The King is Dead... Long Live
the King A Batman
Beyond Fanfic
Notes: I have not seen all the Batman Beyond episodes, and
therefore there may be some elements in this story that run contradictory to
events on the show itself. I have tried to remain faithful to the show as it is
without changing the characters or the tone, with the exception of portraying a
situation that has never and likely never will occur on the actual show.
I have also read very little in the way of other fanfic - at least,
that was the case before I wrote this. After completing the first draft, I
took a brief glance at some other Batman Beyond fic, and found that my chosen
theme has been done a few times (as I assumed it had) but it does seem that I
have a different take on it than has been done before. The reason I stayed
away from other fic before I wrote this is because I wanted my story to be based
solely on the show, and not be colored by what I had read by other fans.
+++++++++
G-forces pushed Terry McGinnis into his seat as the
Batmobile smoothly took a turn around the Wayne-Powers building. It was an
unusually quiet night in Gotham. So far, Batman's heroic escapades had consisted
of foiling a purse snatcher who gave up without a fight, and reporting a small
fire in a back alley to the authorities. "Pretty
dull out here tonight," Terry said aloud. "And I suppose you're going
to say something like, 'that's when you have to be extra careful.'" "You've
been doing this long enough to have some instincts of your own by now,"
Bruce Wayne replied over the radio. "Perhaps it genuinely is a quiet night.
They do happen every couple of years." Terry
was momentarily stunned - Mr. Wayne didn't usually show such blind confidence in
him. "So, maybe I could come back early?" "So
much for your instincts." Terry grinned -
that was more like it. "Okay, once more around the town." "I'm
going to go off-radio for a bit. If anything does happen, you know how to reach
me." "Roger." Terry brought the
Batmobile up and around for another convoluted flight around the city, glad that
for once that he might have an evening that didn't involve risking life and limb. +++++++++ Two
hours later, Terry left the city as quiet as he'd found it and directed the
Batmobile back toward home. He wondered when he had started thinking of the
Batcave as home. Truth be told, he was far more comfortable there than he was at
his actual home - perhaps because he didn't have the burden of keeping his
secret when in the company of Mr. Wayne. For a moment, Terry's hand hovered over
the call switch, but then he let it drop. Mr. Wayne surely realized he'd be
coming back by now, no point in hitting the panic button just to say that much.
The old geezer's heart could only take so much. The
Batmobile whipped around the cliff's edge, out over the sea, and plunged back
into the mountainside, where it seemed to disappear into solid rock. Merely a
sophisticated hologram, naturally, one of many hidden entrances to the lair of
the Bat. The car's automatic pilot took over in
the tunnel, giving Terry a chance to stretch muscles that were, for once, stiff
from sitting for so long rather than sore from a recent beating. The particular
entrance he'd chosen tonight happened to have a long tunnel approach, as it was
located nearly twenty miles from the main cave. Terry wondered how much of the
tunnel was natural and how much Mr. Wayne had needed to hollow out. If only the
public could have seen the Batcave system, it would be hailed as one of the
greatest engineering marvels of the world - particularly since it had been done
almost entirely by one man. The trip through the
twenty-mile tunnel took barely four minutes for the swift Batmobile. Soon the
craft emerged from the tunnel into the main cave, and settled on the platform
which had once supported a very different Batmobile, the car that had long since
taken its place among Mr. Wayne's extraordinary trophy collection. Terry
bounced out of the sleek hovercraft and pulled off the mask, running his fingers
through his matted hair. He glanced over at the massive computer station - Mr.
Wayne wasn't there. That was unusual. "Mr.
Wayne?" he called. Some real bats stirred from their roost on the ceiling
and fluttered about, screeching their almost inaudible squeaks. "Mr.
Wayne? I'm here!" Silence. Terry
felt suddenly very cold. He ran to the computer
terminal and spun the chair around to make absolutely sure Mr. Wayne wasn't
there. The chair was empty. "BRUCE!!" he
shouted, as loud as he could. This time, he got an
answer - but it wasn't the one he wanted. A high, soft whimpering. It was Ace. Terry
followed the sound, which grew from a whimper to a long and mournful howl. He
ran past the trophy cases that held the paraphernalia of such memorable
adversaries as the
Riddler, the Penguin, Mr. Freeze, Scarface, the Joker. Beyond them were the
Batsuits, the Robin suits, and continuing into the large chamber behind them
where the larger memorabilia were kept: the Batmobile, the half-destroyed
BatWing, the Batsignal. The Batsignal was on. Terry
hadn't even known it still worked, but it apparently did. The light was far
dimmer than it must have been in its day, but it still threw its proud image on
the high ceiling. For the first time, Terry noticed the section of the ceiling
where the signal was pointed had been designed to open - to place the signal in
the clouds? What else could it be for? All these
details he took in in half a second. Then his attention was caught by the form
just below the light. Mr. Wayne. And Ace, standing
guard over him. Terry ran forward, his cry of
alarm unable to squeeze past the lump in his throat. Ace backed away slightly as
Terry reached the side of his fallen mentor, turned him over, felt the neck for
a pulse. There was none. The body was cold and
still. Terry's anguished cries echoed through the cave. +++++++++ "I
knew this day would come soon. I thought I was ready for it." Barbara
Gordon allowed a tear to slip down her cheek. The
body of Bruce Wayne lay on his bed, eyes closed, hands across his chest,
peaceful. Ace
stood guard at his side, his body alert, his eyes betraying his pain. Terry sat
in the large chair by the window, still dressed in the Batsuit from the neck
down. "I'm glad you called," Barbara
added. "I didn't know what else to do,"
Terry replied. "I still don't know what to do - or what I could have
done." "There was nothing," Barbara
assured him. "It was simply his time. Believe me, it was better this way
than it might have been. It was peaceful. There were a lot of times, more than I
could count, that it might have ended a lot worse." "He
tried to signal me," Terry said hollowly. "He had activated the old
Batsignal, and he was going to open the doors so I would see it. I might have
been able to get back in time to save him." "You
never would have seen it, even if he had gotten the door open," Barbara
assured him. "The light only had a thousand-watt bulb in it. Far too dim
for you to have seen from the city." "I
still should have been here." Barbara put a
hand of Terry's shoulder. "He would have wanted you out there protecting
Gotham, not in here being his nurse. Bruce was an old man, Terry. You can stop
Mad Stan from blowing up City Hall, but you can't stop a massive heart
attack." Barbara sighed. "Look, we need to take care of some
unpleasant necessities. You need to get out of that suit, and seal up the
Batcave. I need to get the coroner down here. We'll have to tell him that you
found Bruce on the floor in his study, and carried him in here because you felt
it was undignified for him to be on the floor." Terry
didn't move. "Terry," Barbara said. "If we don't take care of this now, and properly, there might be a push for
investigation. Bruce was very wealthy and powerful, and anything that's not done
by the book could indicate that he has something to hide. Which he does. And it
needs to stay hidden." Terry nodded, and left
the room. At the door, he stopped and looked back at his mentor, his teacher,
his... father. "What will I do without
him?" he whispered, too low to be heard. +++++++++ "Yesterday,
Gotham City lost its leading citizen, Mr. Bruce Wayne, who died at his home at
the age of ninety-three. Cause of death has been reported as a massive heart
attack." Terry muted the TV, allowing the
images to unfold without the distraction of the anchorman's detached voice.
What followed were bits of old stock footage of Bruce Wayne attending
fundraisers, presiding over his business, appearing at various events with
political figures, at one point even shaking hands with the President of the
United States. His life work, as far as the public knew. Nowhere, of course, was
there any mention of his true calling, his real benefit to society. Only a very
select few knew that they had not only lost Bruce Wayne, they had lost Gotham's
guardian angel. "I am Batman." Terry
remembered vividly when he had first spoken those words. But were they really
true? Could he be Batman on his own? How many times had Bruce saved his skin,
compared to how many times Terry had taken care of a crisis on his own? Really
on his own? "Terry?" Terry
didn't look up. "Hi mom," he mumbled. "Terry,
I'm so sorry, honey. I know what Mr. Wayne meant to you." Terry's mother
sat on the couch next to him and offered a one-armed hug. "He
meant more than you know," Terry said. His
mom sighed. "Terry, this is very difficult for me to say, but... since you
couldn't have your real father, I'm g-glad you had someone like Mr. Wayne. He
was as good a man as they come." Terry looked
at his mother, startled. Even though she didn't know, she knew. She really knew
what he had lost, even if she couldn't possibly know the details. He
cried in his mother's arms for a long, long time. +++++++++ "Hey
Terry." "Hey Max." "How
are you doing?" "I've been worse. Just once, though." Max nodded, knowing what
Terry was talking about. "Look, Terry, you know you don't need to keep the
night job. You've already done a lot, and I think the boss would agree with
me." Terry shook his head. "You don't
understand, Max," he said. "Think about what would happen if Batman
disappeared on the same night Bruce died. It doesn't take a genius to see that
there must be a connection. I have to keep doing it, because if I don't, the
secret is out." "Terry, not to be cruel
about it, but so the hell what? Bruce didn't have a family. There's no one for
his enemies to take their revenge against. Maybe he'll even be honored for it,
you can't deny that as many people love him as hate him." Terry
turned to Max. "Max, you're not thinking! Let's say someone does figure it
out. They must realize that Bruce himself isn't the Batman anymore, because suit
or no suit, he was over ninety years old. But they would know he was working
with Batman, and they would know that I was Bruce's personal assistant. Who does
that leave as the most likely candidate for the man behind the mask? And what
happens to my family when that connection is made?" Max
looked at the ground. "I hadn't thought of that," she said quietly. "Well,
that settles one thing, anyway," Terry said, turning on his heel. "Batman makes his rounds tonight." "Terry!"
Max shouted, but he didn't turn back. She watched him stomp away, a frightening
anger and resolution in every step. "Don't you die too, Terry," she
whispered. +++++++++ Terry
leaned hard to the right and felt the wind catch his "wings" as he
whipped around the spires of Gotham City. Only the suit's tensing exoskeleton
preventing him from snapping his neck on the hairpin turns as he made one
reckless dive after another, missing hard concrete structures by inches as he
flew. He'd ditched the Batmobile some time ago, unable to bear the silence
within its cabin. So many times he remembered wishing Bruce would just shut up
and let him be Batman on his own - now, he would have done anything to hear that
gruff, admonishing voice. He paused at the top of
a short-wave transmission tower, scanning the streets below for trouble. He was
itching for it tonight. He almost felt like letting a few choice foes out of
prison just for the chance to whomp them some. Then he
saw what he was looking for. Jokerz. Leaving the usual path of mayhem and
destruction in their wake. Looked like an impromptu street party had culminated
in a massive bonfire. Terry pushed off the tower
and dove under full rocket power. +++++++++ "Hey,
Chucko! I'll bet that would burn pretty good!" Chucko
tossed aside what was left of his pizza, belching loudly, and took a look at
Harpie's latest find. Looked like some kind of gas can. With any luck, it still
had some gas in it. "Let's find out!" he snarfed, and went to pick it
up. This was the best party the Jokerz had had in
weeks - and like all the good ones, it hadn't even been planned. They'd been
schlumping around the unofficial Red Light District, enjoying a few breaking
noises and throwing lines at the ladies of the night. Pretty boring, really. But
then Jocko had found a recent wreck, some kind of hovercraft, that was leaking
fuel, and they'd torched it. Instant party! The
gas can proved really heavy, which was good, as it was probably fully loaded.
Chucko heaved it up onto his shoulders, gave a count of three, and launched it
onto the blaze. It must have broken on impact, as
the fire suddenly flared up like a volcano. The gang cheered even as they
scrambled out of the way of a fire that had instantly grown to three times its
former size. Chucko felt a great satisfaction. Hmm, what was that coming flying
out of the flames? Looked almost like a person - A shattering
impact sent him flying backwards. He felt his ribs snap as whatever it was hit
him with stunning force, sending him tumbling into a car parked at the side of
the street. His head cracked the window and all went dark, but not before he
caught a final glimpse of the glowing, glaring red eyes of the Bat. +++++++++ Terry
had made the most of the element of surprise, launching himself straight through
the flames of the bonfire. The explosion had been unexpected, but so great was
his velocity that he was through the blaze before the suit had even registered
the warmth. The fat clown he hit was down before he'd even seen what got him. The
rest of the Jokerz were still stunned by the sudden turn of events. One of them
had the presence of mind to shout something like, "It's the Batman! Get
him!" but Terry had all the advantage. He leaped like a jaguar at the
nearest clown and struck him once, with all his enhanced strength. He felt the
Joker's jaw crack under his hand. The clown went down. By
then, one of them had jumped on his back. No matter. Terry grabbed the man's
wrist and flipped him over onto the sidewalk, hard. A sudden impact at the side
of his face clocked his neck around, but he barely felt it. Using the momentum from the very blow he'd just taken, Terry whipped around and delivered a kick of
his own to his latest assailant. One of the Dee-Dee twins, he realized in some rational
corner at the back of his mind. His kick connected solidly with the slim girl's
head, and she collapsed.
Another Joker tried to tackle him. Terry leaped from the
clown's grasp and caught him buy the throat, then flexed out a sharp Batarang.
He drew the blade up to the man's neck and - "Terry!
STOP IT!!!" Terry dropped the Batarang,
startled. Had he really just heard Bruce's voice? He
looked around, as if for the first time. The Jokerz were running, those that
still could. The ones he'd already hit were on the ground, not moving except to
breathe. The one he still held in a deadly grip was struggling feebly. Terry
let him go. The clown fell to the pavement, too weakened to do more than crawl
away. He's almost killed him. He might have easily
killed any of them. It wasn't Bruce he'd heard, it
was some rational part of his own mind, snapping him back to his senses. Saving
him from becoming a killer. Terry turned, shaking,
to the bonfire. He stared into its flames for longer than he should have, trying
desperately to make sense of his own feelings, pulling himself together. It was
only the sound of approaching fire-control craft that shook him out of his
reverie. He fired a couple of flame-retardant
bombs into the blaze before taking off into the night. +++++++++ About
an hour later, Terry sat on the roof of Wayne-Powers headquarters, still trying
to sort out his thoughts. Never had he flown into such a rage. Never had he come
so close to killing someone - and doing it deliberately. Bruce would have been
deeply ashamed of him. He had brought dishonor onto the Batman. How
long he sat there, he didn't know. Minutes or hours later, he heard a buzzing in
his ear. "McGinnis?" It
was Commissioner Gordon. Terry sighed - he should have expected this. "Yes,
Commissioner?" "McGinnis, come to my
office as soon as you can. We need to talk." "I'm
on my way." +++++++++ "They're
all alive, in case you were wondering." Barbara
Gordon paced in front of the window through which Terry had just entered. He had
come in quietly, and stood in the middle of the room, not even looking at the
Commissioner. He presented the appearance of a small boy waiting to be punished,
not a superhero. Terry hung his head. "I'm
sorry. I shouldn't have lost it like that. It was wrong of me, very wrong, and
I'm sorry." "I'm more interested in what
you're doing out here in the first place." Barbara sat down at her desk and
looked Terry in the eye until he returned her gaze. "Terry, I've always had
my doubts about whether this city was better off with the Bat back in business,
but they were soothed because I've grown old trusting in Bruce's judgment. Now
you're a fine young man, and you have a good head on your shoulders. But you are
inexperienced, undisciplined, and at the moment you're an emotional wreck.
You're in no condition to take a math test, let alone make split-second
life-or-death decisions as a costumed vigilante." Terry
didn't respond. "Now, I'm waiting to hear
your explanation of what the hell you thought you were doing out there
tonight." Terry finally looked up. "I’m
Batman," he said. "I need to be out there." "Bruce Wayne was Batman," Barbara responded. "You have filled his shoes
admirably, but he’s gone now, and maybe the Bat should go with him." "I’ve
already had this conversation with someone else," Terry said. "If the Batman
dies with Bruce, then someone will guess at the secret. And it’s not just his
secret, it’s mine. And yours, in case you’d forgotten." "I
haven’t forgotten anything," Barbara said, her voice taking on an edge. "I
was battling the likes of the Joker and the Penguin while your mother and father
were busy being born. You can’t do it alone, Terry. And you have no right to
try." Terry stood up straighter. "Maybe I had
no business being out there tonight. It’s too soon. I admit that I made a
mistake. But what would you have me do? If I give up the Bat, I’m putting my
family at risk. I won’t do that." "By
continuing to fly around the city, you’re putting all of its citizens at risk.
I’m warning you, Terry, lay the Bat to rest." Terry
angrily ripped off the cowl and threw it on the desk. "Then I might as well go
out like this and hold a press conference!" he shouted. "And then the Jokerz
and Spellbinder can get together with Mad Stan and every thug in town for a
party at my mother’s place! They’ll have a grand old time wiping out all of
my family and friends. Then they’ll come after you – it won’t be too hard
to guess that someone who was as close to Bruce as you once were must have been
in on it. Everything that he ever did as the Batman will be knocked away in one
glorious stroke as everyone he, you, and I ever made an enemy of comes crashing
down on us! Is that what you want?" Barbara was quiet
for a long time, matching his stare. The she stood up, and faced the
window again. "I think it’s time we had a staff meeting. I’ll ask you to
put the Batsuit in the closet for the next two nights, then meet me at Wayne
Manor Saturday evening at eight o’clock. You can go –" She
turned around, but Terry was already gone. +++++++++ "It’s
all arranged," Barbara told over the
phone the next day. "Tim Drake and Dick Grayson
will meet us there. We’ll all decide what to do." "I
already know their opinions on the subject," Terry said. "They’ve wanted
the Bat to die for years. Why even bother discussing it, it’s a foregone
conclusion." "Look Terry," Barbara said
angrily. "Despite what you may think, we are all on the same side here. And
you aren’t the only one with a family to consider. Now you can show up and
have a say in this, or you can go sulk and we’ll decide without your input." Terry
hung up. None of them would care what he had to say. He was the new kid,
emphasis on "kid." They barely acknowledged his existence - he reminded them all
of a life they'd rather forget. He needed
someone in his court, someone they would respect. Max was out, obviously – he
couldn’t expect they’d even let her stay. And he wasn’t prepared to share
the secret with anyone else, it had to be someone who already knew. He thought
for a long time. Then the answer came to him. +++++++++ "You
have no idea how hard it is to get a hold of you." "I
can imagine." "So, you obviously must have
heard the news." "Yes. I should have called
you myself. I’m sorry." "You’re a busy
man. I understand." "I also heard you went on
your rounds the other night. That was courageous of you. A bit foolhardy, but
courageous." "I was kind of hoping you’d be
on my side for this." "To a point." "You
owe me your life. I’d think that would count for something." "Don’t
presume to exercise judgment for me, Mr. McGinnis. I’m well aware of what I
owe you, but I will make my decisions based on what I feel is the best course of
action." "I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself
lately." "Understandable." "So,
you’ll be there?" "Of course." +++++++++ Terry
arrived at the Batcave through one of the many secret entrances, wearing the
Batsuit, entering the same way he fully intended to enter for years to come - as
the Batman.
Wings and rockets allowed him to drop to a perfect landing on the platform next
to the Batmobile. He whipped off the cowl. "Mr.
McGinnis, I presume?" asked a voice behind him. Terry turned
around and saw a familiar face that he'd never really seen, but if he allowed
for the passing of years, and compared the face to the pictures he'd seen...
"Mr. Grayson." Dick Grayson looked a little older than
Barbara, though Terry knew they were about the same age. His hair was long
and iron gray, tied in a ponytail that hung low on his back. He dressed in
a black overcoat that was years out of style, but which fit him so well that it
looked classic rather than old-fashioned. His left eye was covered by a
black patch. Like Bruce, he walked with a cane - Terry noticed that it
was, in fact, the same cane, and that he wasn't really using it for support,
just holding it. Apparently, Grayson had a point or two of his own to make
about who was in charge now. "I wondered if we would ever
meet. It's unfortunate it had to be under these circumstances." Terry
hesitated, not knowing exactly what to say. Then he said, "I think
Mr. Wayne would be glad you're here." Grayson gave him a
cold stare, as if to say, don't presume to tell me how Bruce felt, I knew him
far better than you. Then he wandered over to the glass cases in which
the suits were enclosed, pausing in front of the Nightwing costume.
"Interesting way to make an entrance," he said, not looking at
Terry. "Something wrong with the stairs?" "Something
wrong with your leg?" Terry shot back. He refused to appear intimidated
by this man, even though that was how he felt. If he was to have any
chance of proving his worth as Batman, he had to show no fear. Grayson
raised his exposed eyebrow at Terry, then smiled - but it was a smile without
much humor. "Bruce's protégés just got more belligerent as time
went on, didn't they?" "The problems you had with him
don't have to extend to me," Terry said, fighting to keep his temper
down. "I'm not an extension of Bruce, I'm my own person. That's
a concept I'd think you of all people would understand." For
a moment, Terry saw anger flare in Grayson's eye, which quickly faded.
"We're here to discuss the fate of Batman, not our relationship with
Bruce," he said in an icy calm voice, and went to take his place at a table
that had been set up for the occasion. Terry noticed he'd left
the cane leaning against the glass cases. He counted that as a victory of
sorts. +++++++++ "Thank you both for coming,"
Barbara Gordon said as she stepped down the stairs into the cave.
"It's been a while, Dick." "Too long, Barbara," Grayson
responded with a warm smile. "You're looking well, under the
circumstances." Terry nodded his greeting at the Commissioner. He
was feeling more like the odd man out all the time. "What about
Tim?" Grayson asked. "Is he on his way?" "He'll be a
bit late," Barbara responded. "He didn't want to come, but I
insisted. I felt we should all be here." Grayson nodded. "How
are you holding up, Terry?" Barbara asked. Her eyes narrowed almost
imperceptibly at the sight of the Batsuit, but she gave no other indication that
she noticed anything unusual about him. "Not too badly," Terry
said. "A bit hard to sleep. I'm not used to having two nights
off in a row." "The crazy hours tend to stick with you," Barbara said. "I can't remember the last
time I was able to get more than five hours of sleep in a given night.
Which is useful for police work." "Speaking of which, I've noticed
the city's behaving itself lately," Grayson mentioned. Terry's eyes
narrowed - he felt that this might be a stroke designed to show that Batman
wasn't needed in Gotham anymore. "I've had my people putting in
overtime," Barbara responded. "Batman's absence is bad for the
crime rate." Terry smirked. "For the short term,"
Barbara finished without even looking in Terry's direction. His smile faded
quickly away. "I'm here," came a voice from the stairs. Terry
turned to look. It was Tim Drake, looking tired and apprehensive. He
hadn't changed much since the last time Terry had seen him, and considering
those circumstances, that was hardly a good thing. "I'm glad you could
come, Tim," Barbara said. "Do we need to do this here?" he
asked. "I should think Bruce's library would do just as well." "It's
for security," Barbara said. "This place is completely shielded
from every known and theorized method of eavesdropping. We'll be
discussing matters that require the strictest privacy. The Batcave is the
best place." Tim nodded, and descended the stairs without further
hesitation - though Terry sensed that it required some effort for him to do
so. He walked quickly to the table and sat down next to Dick Grayson
without another word or a sideways glance. Terry chose the seat across from
Grayson, sensing that in the former Robin he had his most vocal opponent.
Barbara took the fourth chair. "Then let's begin," she said.
"Before we say anything, though, I think we should make one thing
clear. Terry, I need you to answer me honestly. Did Bruce ever say
anything to you, while he was alive, that indicated one way or the other whether
he wanted you to continue being the Batman after he was gone?" Terry felt
all eyes on him. He couldn't lie, not here, not about this.
"No," he admitted. "He never said anything about it." "I
thought not," Barbara said with a nod. "I searched his computer
all day yesterday, and found nothing. Whatever his wishes may have been,
he's left us no choice but to decide on our own what to do, without his
input." "May I?" Grayson spoke. Barbara shrugged.
"This isn't a board meeting, and I'm not the chairman. We're here to
discuss this matter as equally interested parties." "Of
course," said Grayson, "and I think the best way to begin would be for
us all to simply state our opinions at the outset. I think Mr. McGinnis
has already made his opinion clear." "Terry," Terry said. "Excuse
me?" "If we're here to talk about this as equals, Dick, then let's
be friendly. Terry." Grayson nodded in agreement. "And
like you said," Terry continued. "My opinion is pretty
clear. I have my reasons and they're good ones, but I'd like to hear your
position first." "My position, then," Grayson said.
"Batman has had his day. He's done a lot of remarkable good, in my
day and in yours. But Batman was the alter ego of Bruce Wayne, and can't
survive without him. Let him go." Barbara nodded. "I'm
tempted to let him go as well," Barbara said. "But I'm not
completely convinced that now is the time. Terry made some good points to
me the other day, and got me to thinking that maybe we need to let him continue
for a few months longer. Then, we can lay the Bat to rest." There
was silence around the table. "Tim?" Barbara prompted. Tim
Drake stirred. "I don't know," he said. "I don't
think I'm the one to ask." Terry stood up. "Mind if I say a
few words?" "By all means," Grayson said. Terry drew in a
deep breath. "Barbara knows my story. The two of you know
edited highlights at best. Let me tell you a little about what this
-" he indicated the Batsuit "- what this means to me. "I was a
problem kid. Got into a lot of trouble, gave my parents a lot of
grief. I was going nowhere fast. Then I spent a few months in juvy - not the worst thing someone can undergo, but
I saw what it did to my mother, my father, my brother. I saw how I was
ruining them. And so I decided to go straight. "Now before you
think this is all some kind of inspirational bad-kid-goes-good tale, let me tell
you that while this can sound like some cheesy movie of the week when I tell it
like this, it's very real and very hard to really live through it. You've
all faced some dragons in your lives, some of which I'm only beginning to guess
at. But these are my dragons, and you need to understand them to
understand where I'm coming from. "So I'm out. I'm living straight,
but the damage is done. My father doesn't respect me anymore, even though
I can tell he desperately wants to. He was killed before we could sort out
our differences. Murdered. I think that's something that some of us
can identify with." Grayson's face showed no expression. "But by
then, I knew Bruce's secret. I had the means at my disposal for revenge,
and I'll admit that's what I was after. Not justice, but revenge. I
wanted blood. Bruce stopped me, he didn't want the Bat back in his life
either, but then something else happened. He trusted me. He gave me
guidance and help, and I did some good. And as time went on, I felt for
the first time in my life like I was really making a difference, a positive
one. Do you all remember what that felt like? Has it been so long
that you can't recall that feeling of really doing something good?" "This
isn't about making ourselves feel better," Grayson said. "It's
about what's best for all concerned. For you as well as the rest of us. "I
remember that feeling very well," Grayson continued. "But I
learned over time that there are other ways to get it besides dressing up in a
black costume and swinging through the streets throwing Batarangs around.
How many times have you come within a hair's breadth of death, Terry? How
long do you think you can go on before the Reaper catches up with you? We
all beat the odds. You might not. There's a very good chance you
won't." "That's my life, and my chance to take." "Is
it?" Grayson countered. "I've reached the same conclusion you
did, that if the Bat disappears at the same time as Bruce, it's a glaring clue
as to their connection. But it's just a supposition, with no proof.
When you get killed out there - and I say when, not if, because the odds are so
stacked against you it's a virtual certainty - the first thing your killer's
going to do is take off the mask. Then the secret's really out. Then
we're all dead. So don't think for a moment that this is only your
decision, any more than it belongs to any one of us alone. This is not a
case of us against you, no matter how much you might want to think it is." "Dick,
that's enough," Barbara said. "Let's try not to make this
personal." "But it is personal," said Grayson, his anger
beginning to seep through. "This is nothing if not personal.
Have you really thought about the risks involved in this line of work,
Terry? Take a look at this!" He ripped off the eyepatch.
Terry maintained an expressionless face, though it was difficult with that empty
eye socket staring back at him. No, not empty - a clear glass ball.
Barbara had looked away. "This was from Two-Face," Grayson
said. "The details aren't important, but if he'd aimed another
millimeter to the right, I'd be very, very dead. I'm sure Barbara has her
scars to show you as well... and I don't think I need to talk about what
happened to Tim." Tim Drake sat unmoving, staring into the middle
distance as if no one else were even there. "You talk about doing good,
about maintaining the secret, about facing down your demons. Noble
thoughts. But you still haven't faced one-tenth of what any of us
have. And we all had help, from Bruce if from no one else. What
makes you think that you can go it alone, where none of us could? Are you
so superior to the rest of us at this table?" "Bruce went it
alone," Terry insisted, feeling his conviction slide away under Grayson's
assault. "Bruce trained his entire life from the time he was eight years
old," Grayson said. "He honed his body and his mind to a razor
edge, he put in the time to become what he became. And even he needed
help. You, my young friend, are a self-admitted reformed juvenile
delinquent. You've got a magic suit, but that doesn't make you
Batman. Bruce Wayne made you Batman. He's gone now, and I for one am
not willing to take his place for you." Terry was silent. "I know
what you're thinking," Grayson said. "You're thinking that you
haven't asked me to take his place, and how dare I even make the
assumption. Well, let me ask you a few things. What makes you
Batman? I'm not talking about your morals, or your intentions, or your
conviction to do good. I grant that you have what it takes there.
But that just makes you a good and decent person. It doesn't make you
Batman." "Where are you going with this, Dick?" Barbara
asked. "If all you're trying to do is wear down Terry's resolve
-" "I'm trying to point out a few realities to him. Such
as: when is the Batmobile's next scheduled tune-up?" "Huh?"
Terry asked. That question had come from totally out of left field. "All
right, let's try something easier," Grayson continued. "How do
you re-load the system program for that Batsuit? How do you go about
manufacturing replacement Batarangs? What's the formula for the antidote
to the Joker's toxin? And getting back to the Batmobile, let's say it
needed a tune-up tomorrow - do you have any clue how to do it? Could you
even fix a lousy dent in the door if you had to?" Terry was speechless. "Face
it, Terry, you need help. I could give you some, to be sure, but I'm done
playing costumed vigilante, and even if I did want to help you, all this
equipment in here is twenty years past my experience. I could fix that car
in the museum room if I had to, but I don't know how to repair the hovercraft
any more than you do." "I could," Tim said quietly. Everyone
turned to stare at him. Tim looked up. "I could do it," he
said again. "I have the specs, and the knowledge." "What
are you saying?" Terry said. "Are you saying that you would be
the man on the inside?" Tim went silent again. "Tim?" Barbara
prompted. "Terry deserves an answer." "I... I spoke too
soon," Tim said. "I can't do it. I don't want that life
back again. I'm sorry, I had no business saying I could." "What
if we worked together on this?" Terry prompted. "I could be the
man in the suit. Tim, you could keep the equipment. Barbara, you're
the liaison to the police department. Dick, you're in charge. Bruce
is gone, but all of us together can be what he once was!" "Terry,
haven't you been listening?" Grayson said, shaking his head. "We
don't want to do this. We've been there, and put in our time. You're
the only one here who wants this to go on. We want it laid to rest.
I understand that you're a young man with a life ahead of him, but we want that
life behind us. Am I right?" Tim said nothing, but his silence
spoke volumes. "Barbara?" Terry asked. Barbara shook her
head. "He's right, Terry. We want it to end. I'm sorry, I
guess I misled you before. We had our minds made up before we got
here." Terry stood up angrily. "And how do you people intend
to stop me If I decide I want to keep doing it?" "Don't do this,
Terry," Barbara said. Grayson stood up to face him. "You
should know, Terry, that Bruce Wayne specified in his will that this property,
Wayne Manor and its grounds, was to go to me. That means this cave is mine
and so is everything in it. You have the suit, I grant you that, but how
far can just the suit get you? Don't make this harder than it needs to
be." Terry backed away from the table. "So you are all
against me," he said. "We're trying to save your life," Grayson
insisted. "My life is over anyway!" Terry shouted. "How
many times do I have to say this? If the Batman dies on the same night as
Bruce Wayne, it doesn't take a genius to figure it all out! Surely you all
realize that!" Barbara stood up. "I have a suggestion,"
she said. "Let's provide Terry with the support he needs -" she
stared at Grayson, who cut off his own protest "- for six months. He
will continue to make his rounds as Batman, and I'll see to it that he has the
support of the police department so that the risk - and I agree it's still
considerable - is minimized. Then, when the time is right, we send the
suit out on its own. It can be programmed to move by itself. And we
kill it." "Kill it?" Terry asked. "We stage a very
public, very destructive death for the Batman. We blow the suit into
shreds, leaving just enough behind to prove that it was the genuine article, but
not enough to leave any human remains that might have been in it. And
Batman dies. It will be over." Silence around the table. "Are
we in agreement?" Barbara asked. Grayson nodded. "I will do my
part," he said. "Tim?" Tim Drake nodded slowly. "Terry?"
asked Barbara. Terry leaned hard on his hands. "Is it possible that
you all really have forgotten the good that Batman does? How many times
he's prevented this city from going up in smoke? How many individual lives
he's saved? And after all that, you want to kill him?" "It has
to end sometime," Grayson pointed out. "What will you do,
otherwise? Take in a kid off the street when you're too old to continue
on, and the cycle repeats itself? How long can it go on?" Terry
fell silent. "If you refuse, Terry, we'll have to do it without
you," Grayson said. "That means the suit will be destroyed
immediately, not six months down the road. It makes it that much more
likely that someone will guess at the truth. Don't put us all in jeopardy
for the sake of a dream that's past its time." "Can't we at least
discuss it further?" Terry asked. "I think we've all said everything
we need to say. The three of us are in agreement. You've given your
arguments, and we've considered them carefully. There is nothing more to
say." "Yes, there is," said a new voice from the deep shadows
at the back of the cave. Everyone spun around, startled, searching for the
source of the voice. Everyone but Terry, who simply said, "How long have
you been here?" "Long enough," the voice spoke. "Who are
you!" Grayson shouted, his body tensed like a steel coil. Terry could
see the Robin - or Nightwing - in him more clearly than he would have been able
to imagine. Tim Drake, too, crouched at the ready, while Barbara stood
with her pistol leveled at the source of the voice. "Don't worry,"
Terry said. "I invited him." Grayson spun back around to face
him, his eye blazing furiously. "What the hell gave you the right to
invite anyone else to these proceedings!" he shouted. "You talk
about the need to preserve the secret, the honor you find in Batman, and now you
do this?" "It's all right, Dick," Barbara said, her voice
suddenly more relaxed. Dick Grayson turned, and finally got a good look at
their hidden eavesdropper. A man dressed in black, with a stylized white
symbol across his broad, muscled chest. A man who glided down from the
high ceiling of the cave supported by nothing but air. "Superman..."
he whispered. ++++++++ An hour later, the five of them stood
overlooking the ocean, on the cliffside behind Wayne Manor. "Are you sure
this is what you want?" Barbara asked Terry. "It's what I have to
do," Terry said. "I'm just not ready yet. I can't let it
go." "I still think you're making a mistake," Grayson
said. "But I'm willing to go along with it." He sighed,
suddenly looking much older than he was. "I said before that I wished
we'd met under different circumstances," he said. "I wish it
even more now. Forty years ago, I might have called you Friend." "I'm
willing to do so now, if you'll let me," Terry said, holding out his hand. Dick
Grayson shook it. "Batman and Robin shouldn't be adversaries,"
he said with a smile. Tim Drake held out his hand as well. "I'd
just like to say goodbye," he said quietly. "No offense, but I
never, ever want to have Batman in my life again. I'm sure you
understand." "Of course," Terry said, nodding gravely. Barbara
stepped up to him next. "I may wish it weren't true, but Gotham will
miss its crusader," she said. "He'll be around. Just not as
much." "Have a good life, McGinnis." Barbara followed
Dick Grayson and Tim Drake back to their cars. Terry turned to Superman.
"Thank you," he said. Superman smiled. "You have a lot of
conviction, my young friend," he said. "Not much discipline, but
we can work on that." "Don't hold your breath," Terry said with
a smirk. "Well, we have a lot to do. Everything in the cave will
need to be moved, in secret of course. Then the cave will be
sealed." His voice dropped to a lower tone. "You should
know that Bruce asked to be buried there. I've already removed his body
from Gotham Cemetery. We will hold services for him after the cave is
emptied." "I'll be there, of course." Superman's voice grew
hoarse. "We had our differences," he said. "But in a
way, I felt closer to him than any other human being I've ever met. We
shared a kindred spirit. I see it in you as well. Bruce always did
know how to pick his friends." Terry nodded. He thought of the
responsibility he was to shoulder, a duty that he now carried alone. He
had help, and support, but he alone was the Batman now. "To the
Watchtower, then?" he asked, slipping on the cowl. Superman nodded.
"The Justice League is proud to welcome you." The
End End
Notes: This was my first Batman Beyond fanfic. It may
be my only one, I don't know. I have an idea for another story, but it's a
far more complex plot than this one and I may not want to put in the work.
There will be no sequel to this story - I am not interested in writing about the
Justice League. I guessed at Bruce Wayne's age and the history of
Dick Grayson up to the time frame of Batman Beyond. I made other
suppositions throughout the story, but whenever possible I relied on what is
known from the show and drew logical conclusions from that. My
thanks go out to the following people: Bob Kane, for creating the
remarkable character of Batman. DC Comics, Warner Brothers, and
AOL Time Warner for giving him a home. The creators of Batman
Beyond and all the people who work of the show. The webmasters
who are kind enough to post this story. My beta reader (and
beautiful wife) Rachel. For the record, she has no knowledge of Batman
Beyond and so any inconsistencies between the show and my story are entirely my
own fault. Batman, Terry McGinnis, and other characters appearing
in this story are not my creation and are used without permission. This
story, with the words chosen just so and put together in the proper order, is my
creation, Copyright 2002 by Mike Yamiolkoski, and was written without the
intention of making profit. I hereby grant permission for anyone to copy
and post this story on the web as long as it remains unaltered with this notice
intact. E-Mail Mike Yamiolkoski at MikeYamiolkoski@msn.com.
by Mike Yamiolkoski