gibson had wished for a swift death rather than this torturous suffering she must endure. Tears, the only heat she could feel, flowed down her cheeks.
Time passed, and the cold in her bones seemed to subside as the female exhaled white vapor from her drying lips. Already the sun was low in the sky and Max knew hours must have fled from her. The siren of an ambulance rang in the distance but she knew it wasn't coming for her. With eyes growing heavy Max prepared to drift into a world of slumber when there was the echo of squeaking brakes and car doors slamming. Max lifted her brown irises at the crunch of footsteps…and her remaining color melted from her body.
Five faces looked down at her…five grinning faces…five painted faces. Jokerz. "Heeeey," chimed a scrawny one with abnormally large buck teeth. "Aint this the juicy ass from earlier?" Max inhaled. They were the idiots who ran her off the road?!
"Looks like it," replies a larger built clown with an arm wrapped around a barely dressed girl's hip. How was she not freezing in that get up? Max noted the hazed look in the girl's eyes and came to the conclusion all knowingly: it's hard to feel anything when you're pumped full of narcotics.
There was a gagging sound. "Oh! UGH! Her leg!" groaned an obese gang member as he turned and keeled over his knees and heaved. Max rolled her eyes internally. Pussy.
But the leader wasn't disturbed in the least bit as he grinned some more. "Whew!" he whistled. "She's got it bad." His eyes catch the black phone resting in the snow. "Maybe you should call someone." He kicks it down playfully in hopes of watching her squirm and writhe in pain of trying to get it as it landed a good arm stretch from her. But Max did nothing. She just looked up at him with silent eyes until his grin gradually descended into an annoyed frown. "Well, being the good Samaritans we are, how about we check for damaged personal belongings?" The gang whooped and slid down into the ditch, rummaging through Max's pockets and jacket. The leader climbed on top of her, pressing his full seated weight onto her stomach. Max grimaced a little. "Hey…you're kinda cute," he adds, pulling out a switchblade and pressing it against her jaw. "Name's Teaser, baby? What's yours?"
Max said nothing. She knew that the more she "gave" clowns like these then the more trouble they gave back in return. If she didn't respond to them, they'd get bored and leave her to die…or get mad and just kill her right there. Max wasn't sure which one she actually preferred right now. "Silent huh?"
"Maybe she's got a concussion or something," replied the smaller one with bucked teeth. "Hey, check her head TeeHee."
The girl Jokerz member named TeeHee laid alongside Max deep into the snow without a care and ran her fingers through Max's pink hair, giggling. "Pink hair. This girl's got style! I LIKE her!" TeeHee suddenly gripped the soft locks and yanked unexpectedly hard, causing Max to give a hiss of pain. TeeHee seemed pleased by this display as she gave Max a gentle pat on the head as a reward for her agony. "I love her sound of pain."
A second scrawny teen, twin to the other but minus the bucked teeth and oddly more attractive looking than his nerdy counterpart, sat on his hunches atop the drift with the chubby one. The smaller guy looked bored; the chubby one looked more so uncomfortable – like he didn't want to be here, like he realized joining the Jokerz was the biggest mistake of his existence. "I wouldn't call that pain," the tiny clown retorted with a yawn. "More like…discomfort."
TeeHee shot him an annoyed look. "Jig," she growled at the other thin twin rummaging through Max's pockets, "tell your brother to mind his manners."
"Shut up Jag," Jig commanded, resuming his search with frustration.
The gentle giant next to Jag twiddled his fingers. "It doesn't look like she's got anything. Let's bail."
But Teaser held up his hand to silence them. "Not so fast Bullhorn. There's always something she can give us." He trailed the blade tip down her jaw and neck, encircling her breast before trailing it lower until it rested just outside her womanly parts. Max's eyes widened. "See? There's a response! Tell you what babe, you give us a laugh and we let you live."
Max's breath became short and ragged. "I don't…have any…thing," she whispered, convulsing in the chill.
TeeHee cooed. "Awww look! She's cold!" In an instant she grabbed Max's jacket and fought with the zipper. Max's hand instinctively flew up and grabbed the girl's wrist as they struggled with one another for a brief second until she felt something strike her upside the head. Gibson grew limp for a second, and then felt a sharp tug as her jacket was ripped off her and donned onto the Joker female. "It fits!" the girl said, twirling for the boys appraisingly.
Teaser reached off to the side and grabbed the phone he'd kicked down and held it between he and his little broken captive. "Let's make a call. Hmmm," he hummed while scrolling through her directory until, "Ahhhh! Terry! That's the last person you talked to. Let's call Terry."
As badly as Gibson wanted the Joker to do just that, for whatever reason Max shook her head and pressed her freezing palms into his chest as the wild teen gave a cackle, hit call and put the phone on speaker. It rang only once before, "Max! Max where are you?" The sound of his voice made her sigh in relief. His voice was like the angel's singing to her right now and she felt a flurry emotions begin to overwhelm her. Finally, a chance to saved! A chance to-.
Teaser pressed his hand with the knife in it over her mouth with a chuckle as the male voice repeated her name over and over again before the clown hung up. "Max huh?" he asked with a crooked glint. "What's that short for?" Oh God he was playing games with her! She wouldn't be found like this…and that's what he was aiming for – her freak out. Max whimpered nervously as panic began to take her and the cellular vibrated with an incoming call. Teaser waited until just before the fourth ring when he answered it, watching her fear and tension with amusement. "Max? MAX?!" She could see the clown moving his finger once more to the "end" button and out of maddened desperation Gibson chomped down on Teaser's palm as he cursed and yanked it back. "TERRRRY!"
"MAX?!"
"Terry help-UGH!" Teaser growled and slammed the blade into the girl's side as she gasped with a spring forward, clutching tight to the Jokerz member's shoulder with a disbelieving gaze towards the heavens. Her pupils shifted as she exhaled laboriously and Max stared right into his eyes. Seeming to enjoy the attention he was getting in the face of her demise the clown held the knife in place, ignoring the cries of the male on the other line, and leaned forward with a whisper of her beauty – kissing Max's jaw with a soft chuckle as her tears spilled over paling cheeks before quickly extracting the blood covered blade from the teen's flesh and his victim fell back into the snow, clutching her side as the white powder turned a pooling red.
The gathered clowns watch on in silence, Jag finding some amusement finally for the night as he leaned forward with a large smile. The gang leader lustfully overlooked her frame before, "Hey there Terry," Teaser huffed while watching her stare off into nothingness. "Found your friend here. She hasn't been much fun though, so we're gonna leave her."
"Where is she?" the voice growled.
"Oh, just here," Teaser teased as his crew broke out into laughter. "I really hope you can find her in time, though, Terry. She's hurt real bad." Teaser applied pressure on her broken leg and the screams Max had called forth from before had nothing on what she did right now. The heavy set Joker atop the channel turned back over on his knees. Teaser hung up the phone and placed it on Max's stomach as she broke into spasms of agony. "Thanks for the fun Max. Catch ya later." He, Jig, and TeeHee scrambled up the incline with the sound of car doors slamming before silence engulfed the area again. Just like that, the Jokerz had left as quickly and randomly as they'd come.
The phone rang again, but Max couldn't find the initial strength to answer it. After about the third try she hit the answer button and brought the speaker to her ear. "Terry…" she whispered.
"Max! Are you alright? Did they- of course they hurt you. I'm going to kill-!"
"Terry…" the teen's voice choked on tears as her eyes once more grew heavy. "He…stabbed me!" The pooling red liquid oozing from her side had turned into a velvet river than traveled onward and showed no signs of flow halting. "I'm so tired…I don't think I'm gonna make…it…"
There was an immediate hesitation, but when Terry spoke again his voice was low and urging. She could hear what sounded like an engine revving up in the background. "Stay with me, Max. Where are you? I'm coming right now."
"I can't…tired…" it was becoming harder and harder to stay awake as Max's stomach heaved with a difficult breath.
"DAMNIT MAX! STAY AWAKE!" Terry suddenly burst out with anger. "Where…Are….YOU?!"
She inhaled a sharp and drawn breath. Her leg had frozen once more, but now everything else was shutting down as well. "Don't cry at my…funeral…okay? It's not your…fault." He was screaming something in her ears but she couldn't quite make it out. God she was so tired. "Love you…always…have-."
"MAX! Please babe," his voice cut with a sob. "Just tell me where you are…I'm coming to get you. I won't ever leave you alone again, I promise. Just tell me where you are…"
"Ditch…" And then there was a faint beeping sound as the call dropped. Max pulled back her cell to discover a completely blackened screen, and her heart lurched. She guessed the indeed had really come after all. The battery had died…now it was just her turn.
To Be Continued