Title: The Suit (pt 3)
Genre: fanfic (Batman Beyond)
Setting: sometime early on in the series
Rating: some mild swearing
Notes: Batman was created by Bob Kane and is now probably owned by Warner Brothers, DC Comics, and other people who do not include myself. I'm just playing, not making money, so please don't sue me.
III.
The thing about the suit is that it makes you think you're a god, an invincible enforcer of Justice, a Protector Of The Weak, Defender Of The Defenseless. Terry can hold his own against a few Jokerz or jocks of the Nelson persuasion, but he's prepared to face his general inadequacy in the realm of real butt-kicking – except that with the suit, he doesn't have to. He can flick a few switches, ignite the jets in his boots, and fly. He can throw a punch or ten or twelve and never have to worry about breaking a finger or missing a target. He can tap his belt and become, for all intents and purposes, invisible.
This, Terry thinks, is probably the best after-school job in the universe.
When he makes it to the balcony Stan is still spouting off something or other about inequality and economic class. He takes a break from it to inform Batman that he's on Stan's list of socio-economic terrorists.
"Guess you'll have to blow me up, too," says Terry pleasantly as he plants a fist in Stan's face.
The fight doesn't go well. Terry's been sucking it up and following Wayne's training sequences to the letter, but that doesn't change the fact that he's still new to this whole Batman thing and Stan is twice his size. Terry could probably dodge him all night, but that wouldn't solve the problem of the worried socialites below or the detonator Stan's thumb keeps inching dangerously toward.
Terry's gotten in a few good hits, but Stan shows no sign of slowing down; in fact, his next punch knocks the wind out of Terry's lungs with an audible woosh and sends him flying into a huge pile of debris. Stunned, he can hear screams from below and more of Stan's maniacal laughter. Forget the spinning room, forget the pounding pain in his chest; got to get to that trigger before Stan manages to get lucky….
"You're a mess, aren't you?" says a mild, amused voice from somewhere above his head.
Terry springs to his feet, half an eye on Stan, who is picking up a pillar rocked loose by the first blast, half an eye on this new crazy, a fifty-something in an impeccable, if slightly mussed, tux. Terry wonders what kind of lunatic makes his way toward danger rather than away from it. Aside from himself, of course.
"Get out of here," Terry hisses, turning back to face Stan. "It's dangerous."
"Right," says the man, and Terry can hear the smirk in his voice. "How many times have I –" He stops, suddenly getting a good look at Terry. At Batman. The man's entire body tenses, and pulls a gun out of nowhere.
"No," says Terry, and hurls himself at Stan, who seems a bit too preoccupied by screaming and getting ready to throw the very large pillar at Terry to notice that a man with a firearm is about to blow his head off.
A lot of things happen nearly at once.
Stan stumbles, finally noticing the lunatic racing toward him.
The man smacks Stan in the face with the gun, drops to the ground in a move that is entirely too fast and graceful for someone his age, and kicks Stan's legs out from under him.
Terry's leap takes him straight into the man's back, the momentum bowling them both over as Stan drops the pillar exactly where Terry and this idiot would have been had Terry not managed to direct their roll out of Stan's way.
"What the hell are you doing?" the man demands, wrenching himself away from Terry and returning his gun to a holster Terry realizes is cleverly hidden beneath his tuxedo jacket. Probably custom-made.
"Looks like I'm saving your life," Terry growls, noting that Stan appears to be down for the count. That was some move.
"Or just getting in the way," the man retorts, giving Terry a full once-over. "Who are you?"
Terry blinks. "I'm Batman."
The man snorts. "Yeah right."
Terry doesn't feel like arguing. "And you are…?"
The man pulls out a badge. "Blüdhaven PD. Stan's got a date with our judicial system. You'll have to get in line." He eyes Terry warily. "Assuming you are who you say you are."
So much for the suit's ability to instill righteous fear. "Look," says Terry, feeling annoyed, "If you think –"
"You might want to take care of that detonator before the police get here," says Wayne's voice. Terry turns to find the old man standing in the shadows looking at the two of them with an unreadable expression.
"My god," says the Blüdhaven idiot. "I thought –"
"Now," says Wayne sharply.
Terry does as he's told.