Chapter Text
Gotham looked so different from its rooftops. On the street it was bright with neon lights against dark clouds that never seemed to go away. It was loud and busy and everyone was packed like a can of sardines. Seeing it from the rooftops, it was beautiful. Terry could see people walking and running and dancing around Gotham Square. He could see a block party on Finger Avenue. As the cloud-covered sun set over the city skyline, he saw what seemed to be another vigilante in bright yellow armor climbing through a window, seemingly turning in for the night. No wonder the Waynes have been doing this for so long, Terry thought. The view alone was worth a thousand hits to the face.
Fumbling with the utility belt a bit, Terry pulled out a grappling hook, and shakily aimed it for a satellite on a roof a few buildings away. Slowing his breathing so he didn’t miss, he shot, and the line reeling in sent him flying. The city became a blur of neon colors and his body rushed with adrenaline. It felt as if he was flying at top speed through a wormhole in the universe. It was awesome. He caught the edge of the rooftop as he rushed to it and steadied himself, making sure to prop the satellite up after his force knocked it over and most likely smashed it beyond repair.
“Don’t grapple to satellites,” Terry muttered to himself. “Got it.”
His cowl suddenly buzzed, throwing Terry off guard, and he smashed the comm in his cowl in attempt to make it stop.
“Kid, come in! Where are you?” A voice radioed in. Terry recognized it as the voice of Jason Todd, and groaned.
“I’m about a mile from the railway. I thought I told you I didn’t need help!”
“Yeah, well, that was before Bruce tried to shut your suit down and is probably about to hunt you down in about half an hour,” Jason growled. “So you might wanna hurry up.”
“What?” Terry tried to push down the panic in his voice, but it still leaked out. “I thought he was an old dude who could barely leave the house!”
“He’s still The Batman!” Jason insisted. “And he’s pissed, since I kind of broke the batcomputer and locked him in the batcave to slow him down, so I’d get your ass to the railway a little faster.”
“You broke the—whatever, hurrying up. Got it.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let that happen.” The voice came from above, and a figure dropped down in front of Terry, straightening his stance to reveal the bright blue symbol of Nightwing.
“Right. Shit. He has kids who respect him,” Jason fumed. “How much do you like the way your face looks right now, because it’s probably not gonna be the same after tonight.”
“Bruce sent me to stop you.” Dick Grayson explained, a bit of sympathy sewn into his voice. “I don’t want to fight you, Terry. But that is not your suit and this isn’t your fight. You can come with me now, and we can pretend like this never happened.”
“Hypocrite,” Terry could almost hear Jason’s eye roll through the comm line. “Oh I’m Dick Grayson, I’m gonna beat up Terry just because he stole a suit that could technically kill someone with enough force!”
“Will you shut up?” Terry whispered angrily as he kept his gaze on Nightwing.
“Not if you wanna win this fight!” Jason chuckled. “Dick’s my big brother, I’ve fought with and against him hundreds of times! I can guide you through this.”
“I don’t need your help!” Terry shouted, partly to Dick and partly to Jason, before fully turning his attention to Nightwing. “And you’re wrong. This is my fight. Powers killed my father, and he could kill a lot more people with those weapons!”
“And he could continue killing if this plan of yours falls through,” Nightwing growled. Were his muscles bigger than they were five seconds ago? Or was the look on his face just making him scarier? “And if you won’t stop willingly, I’ll have to stop you by force.”
Dick reached over his back and pulled out two black sticks that sparked to life with electricity. He charged at Terry, but he had the reaction time to duck and radio in to Jason.
“Okay, I still don’t need your help, but some light guidance would be appreciated!”
“Call it whatever you want,” Jason laughed. “Alright, Dick has been trained since he was eight, he’s a powerhouse of a fighter. But he’s usually fighting with a team, being on his own is a weakness here. He’s impulsive too, if you can get him to make one wrong move you could just barely get away.”
Terry dodged again, and threw a punch to the gut, which didn’t seem to do anything. Losing his balance a little, he grappled with a batarang from his utility belt to be prepared. “I’ve got an idea,” he radioed in.
“Go right ahead,” Jason snickered. “We don’t have much else to go off of here.”
Terry took a hit to the ribcage which, if not for the suit, would have probably broken several things. Regaining his footing, he took a gulp and started to carry out his plan, dancing to the edge of the rooftop.
“Are you crazy?” Dick yelled at him. He charged, expertly stopping before the edge and throwing his stick at Terry, which hit him right in the chest. An electric shock rushed through his body, and, against his will, he let out a yelp of pain, but didn’t let it stop him. He blindly threw the batarang, which by some miracle hit Nightwing in the head, then took the grappling hook and dashed behind him and threw the hook, which wrapped around Dick’s ankles, throwing him off balance. Terry shook off any fear or apprehension he was harboring, and kicked Nightwing in the back, sending him over the edge of the building, and hooking the other side of the grappling hook to the edge.
“Wow,” Jason mumbled, impressed. “That was… quick. But that’s gonna hold him for, like, a minute tops. You’ve got a spare grappling hook in the belt, so get the hell out of there!”
Terry obliged, and before he could think, he was flying
To the street. “I can take it from here.” He grunted. The railway was in sight, and he had about 20 minutes to reach the cargo before those weapons were unloaded and taken to Powers, or worse, distributed all over Gotham. He couldn’t let anything else distract him.
“I wouldn’t be so confident,” Jason remarked. “I’d duck if I were you.”
The heads up were greatly appreciated, as Terry ducked just in time to avoid his head getting chopped off by a sword.
“He’s not supposed to have those!” Jason added. “They probably have some kind of buffer on the blades, but knowing Damian, he’ll probably find a way to make it hurt more.”
“Real comforting!” Terry yelled into the comm as he spun around to face the attacker. A man, who had to be at least 6 feet tall, stood in a domino mask and flowing green and gold robes. “You mind explaining to me why the guy with swords is after me?”
“Damian, he’s Bruce’s bio son. Raised by a death cult to become the most lethal child ever, Y’know, the usual.” Jason explained.
“No! Not the usual! There is nothing usual about this situation!” Terry screeched as Damian swung at him again, and Terry realized in horror that the sword was one of two, now pointed at his chest.
“You intrude into our home,” Damian barked. “You steal my father’s technology, you challenge our family!” Terry backed away, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “If you won’t surrender, I will present your head to my father as a gift!” Damian charged, and Terry ran out of the way.
“You didn’t tell me about this guy!” Terry whisper-yelled at Jason.
“You took the suit, I kind of just assumed you were ready to die for the cause!” Jason argued.
“Just tell me how to not get killed before I’m old enough to drive!” Terry spat as he ducked and threw a batarang, which Damian blocked flawlessly.
“Okay, okay. Damian’s all talk, for one thing. He won’t break the old man’s no kill rule, especially on a teenager, but he’s also not above fighting a teenager.”
“Alright, but I still need to get to the railway! I’m so close!”
“Todd is an unreliable source of information!” Damian yelled as he swung again.
“You think I don’t know that?” Terry yelled back as he pulled out another batarang and blocked the sword in its path, which seemed to surprise Damian.
“Sure, Dames was raised by the League of Assassins for ten years, and then the literal Batman for another ten, but he’s been retired for a while now, he’s been a doctor for eight years.” Terry was trying his best to listen to Jason, but it was a bit hard when two swords were being swung at his head.
“Great! He’ll be able to perform my autopsy at the end of this!” Terry replied.
“He’s rusty. Not to mention overconfident. That’s a good combination for you! You’ll have to catch him by surprise.”
“Cool! Now give me a plan that’s actually feasible!”
“Dude, even I haven’t hoodwinked Nightwing as fast as you did. You’ve got serious street smarts, you just have to learn how to apply them! Look, I wouldn’t have let you out in that suit if I didn’t think you had enough moxie for the job! Plus, Bruce’ll make me clean out the blood from your suit, so don’t fuck this up!”
Terry didn’t know whether to be appreciative or worried, but he decided to at least give it a shot. He ducked and dodged the swords and watched their paths closely. He took a look down at his gloves and wondered just how much ch pressure they could take. The next swing Damian took, Terry was ready. He braced himself, and grabbed the first sword by the blade, then the other. He pushed them up over his head, and the wide-eyed look on Damian’s face was just the in he was hoping for. Terry jerked the swords downward, effectively ripping them from the assailant’s hands. He pointed the handle of the weapon at Damian, who looked more confused than anything.
“Who grabs a sword by the blade?” He finally exclaimed. “Are you insa—I’m realizing who I’m talking to, of course you’re insane!”
Terry stood, stunned for a moment. “…Did I win?”
“You just—ya Allah, how did I lose against you?” Damian seemed even more confused than just a few seconds ago, still obviously with his guard up but giving Terry a look of pure bewilderment.
“So I won?”
“You know what? Sure! I’d try to stop you for your own good but I’m genuinely surprised you made this far in life! Give me those!” Damian grabbed the handles of his swords and pulled them away from Terry. “I get why Todd likes you, you’re both shit at fighting but crazy enough to still win!”
“Is that a good thing?” Terry asked snarkily.
Damian stood, stunned for a moment at the question, and took a breath. “Unfortunately, it’s an excellent thing.”
Terry barely had time to blink before Damian disappeared into the shadows. A little stunned himself, all Terry could think to do was look down at his hands, which he realized were bleeding.
“Sorry,” Terry radioed to Jason. “I got blood on the suit.”
“With the rate you’re going at, you can wash it out yourself!” Jason cackled. “Goddamn, what shade of red did his face turn when you grabbed the blades? God that’s hilarious!”
“His face kinda turned a, like, strawberry color, I guess?” Terry answered.
“Eh, I’d say he more resembled a tomato.” A voice behind him joked. Terry whipped around to face a woman in a black and gold suit and a mask covering her entire face, seemingly stitched haphazardly together. Her body language was more playful than on guard, which was a first for the night.
“Oh shit,” Jason gulped. “That’s Cass. She has no weaknesses. Nice knowing you.”
“What?” Terry screeched back as he readied three more batarangs in his hand.
“Relax, kid. Unlike my… brothers, I don’t fight children.” The woman named Cass sighed. “Especially untrained children who just took down two of them.”
Terry relaxed a little. “Thanks. It’s a nice change of pace.”
“I can imagine,” Terry could tell Cass was smiling under her mask.
“You saw all that?” Terry questioned.
“I’ve been trailing you since you left the cave. I wanted to see what we were dealing with. You’ve got… spunk. Your technique is horrible, but not beyond repair. You could be a real powerhouse with proper training.” She pointed out. “I’m not going to stop you, but since dad told me to ‘deal with you’ I’ll at least warn you. Powers’ henchmen aren’t going to be as nice as us.”
“Yeah, tonight was a great welcome to the club.” Terry replied, rolling his eyes under his mask.
“I mean they won’t hold back. They don’t care who you are, what your goal is, and they most definitely don’t care what age you are. I believe you can achieve the vengeance you are looking for, but not in one night. You can become a proper vigilante with good training, but as you fight now, this mission of yours is exponentially more dangerous.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Terry answered. “I don’t expect to take down Powers tonight, just stop one thing that could hurt Gotham even more because of him. I can’t stand down, not now. I need to prove to all of you, to your old man, to myself, that I can make this difference.”
Cass paused, thinking for a moment. “You are on a journey for yourself. That is a noble goal. A dangerous goal, but a noble one. I understand it well. I cannot in good faith stop you now, I only ask that after tonight you get proper training.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” Terry smiled. “Thank you.”
“I will still be in the shadows,” Cass warned. “I’ll step in if you need me, but if you can handle yourself, which I have little doubt you will, I won’t have to.”
“That’s actually more comforting than anything Jason has said to me all night.” Terry admitted.
“Oh! Yes, Jason,” Cass remarked. “Jason, if you can hear me, just as a heads up, you’re second on Bruce’s list after this kid. I’d honestly get out of Gotham for a few days.”
“Rodger that, sis.” Jason groaned. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“You should get going, I believe your cargo just pulled in.” Terry looked to the railway, and, sure enough, the dinky little train had arrived. He turned back to thank Cass again, but like Damian, she was gone within the blink of an eye.
“Do you all do that?” Terry asked Jason.
“Some are better at it than others.” Jason replied. “You okay with me leading you through your big ‘journey of self discovery’?”
“I want to prove myself, but I still want to keep my bones intact if I can!” Terry snickered and he snuck his way to the compartment and watched two henchmen carry out suspiciously unmarked crates. “You’re not not doing the fighting. But I think I’d rather have her as a mentor”
“I can’t even blame you for—“ the comm crackled, and suddenly, as a feeling of panic washed over him, went dead. Jason was cut off.
“Howsit?” A tired voice came from where Jason’s voice once was.
“Who are you and what did you do to my comm?” Terry spat, lowering his voice to try and sound more intimidating.
“Relax, kid. I’m doing you a solid. I figured if you didn’t have a devil on your shoulder talking into your ear, you’d come to your senses and go home.”
Terry paused. “What’s your motive? You work for Powers or Br—Batman?”
“I don’t work for anyone. Well, I used to work with Bruce, but not anymore. I just heard through the grapevine from my brothers what you got up to. I figured they’d be too easy on you.”
“Brothers? Who are—“ Terry raced through everything he’d learned about the Waynes and the history of Gotham, and something Jason said about Wayne Enterprises…
“Tim?” Terry asked. “The Wayne Enterprises CEO?”
“I’d prefer to be called Mr. Drake when children visit the office, but I’ll let it slide seeing as I hope to never see or hear from you again.”
“Jeez, you must’ve been a treat to fight crime with.” Terry grumbled.
“I mean that you need to go home.” Tim sighed. “Turn the stolen suit in, go back to school and live a normal life. This isn’t a game, McGinnis. Go back to being a teenager before this gets out of hand.”
“Sorry dude, but you don’t make a very compelling argument. I’m going to make an educated guess and say you were a teenage vigilante too, so really all I’m hearing is blah blah blah blah—“
“Not anymore.” Tim cut him off. “For a reason. If you go in there, you won’t have any guidance. You’ll get hurt. Go home before you find out what this job really entails.”
The comm crackled out and went dead. For a split second, Terry thought over his options. Fight and most likely lose, or go home and prove he can’t change anything. He’ll wake up tomorrow and Gotham will be a little more dangerous because of Powers. Knowing that more people could get hurt and that he could stop it, but chose not to. He could barely live with what he’d already done in the past, he couldn’t let that happen. No one would end up like Terry’s father on his watch. He could live with a few broken bones for that.
Terry creeped around the area and watched the henchmen bicker about who was doing all the work. As silently as he could, he climbed onto the top of the train in the cover of shadow.
“Well, if you were doin’ all da work, why’d I get the promotion then?” One of the henchmen spat at the other.
Terry could barely contain himself before the words left his mouth. “You get promotions for this? What’s this stuff to you, a regular 9 to 5? Or is lugging around crates of dangerous weapons just a part time gig?”
Admittedly, Terry found the wild twisting and turning of the men as they dropped their crate and looked around for his voice.
“Who said that?” The other henchman demanded, a slight quiver in his tone.
Terry took the opportunity to jump down from the train’s roof and kick him square in the face.
“Guess.”
Terry turned, just in time to swerve away from the path of a bullet headed straight to his chest. The other henchmen stood, shaking, holding a gun at Terry’s head.
“Y-you’re not Batman!” He shouted. “Get da hell outta here, or I’ll shoot!”
A swift batarang to the gun knocked it out of his hands and sent it flying about 12 feet away.
“You just brought a gun to a batarang fight, buddy.” Terry bit back laughing at his own mediocre joke. This wasn’t a burly Jokerz in a closed space like the Atrak, or vigilantes that had been training since before he was born. These guys were just like the dudes Terry would’ve been caught with just a year ago, and knowing their type gave him an advantage. He didn’t need Jason for this.
As quickly as he had come, Terry had the henchmen stapled to the side of the train with a few batarangs and was pondering what to do with the weapons now.
“You know where these were going by any chance?” He asked the guys, jokingly making some small talk.
“Probably to the same warehouse we’re gonna send your spare parts,” a voice growled behind him.
“Will people stop sneaking up behind me tonight?” Terry complained as he whipped around to face the voice.
Three armored personnel pointed their own guns at Terry, but he didn’t back down. These guys were in a completely different league, but he didn’t realize exactly how different until the punches flew.
The suit, he thought. He hadn’t noticed in such an easy fight, but it was clear now: when Tim broke off the comm connection, he’d shut down all the technology in the suit. Terry was in nothing but a glorified onesie now. It didn’t take much in that state for the guards to knock him to death he ground and pin him, and he watched the gun heat up as the head guard slowly pulled the trigger. A part of him was a bit proud, proud this was how he was going out. Maybe his disappearance would turn some heads, make people start doubting Powers. At the very least, he hoped maybe the bats could stop Powers if they could tie his disappearance to Powers Inc.
But before the gun could go off, the head guard was pinned to the ground, and the two others were headbutted together, falling onto their backs. Above him, Terry looked up at Cass, dusting her hands off like she had only been doing handiwork and got a bit dirty, and the original Batman, who’d just saved his life.
“I’ll take them to the GCPD,” Cass informed her father. “Probably still won’t be enough evidence to convict Powers, but it’ll at least get these guys behind bars.” Bruce nodded in agreement, then turned to Terry as she rushed off, with the three armored guards, now knocked out cold, over her shoulders.
“How’s the suit?” He asked in a gravelly voice. Terry noticed that while the suit he usually wore, the one Terry had on now, was black and grey, the suit he was wearing was blue and gray. He smirked a little, imagining The Batman jumping around in his underwear trying to find a spare suit, but he kept his mouth shut about it.
“I’m not loving the cape.” He admitted.
“You did… surprisingly well against my oldest and youngest. Black Bat and Red Hood have astounding faith in you. That doesn’t give you the right to that suit.”
“Eh, not really my style anyway,” Terry shrugged. “Are you offering me a new one? Cause I think some red accents would really make the black—“
“I stopped training vigilantes long ago, kid. I’m not really the man to ask.” Bruce interrupted. He sounded tired.
“Ca—Black Bat said she’d train me! Red Hood literally led me through the city!”
“I’m giving you one last chance—“
“No! Listen Bats, Gotham is overrun with crime these days! Powers is running this city into the ground, and I will stop at nothing to serve him justice. You don’t get to tell me what to do, ya hear? You’re not going to stop me.”
“Even in a powered-down suit?” Bruce questioned.
Terry hesitated, but put his leg back and his fists up, readying himself. He was going to show Bruce that he wasn’t kidding.
But then something unanticipated happened. At the corner of Bruce Wayne’s mouth, ever so slightly, ticked upward.
“Black Bat was right. Your stance is abominable. But I can see her whipping you into shape, even with only a few days in Gotham a month.”
Terry was taken more off guard than he would’ve been if Bruce had actually tried to fight him. “Wait, huh?” And “what?” Were all he could get out.
Bruce turned his head toward a black blob on the rooftop of a nearby building. It was Cass, probably back to properly dispose of the weapons, and letting Bruce know he was good to leave. He took out his grappling hook and gestured to Terry to aim his at the same point. Soon enough, they were flying through Gotham together, and as they landed on rooftops and street corners and shadows, they talked.
“I see something in you I have seen in every one of my kids,” Bruce explained under a streetlight. “I doubt there’s any teenager who doesn’t have it. An inherent want for change.”
“Change would be welcome after the past few years. Past few days, actually.” Terry responded while climbing onto a gargoyle, aiming his grappling hook to the sky.
“Not personal change. A change in the world. A change in the way broken things work. You want to fix things those before you couldn’t. I see very few take action to do that. I see even less succeed. Tonight, you managed to do both.”
“I wouldn’t really say I succeeded. You guys ended up doing most of the work.”
“You kept going. Even after everything you went through tonight, you stood up against The Batman and were ready to fight for your place.” Bruce turned away, hiding his crooked smile. “That’s success. And that impressed me. Besides, all my children are adults. They can train whoever they so please! I was more worried about this.” Bruce pointed to the bat on Terry’s chest as they approached the back entrance of the batcave. “When you’re wearing that symbol, you’re representing my legacy. You’re representing the legacy of everyone who's worn it. I needed to know you could live up to the symbol. I was pleasantly surprised.”
Terry’s chest puffed up a little, and a sense of pride washed over him as he ran into the batcave.
“You also stole my shit.” Bruce said in a much more menacing tone. “And I'll be taking it back to make a point.”
“Understandable.” Terry agreed. “I don’t have to pay for the broken computer though, right?” He pointed to the shattered screen of the batcomputer.
Bruce stifled a laugh, clearly trying to keep up a tough guy persona, which vanished the moment he took the cowl off. He had gray hair peppered with white strands and bags under his eyes from sleepless nights. He had smile lines and frown lines, and worn skin from years under a mask. He looked more like an overworked grandpa than The Dark Knight.
“No, that’s Jason’s problem.” He snickered.
“So, what’ll my vigilante name be?” Terry asked, still on his high from his action-packed night. “I don’t think I’d fare well as a Robin, not into bright colors. How about something like ‘Gotham’s Revenge’ or ‘The Destructor’! Something cool, y’know?”
“How about Batman?” Bruce offered.
“What?” Terry stopped in his tracks. “Then… what would you be?”
“An actually retired man. The kids have been asking me to retire lately, and I have to admit, though I hate to, that I can’t… do this. Not forever. And if someone like you is out there, who can be trained by the best fighters I’ve ever seen, I don’t think I need to.”
Terry removed his cowl, finally looking back at Bruce unmasked, face to face, eye to eye. “Are you… sure?”
“McGinnis, when I started this, I thought I was really doing something, really changing the world. It didn’t take long to realize that the best thing I ever did was train the best vigilantes I know.” He gestured to a small picture taped to the side of the broken batcomputer. In the middle, it was nearly the same as the portrait upstairs he’d seen when he first came to the manor. The same people in nearly the same poses, except with super suits and masks adorned. Then there were the rest. There were at least five new people, but he’d have to see the original again to make sure. There was a man in a fully metal batsuit, another in bright yellow armor, the same he’d seen at dusk. There was a woman with blonde hair and half her face covered in a purple suit. There were two other women, both with red hair but in starkly different shades. One was sitting in a wheelchair and had rectangular glasses while the other rivaled Bruce in size and muscle, but wore a much more confident grin.
“Tough kids. Like you.” Bruce remarked. “I’ve done a lot in my career, but they’ve accomplished things I couldn’t dream of. Maybe I was worried that if I retired, it would just prove I couldn’t do anything else. That I’d run my course. I forgot my greatest accomplishments are still out there fighting. And more can join them.” He turned to Terry, and he addressed him seriously. “But while you wear my symbol, you work for me. Any of the others can train you, but in the field I make the final call. This isn’t an after school activity, this is dangerous work. I need to know you’ll listen to us. Are you prepared for that?” Bruce outstretched an arm to Terry.
Terry paused. He didn’t have the best track record with authority in the past, but he didn’t have to tell anyone that. He also didn’t have to tell anyone about the fact that he most definitely wasn’t going to take orders from anyone unless it was literally life or death (which, to be fair, it was probably going to be). He looked up and took Bruce's hand, shaking firmly.
“There’s nothing I’d wanna do more.”