Terry was slagged to all hell. Yeah, he stopped Powers from shipping a deadly chemical across the international boarder and brought his father's killer to justice, but he was still slagged.
He had managed to slip back into his home sometime between one and two o'clock in the middle of the night. His mom must have heard him because she came to check up on Terry shortly after he got back. Terry had stuffed the Batsuit underneath his bed and ducked under the covers before she came in. Thankfully, she didn't stay too long, seemingly relived to know that he was home. Hopefully she didn't notice the pointed ears poking out from underneath. Terry immediately passed out afterwards.
He didn't know how long he had been sleeping. Thankfully, it was a weekend, so he didn't have to go to school. He allowed himself to sink into his bed, ready to sleep the day away…when a sharp knock on his bedroom door ruined his plans.
"Terry! Terry, wake up!" Mary called to her son, opening the door without his permission. She saw her son groggily rising from the bed. "Honey, quick, get dressed. We have company."
"Company?" Terry groaned, running a hand down his face. "This early?"
"A man named Matthew Malone," Mary informed him. "He's here to see you."
Malone? Wayne? He came all the way to Terry's house? He must want the suit back – that's the only logical explanation. Well, it was fun while it lasted, Terry thought.
Knowing how grumpy the old man could be, Terry quickly threw on some casual pants and a shirt and made his way into the living room. Unsurprisingly, he found Bruce – or rather, Matthew Malone – sitting on the couch, leaning against his cane, while Julia stood behind him like a dutiful bodyguard. They were both watching the TV, which had been turned on to the morning news. A sense of satisfaction welled up in Terry's chest when he saw that the headline was about Wayne-Powers, and it didn't look good.
" – international conglomerate Wayne-Powers under fire today as face numerous allegations for the production of biological weapons. Mr. Powers went on record saying that these claims were 'fake news' contributed by Wayne-Powers rivals such as Foxteca and Lexcorp. Things aren't looking for Mr. Powers, are they, Kim?"
"No, they are not, Tom. While the police are still recovering evidence from the Waye-Powers hover transport that crashed into the Gotham River, the NGPD have formally arrested Mr. Powers' bodyguard, Jack Buchinsky, who has reportedly fallen into a coma and was admitted to the Elliot Memorial Hospital until police surveillance. The police are hoping to interrogate Mr. Buchinsky when, and if, he recovers."
"It doesn't end there, Kim. Rumor has it that the man credited for Mr. Buchinsky's arrest and leaking the information of Wayne-Powers B.W. is none other than Gotham's own Dark Knight, Batman."
"You heard it right, folks. Batman has been sighted in Gotham once more, both by amateur videos and Waye-Powers surveillance footage. Has Bruce Wayne returned after purportedly dying forty years ago, or are we looking at a whole new Caped Crusader. Gothamites are eager to find out. Myself included."
"In other news, Queen Perdita of Vlatava has publically announced the dismissal of Vlatavan Minister of Commerce, István Kornai, following suspected involvement in the shipment of illegal arms – "
"I hope you don't mind milk," Mary interrupted, walking into the living room with two steaming mugs. "We're out of cream."
"I prefer it," said Bruce with a smile. As he accepted the mug, he noticed Terry out of the corner of his eye. "Terrance, sorry to get you up so early."
"It's okay, Mr. Wa – Malone," Terry corrected himself quickly before his mom noticed.
"How do you two know each other?" Mary asked curiously.
"Uh, well, you see, I…," Terry stammered haphazardly. He wasn't expecting Bruce and Julia to show up at his doorstep, let alone talk to his mom. How was he supposed to explain that he ran into Bruce while being mugged by the Black Masks and stealing his Batsuit. Oh, and that he was also Batman.
Thankfully, Bruce jumped in to save him like a real hero.
"Why, I owe this boy my life," said Bruce, surprising Terry. "He defended me from a bunch of hooligans once. I tried to reward him, but he absolutely refused."
"Oh, Terry, I'm so proud of you," Mary praised her son.
"C'mon, ma, it was nothing, really," said Terry sheepishly.
"I'm sorry to intrude upon your home so early," said Bruce, setting his mug down, "but I was wondering if you might be interested in a job, Mr. McGinnis."
"A job?" Terry repeated, surprised again.
"As it just so happens, I'm a shareholder on the board of directors for Foxteca," Bruce informed him.
"You work at Foxteca?" asked Terry. The surprises never end!
I was a good friend with the founder," said Bruce with a cryptic smile. "The thing is, it's getting harder for me to do things in my old age, and I find myself in need of an assistant."
"Don't you already have one?" said Terry, looking at Julia.
"I'm a bodyguard, not a gofer," Julia said pointedly.
"Would you be interested?" asked Bruce.
"Of course he would," said Mary eagerly. "Wouldn't you, honey."
"Sounds like a good deal," said Terry with a knowing smile. "Though I'm probably gonna need a suit. To fit in with the company, you know."
"I'm sure we have something that'll fit," said Julia, smirking.
"I warn you: I can be a difficult taskmaster," said Bruce, standing up slowly. "I expect nothing short of excellence from all who work for me."
"I think I can handle it," said Terry confidently.
"Very good then, Mr. McGinnis," said Bruce, holding out his hand. "Welcome to my world."
Terry shook his hand, sealing the silent pact between them.
And on this day, a new Batman rose.
Derek Powers tried to hide his fury behind a dispassionate expression, but he couldn't stop his hand from gripping the armrest of his chair, threatening to snap it off.
The rats in the news were still reporting about Buchinsky and the bioweapon hours later after the initial story. He had managed to avoid any serious reprecussions thanks to a little PR and throwing several of his employees to the lions, namely Buchinsky and the executives in charge of the biological research division. But this failure had come with a significant price. Not only was he forced to end production on the nerve gas, costing him millions of dollars, but any chance he had at expanding into the European market had gone down with the hover transport.
All because of Batman.
If it was Miss Winston standing behind him, he would have thrown his chair out the window.
"Miss Winston, what's become of our friend Buchinsky?" Powers asked his secretary.
"Still in a coma, sir," said Miss Winston.
"Be sure that he doesn't wake up," Powers instructed. "Grease some palms if you need to. I don't want any loose ends."
"Of course, sir," said Miss Winston without an ounce of surprise or sympathy. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"Leave," Powers ordered. "I need to make a call."
Miss Winston bowed her head in acknowledgement and took her leave. Powers waited until the door was shut before pressing a hidden button underneath his desk. The switch dropped the shutters over the windows, plunging the room into darkness, and six holographic screens popped up in the center of his office. Powers rose from his chair, adjusting his tie, as six shadowy figures appeared on the monitors.
"What happened, Powers?" Shadow-3 questioned irritably, his voice possessing a thick European accent. "You had a simple job: ship the toxin to Vlatava, which would instigate a war between them and Markovia."
"We had a little…interference on this end," Powers replied cautiously.
"We don't care for excuses, Powers," Shadow-4, his accent also European with a deeper baritone.
"Not even if that excuse is…Batman?" said Powers.
That seemed to get a reaction out of the men and women behind the monitors. There was hushed whispers among a few of them, except for their leader, who stared straight ahead at Powers.
"Batman? Bruce Wayne? He's alive?" questioned Shadow-5, his voice garbled and mechanical.
"Unlikely," said Shadow-2, a woman with a tempered, yet alluring accent. "He would have to be an old man by now."
"A successor then?" Shadow-4 suggested. "Who is it? Grayson? Todd? Drake?"
"All of them are accounted for," said Shadow-6, their voice hollow and echoing. "It must be someone else."
"New blood, then," said Shadow-2.
"This new Batman presents an unknown factor," said Shadow one, her voice soft, but also reverberated with power. "One that could tip the scales away from the side of Doom."
"He's just some punk playing dress-up," Powers scoffed. "He's no Wayne."
"Says the man who was beaten and humiliated by said 'punk,'" Shadow-5 cackled. Powers growled, clenching his fist.
"This new Batman may not pose a threat yet, but that could change with time," said Shadow-1. "Powers, we offered you a seat on this council because we believed you were worthy of standing beside us…. Prove us right and pluck this seed before it takes root."
And with that final threat, the monitors vanished, leave Powers standing alone in the dark.
Terminal pounded his fist against the table furiously, making his gang back away slowly in fear. After their failure at the bank the other night, they had retreated back to their gang's hideout, which was an abandoned auto shop in Old Gotham. They had been forced to lay low for several days, hiding in the dark like a bunch of rats. His irritation reached its boiling point and saw the new reporting about the Batman – that costumed freak that ruined their job!
"Uh, you okay, Terminal?" asked Chucko anxiously.
"No, I'm not all right!" Terminal screamed, throwing a tire iron at him. Chucko and the others barely ducked out of the way, letting the tool clatter against the wall. "We were close! So close! We were gonna be the rich gang in Gotham! And then that freak in the bat costume ruined it all!"
"You mean Batman?" said Bonk.
"It wasn't Batman!" Terminal roared, throwing a crowbar that nailed Bonk square on the head. "Batman's dead! He's not real! That wasn't him!"
"But we saw him at the bank – " said Delia.
"And he's on the news," Deirdre concluded.
Terminal silenced the twins with an evil glare. He smacked the table again and growled, "And even worse than that freak is the other freak, Duela."
"What about her?" asked Ghoul.
"I went to the hospital to make sure she didn't talk about what happened," said Terminal, "but she was already gone by the time I got there. The little bitch probably went blabbing to the cops!"
"So, what do we do, Terminal?" asked Chucko.
"For now, we lay low until the heat cools down," said Terminal levelheadedly, his anger slowly subsiding as he took a deep, cleansing breath. "Stop doing jobs until they forget about us. Once we're in the clear, we'll start planning for our next big gig."
"Which is?" asked Ghoul.
"Dunno yet," Terminal admitted. "But if I ever see that pointy-eared loser or that snitch, I'm gonna – "
Whatever threat he was about to pronounce was cut off when the door to the room was throwing open with a spine-tingling screech, filling the darkened room with light. The Jokerz winced at the sudden brightness. Terminal gritted his teeth, glaring at the shadowy figure that suddenly appeared at their doorstep.
"Hey, asshole, do you know where you are?" Terminal called out threateningly. The shadowy figure did not seem to heed him. "This is Jokerz territory! Unless you want us to cut a smile on your face, you better beat it!" Once again, the intruder did not move. "Here, are you stupid or something? I said get outta here!"
The intruder finally stood up straight, appearing to look at Terminal with interest, before tossing something on the floor. It clattered on the cracked concrete, rolling until it stopped in the middle of the gang. Ghoul bended down to pick up the object…and discovered it to be a red biker's helmet.
"Wait, isn't this…?" Ghoul murmured in shock.
"Holy shit, you're alive," said Chucko, sounding impressed. "We all thought you got slagged, Duela."
"Well, looks like the mouse came crawling back," said Terminal condescendingly. "You better not have ratted us out to the cops, freak."
The shadowy figure – Duela – tilted her head slightly, then slowly, languidly, walked she passed by the unconscious Bonk, she bended down and collected the crowbar next to the brute. With the tool in hand, she moved sluggishly towards Terminal, who started laughing at her.
"What? You think you can threaten me?" Terminal cackled. "Bitch, did thy remove your brain at the hospital or something? You can't do shit to me! I'm Terminal – "
But Duela swung the crowbar across his face faster than the arrogant clown had anticipated. Terminal was thrown on top of the table, which broke underneath his weight, and collapsed on the ground. The rest of the Jokerz watched with a mixture of shock and apprehension.
Terminal groaned, shaking the stars out of his eyes, and tried to sit up. Duela straddled his chest, pressing her knees on his arms to pin him down. The mousy girl raised the crowbar high over her head and brought it down on Terminal's face before he had a chance to scream –
And she did it again –
And again –
And again –
And again –
Each thwack was followed by a shower of blood that splattered everywhere: on the floor, the table, but mostly on Duela. But the girl didn't seem to mind or care, because she kept beating Terminal's face in even after he stopped moving. The Jokerz slowly backed away in terror. Woof shivered behind Ghoul's legs, who clutching his pumpkin bucket like a teddy bear. Chucko pressed himself against the back wall, looking ready to book it any second. Bonk was still out cold, and the Dee-Dee Twins held each other, shaking from head to toe.
Finally, Duela stopped. She stared at Terminal's blooded, disfigured face apathetically and tossed the bloodstained crowbar aside. Duela slowly rose to her feet and just stood there, seemingly admiring her work. After a long moment of terrified silence, the Dee-Dee Twins finally spoke up.
"Um…Duela," said Delia timidly.
"Are you okay…?" said Deirdre equally fretful.
Duela turned her head slowly to look over her shoulder, her skin somehow unnaturally pale with the exception of her jaw, which was painted in Terminals blood.
And then, she laughed….