who: Terry and Clark What:Not dealing with things, and being avoidy. When: The 26th of june. Monday evening. Where: The streets then who knows. Warnings: Being an angry kid doing angry kid things. Generally just not acting smart. Rating: probably highish for dark themes.
Bruce and Zinda were right. He didn't say or dare think things like that lightly, lest one of them somehow catch wind of his thoughts and decide to rub it in later for kicks. Okay maybe that was a little paranoid even for him. But it was true. Terry wasn't dealing, he didn't want to deal with it. Couldn't. Thinking about it was hard enough. Knowing that there was a version of Bruce out there that would disown, and strike him down physically was terrifying. Shook him more than any villain he'd ever faced. Being the Batman he'd faced things not many could ever grasp. That was his job. Be larger than life. A symbol of protection, a fearful name in the underworld. But even the Batman had his limits, and Terry no longer understood where they lie. It was tainted with blood and they just expected him to accept that, after everything Bruce pushed into his head through his intensive and unconventional training.
He felt like poison. Like everything around him could only end in pain and death. Was that the inevitable curse of Batman? The truth behind the cowl? It left him feeling cold and uncertain. Terry walked away from Wayne Manor with all intentions of distancing himself from them. The people he cared about..to save them. A backpack complete with suit thrown over his shoulder and a pair of keys in hand he pushed a motorcycle beyond the gates and toward the street. He didn't really know what he was going to do, where he was gonna go. But he had to clear his head somehow. Get some space and hope it would work itself out. Terry knew what they would all say, that he was just running. None of them had killed their father. None of them watched him die the way he did.
Of coarse he couldn't just leave everything behind. One of Bruce's motorcycles went with him. The same silver and black one he'd grown attached to. The same one Bruce had told him not to touch again. That memory didn't even touch his mind. It might have if he were in the right state. Right now he was far from it. Terry didn't have a license..not even that mattered right now. He wanted to feel something, anything but numb anger and confusion. Speed. Adrenaline. They helped. Even as he put his foot down on the clutch he felt better. Like some of the weight was sliding off his shoulders. For one night he just wanted to be and remember who Terry McGinnis was.
0 to 90 in under thirty seconds. Gotta love secret Bat-technology. Had to be a record somewhere. Terry wore dark clothes, but the hub caps on the motorcycles wheels burned neon red and black. His signature colors before the black and blue. Something he'd taken the liberty to add himself. Customization was key. What Bruce didn't know wouldn't hurt him. He tore through the city until he reached the more dangerous part of town. He didn't hesitate. He was no better than them, the murderers and criminals. Terry had nothing to fear.
There was one point in his life he almost ended up like them thanks to Charlie Bigelow. Or Big Time as he used to call him when they were kids. Big Time was always looking to get to the top of the Gotham crime syndicate. Terry was along for the ride. Now...It was another time, another town. Somehow he still ran into trouble. Maybe it was destiny. A street gang on motorcycles. Obstacles set up in the streets, all over town for racing.
"How much?" Terry said as his motorcycle came to a stop near the small group of mounted riders preparing for a race. He lifted his helmet to a rough looking teenager with black shades and a neon colored mohawk, with a bad eighty's punk costume.
"Half K. " Terry stared. "..seriously?" He shook his head, he knew he was good enough to win back his money, and maybe even then some if they let him keep the mesh. He had some cash thanks to Bruce. He pulled out the cash and started to hand over the money when he heard the racers get to their marks.