Dragonweyr Station

Comics » Batman » Priorities

Author: Circle of Phoenix

Rated: T - English - Crime/Drama - Reviews: 3 - Published: 11-30-13 - Updated: 11-30-13 id:9888986

Disclaimer: Batman, Batman Beyond, Batman of all media types is the rightful property of DC comics and assorted others. This is a fanfiction meant to expand upon my own love of the series in all its wholes. I intend no profit or gain of any sort.

A.N. - Dedicated to my friend Traser SyberJedi, an awesome writer and my beta-pal Mystic 777, another awesome writer. Enjoy their works... And tally-on for the next project of mine.

Without their encouragement I would not have continued with these works.

Chapter One

"Come on, Tiny. This is gonna be fun…" his friend, Charlie 'Big Time' Bigelow whispered. Terry McGinnis, just turned twelve shifted his weight back on his heels. Charlie's large hand clapped the youth on his shoulder, leaning closer to his friend's ear. "No one's actually home, Tiny. The other guys have been casing the place all day."

"I just…" Terry began, wondering if this really was the way to get his parents attention. He didn't really let his thoughts go back to the rights or wrongs of the night's plans. It was just that he knew what was waiting for him back home. More fights, his baby brother's unrelenting crying because of colic, and the disappointment he saw in his parents eyes whenever they looked at him. For months he had been sneaking out with Charlie, meeting up with Charlie's friends, and then getting into trouble. Terry was the youngest and smallest of the group. He was fast enough to pull off their plans in small twenty-four hour convenience stores. Often, he was able to even elude the police or slip away from the truancy officers when he slipped out of school.

Terry's temper had long since had him banished from the dojo where he'd trained for most of his life. His antics hadn't rusted his skills any though. He was just getting better at mixing in the dirtier tactics Charlie's friends used. The strongest difference this evening though…

The Gang was armed with laser pistols.

Terry's heart thundered in his chest when Charlie pressed something slender and sharp into his palms. An old fashioned knife…

"It was my dad's." His friend explained when Terry gave him a questioning look. "The old man doesn't even know it's missing."

Terry let out a breath. He wasn't going to have to handle one of those weapons. "What's the job?" he whispered harshly. He ruthlessly squashed the guilt and shame of his actions when Charlie grinned at him. Charlie, at least was proud of him.

"Good guy." Big Time stated. "Okay, Tiny, we're gonna have you scale the wall, cut the security feeds, and open a window for us. Everyone knows the old ones are loaded with creds. Pocket what you can."

"Sure." Terry answered as he was helped to his full height and twisted to look at the high wall around the building. He was the one who'd open the doors and windows for the others mostly because he would easily fit through the gate bars that barred the rest of the group from accessing the house.

Waving a hand at his friend, the dark haired boy slid towards the back wall of the house where the gap waited. The power grid to the house was just around the corner. His eyes flicked towards the installed security camera that was mounted to keep an eye on the power. Fishing a rock from the ground, the preteen aimed the impromptu missile at the camera's lens and took it out with a single shot. Lowering himself as evenly as he could into the shadows, the boy darted into the dark shadows of the hedge bush, using it's shape to hide he began searching for the other security measures installed.

His mind flashed over all the security grids he knew just waited for people like him and his friends. They were breaking into a rich man's house with the intent to take whatever they could get their hands on.

Terry didn't fool himself. He was smart enough to know his reasons were important only to him. A few extra creds in his pockets wouldn't improve his relationship with his parents or get him anywhere special in the long run. He was realistic enough to know those kinds of things only happened in the movies. Today, his parents had openly spoken of divorce before they realized he was home.

A few more minutes brought him back around, more cameras blinded by rocks or the can of black paint that he had brought with him when he slipped in. Rapping his knuckles on the fence, Terry dodged back the window he thought they could gain the easiest entry and used the edge of his borrowed knife to trip the latch open. It wasn't something people thought happened anymore, but it did. Terry had checked the windows and doors while he made his rounds, slipping easily into the basement would speed the rest of the night along.

"Good job, Tiny." Big Time whispered, his hand patting the smaller boy on the back before he gestured for one of the gang to go in ahead of them. "Follow us up, kid."

"Sure." Terry muttered briefly before smiling. Even if his home life was far from what it used to be, at least Charlie was there.

Priorities Chapter Two ("Ah," the man thought as he noticed a flicker in his camera, "my evening entertainment has arrived." --He proceeds to nickname each delinquent and keep a running tally of their points)

Several seconds passed as the watcher glanced from his cold soup and salad to the monitors and back again in quiet contemplation. He had noticed them early that afternoon, the two boys watching his home with a third coming later and joined towards the later half of the afternoon by a boy that could have doubled as himself when he was the same age. The man dropped the spoon into the bowl with a clatter and then proceeded to click through the monitors the newest and smallest of their group was pushed through the gaps in the fence.

He watched as the boy carefully worked his way through the shadows, taking out the more obvious cameras, however (yet) failing to notice the secondary and backups. The boy paused beside one of the cameras, his hand picking a stray piece of gravel from the ground as he tested its weight in one palm. The boy tossed it aside in favor of another, taking his time to test each piece before he found one that suited him.

'Must have) skipped stones across the bay at one point.' The man thought when the boy used the rock he'd selected to take out the number four camera near the basement window. Camera B-3 picked up the boy's movement from inside the house as he tested the strength of the frame. A finger moved over a switch and the latch fell loose. 'Bait,' (seems incomplete. Perhaps something along the lines of preferring to open it than have his window damaged. Loses points for not considering window alarms or considering how easy it was)

More time passed as the child moved on, continuing to remove the cameras he came across and even at one point checking the type of security grid Bruce had installed at one point to deter the most stubborn intruders, however the system was incredibly out dated. (that once was enough to deter the most stubborn intruders, unfortunately, the system was incredibly outdated.) The dark haired boy seemed to know that as he shook his head. Of course, the boy had not spoken a word since entering the gates and he was no mind reader. The old man interlaced his fingers as the twelve year old (how did he know his age? Perhaps "pre-teen" or pre-pubescent?) made his way back to the fence. Amateurs, he thought, but ones who learned fast. The boy who he had learned was called Tiny by the others was definitely the youngest and indeed the most naive. (this needs a little clarification. Does he think Terry is naïve because he's going along with them? Because the others are talking about him taking the fall?)

He sent in the facial recognition patterns on all four of the children, waiting for the matches to come up as the group of four (you just used four, you can skip "of four") entered the yard. The dog at his feet lifted its head, waiting for a moment before laying back down.

'They'll go for the window.' he thought to himself. The children were always stupid enough not to catch onto the hints. The three eldest of the group slipped in first, the last, the one who opened the path for the rest of them took one last look around before following them. The recognizable evidence of the four of them being armed came from the least experienced intruder. (There are some vague points here. Firstly, he opened the window for them, why wouldn't they take it?? Next, perhaps he should despair that they didn't realize how easily the window latch gave rather than say "hints". Also, you don't really need the part "the one who opened the path for the rest of them" since you already mentioned the elder four going in first. Lastly, for Terry to give away that they are armed, perhaps he should clutch his knife, flick his gaze to the grip of one showing in a friend's pocket etc to give away that they are armed.)

"Foolish." he commented as the boys all took the same stairs together (you don't need together) before parting at the top to head in different directions. The two eldest darted towards the upstairs, probably expecting to find something of value. Long ago, he'd had everything replicated and replaced with cheap counter parts (counterfeits) made from glass and plastic.(perhaps cheap metals too. I had a hilarious idea of the two –who Bruce calls tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum-- finding some brass candlesticks and crowing about them being gold XD) There was nothing of value up there for him to be concerned with. The second to youngest boy, called Big Time or Charlie, depending on the one speaking, moved towards the kitchens. Again, everything of value had been removed and packed away once he started learning under Alfred's eyes before his retirement to cook for himself. (this sentence is a bit odd. Perhaps more along the lines of no longer hosting fancy social functions there wasn't a need to decorate so lavishly, and food for two hardly required the latest kitchen appliances—more sensible to sell the expensive and fragile for the utilitarian ware) Charlie was in for a rude shock of cheap china replica. It might afford him a few dollars at an antique store or make a nice gift for his grandmother, something Bruce was beginning to doubt (the boy wanted) as the smallest boy dropped down into a chair.

The old man lifted a brow at the sight. This was certainly unlike the behavior of the others. As he watched, the boy pulled a phone from his pocket and opened the device. He scrolled through it before suddenly scowling at the item before thrusting it back into his pocket. It would be easy to see what the boy had become so angry about before he was out of his chair and moving towards the library. (wha? I don't get it. Is he hacking the phone, or do you mean the carry on of the "tells" bit? If so, perhaps a clearer way would be: Now that was an expression he was familiar with. Nothing like an adolescent feeling "coddled or stifled" by parental worry.) Now, that was definitely a tell. Bruce had long known of the discontent a minor could feel towards their guardian and the boy's fight with himself had resolved itself into this....

Problems at home then were the boy's motivator. Bruce picked up the phone before sending an auto dial straight to the police.

"911, how may we direct your call?" the operator responded.

Bruce breathed out for a second before speaking. The need to maintain appearances overwhelmed the need to do other things. (like what? Do you mean maintain the facade of an elderly man?) "I need to report a break in at Wayne Manor."

"Thank you, sir. Is this Mister Wayne?"

"Yes." he drawled, switching to look at another camera that was angled to the east wing where the older boys were making a mess of his room. He scowled darkly as a tie Alfred had given him for his last birthday was sent flying.

"And your location, Mister Wayne?"

"I'm in one of the safe rooms." he responded, ignoring the dripping water sound from behind his chair as he spun it too look out over the cave. Safe enough.... "How long will it take to get someone here?"

"Forty-five minutes, Mister Wayne. We've just notified the cars, air support won't be able to move in until they get there. (why not? Again, not sure about the time lag. If he was so far away it wouldn't make much sense for the kids to go there) Would you like me to stay on the phone with you, sir?" the operator asked, her trained voice easily matching his own tone when he responded.

"No, thank you, miss. I'll just wait here for the police to come deal with these hooligans." he answered, his eyes returning to watch Charlie making himself at home and eating his way through a sandwich. Two were bent on destroying everything they could, the third was probably going to sit there and eat before getting bored enough before moving onto something else, (you can end that bit with "getting bored and moving on) and that left the fourth one. Tiny. The little brat that was shuffling through his drawers and books only to replace the items just as he found them. "Hooligans..." (for some reason, it doesn't seem right for him to use that word... dunno why)

"Mister Wayne?" the operator asked, somewhat confused as to why the old man suddenly seemed so... different.

"I'm just watching the security feed, Miss." he responded.

"Thank you, Mister Wayne. I will stay on the phone for as long as you need me to." she said.

"No, I am sure you are quite busy." He said as he placed a finger on the disconnect. "I will call back after the officers come."

After hanging up, he turned up the volume for the camera in the library after the boy had stopped to answer his phone. Several minutes passed before the shouting started (before the boy started shouting) and Bruce gave into curiosity to patch into the conversation. Knowing just what was driving this young man into a life of crime could help deter him from the lifestyle.(divert him from the path) The following conversation was not what he was expecting to hear.

"Terry, Terry..." a woman gasped into the phone. "Listen, baby, it's not your fault. No matter what they tell you... It's not your fault. We, your dad and I, love you very much."

@@

"In his old age, Bruce Wayne, former ladies-man took great amusement in baiting, catching, and turning in petty thieves. Oddly enough, said petty thieves never seemed to pass the word around."--Excerpt from The Life of Bruce Wayne

Divorce. It had been decided over coffee and bagels at 2:31 in the afternoon by mutual agreement. Not because it was something they'd chosen for themselves but for the boys. Terry's increasing disobedience, the hospital bills, even down to the work load had all set the stage. All that had been left was telling their eldest. Shehadsent thefirsttextmessagetotellhimtocomestraighthome.Warrenhadcalledthirtyminutesafterhewassupposedtogetonthepublictransportationwhenhehadn't shown.Anhourafterthatallthreeofthemhadgotteninthecartogolooking.

Thatiswhereeverythinghadgonehorriblywrongintheworld.Nottenminutesfromtheapartmentasinglewrongturnamidsttherepetitivecallstotheirson'sphone hadendedwithacargo-loadbeingoverturnedandcrushingthedriversideofthevehicle.Matt,thepoortoddlerletoutayowlofterrorastheimpactresonated throughoutthefamilyvehicle.Thesnapofboneechoedharshlyasanotherfamilycarslammedintohersideandeverythingdimmed.Warren,herdearWarren,was givinghersuchafunnystare.Mattwasstillcrying.Shecouldheresirensandtheringingfinallystopped.

Terryfinallyansweredandshebeganspeaking.Hisvoiceroseinangerjustlikealways.Butthatwasok."Itsnotyourfault.Don'tletthemtellyouanythingelse..."

Therewasaburningsensationatherlegs.Theofficerfromgcpdgaveheranapologeticlookbeforehewasforcedtoflee.Shepressedherfingerstighteraroundthe deviceinherhand.Healwayswassoangry,soserious,heroldestboy.

"Iloveyou."Shewhispered.