Beyond (Incomplete Draft)

The black car glided almost silently down the street, the discordant neon signs trying desperately to brighten it up to little effect. It only had to put up with this assault of light pollution a moment longer, as it turned into the underground garage of the most prestigious hotel in town. There was no need for a lengthy quest to find a space to park in, the car's owner had arranged all this in advance. It reversed gracefully into a spot right next to the pedestrian exit, and what little noise it emitted died away. The driver stepped out, his black hair a little tidier than usual, and fidgeted a little against the contours of the suit he wasn't used to wearing just yet. Oh well, he wore weirder on a regular basis. The pale young man walked round to the passenger door. He didn't need to do anything, the door opened by itself. Out of habit he offered a helping hand, and saw it ignored as his elderly passenger got out and to his feet, taking his cane with him.

"What level d'you say this was happening at?"

"Top floor. Penthouses."

"Okay, got it."

The two entered the elevator room, the harsh bare concrete switching suddenly to mock-oaken panels and marble columns with gold attachments at both the ceiling and floor, a dissonant attempt to overwhelm the visitor with the undeniable luxury of the hotel. In many ways the concrete was a more honest representation about where the hotel was. After patiently waiting in silence for a minute an elevator arrived, and the driver pressed the 'P' button at the very top of the control panel. Soon they could look out over the dark skyline of the financial district as they rose higher and higher.

"I'm still not sure what you're doing here, Mister Wayne."

The wrinkled face looked over stoically. "Why's that, Terry?"

"I know it's been nonstop since you picked up the reigns of your company again. A lotta guys wanting to talk with you about what Wayne Enterprises can do for them. And most of 'em either come to your office or your house to bend on one knee. Kinda funny, actually."

Bruce's expression didn't agree. "Not all of them make their pitch there, a few feel like they can't talk business unless surrounded by money. You've chauffeured me to some of these hotel conferences already."

"Yeah, but they always foot the bill for it, like they're trying to impress you. Why are you putting this meeting on your own dime?"

He grunted a little. "Couldn't dodge the tab forever, it had to be my turn eventually. But you're right, these prospective clients are a special case. Besides, word leaked out they were looking to speak with me and it's snowballed into a fullblown convention. LexGraves threatened to sue us if they weren't allowed to make their pitch. Maybe you'll understand when we get there."

Terry frowned slightly. "Still not gonna tell me anything about them? No advanced warning?"

An ancient smirk of amusement appeared. "When have I ever given you advanced warning? You have to stay on your toes, McGinnis."

"Right. Of course."

A pleasant chime announced the end of their vertical journey, the vista ceasing to reveal more of Gotham City. The decoration of the corridor they entered had a much more unified vision than the raw wealth on display downstairs. If you could afford a room here, you didn't need to be swayed with tacky gold fixtures. Plain blue carpet complimented white plaster with a few tasteful textures to break up the monotony. Equally white doors had golden handles and numbers to show the entrance to each suite. As normal when Terry escorted Bruce to such meetings, the two walked side by side, each having just enough stubbornness to not follow the other, at least in private.

"This is it. Suite 201-X."

There was a reluctantly impressed whistle. "Aren't they more like houses? That's a lotta creds, boss."

"Blame LexGraves for expanding the guest list."

Terry opened the door, and for the first time since arriving took the lead. It allowed him a moment to take in the palatial abode. A large open space that blended kitchen and dining room and living room, with more glass than wall allowing access to a balcony for another magnificent view of the skyline. Individual steps appeared to levitate as they lead to an upper storey and the bedrooms. His Mom's apartment wasn't as big as this place, and on this occasion the space was justified. Terry had seen a few of these guys – and they were mostly guys – before on previous negotiations, but many faces were new. While some were availing of the hors d'oeuvres the only three people close to Terry's age were serving up, the majority were engaged in conspiratorial muttering. No doubt they were planning for how they'd win whatever the prize of this gathering was, and then how to snatch it from each other. The plotting faded away as the door closed behind Bruce, perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary, and a few heads turned just in time as Terry stepped aside to reveal his boss.

"Bruce!"

"Mister Wayne!"

The babble of voices soon lost cohesion, but the sudden air of charm from half the room couldn't be missed. For many people Plan B was clearly hope that Wayne Enterprises would throw them a few scraps. That was a lost battle before it began. Bruce had been in the charm business since before many of them were born, and could pick up on the lack of underlying sincerity like whether the lights were on. A waiter approached them with a tray of drinks. Among the champagne glasses were two glasses of orange juice which had been arranged in advance. Both were not the right age for alcohol. Taking their drinks, the coalition continued to make their pitches as Terry made to look like he was guiding Bruce to a seat. The first words Terry picked up on came from one of the few women in the room in a faux-neo-retro business suit with aggressively broad shoulder pads. She brushed golden hair out of her face with ease.

"Bruce!" She held out her hand. "Dad sends his regards."

He took it briefly. "Olivia. I assume Queen Industries are hoping to change his mind?"

"Of course! Our partnership's done amazing things, it would be a shame to let them go after all this time. Unless," she lowered her voice a little, confident the chatter would hide her words. "Wayne and Queen join forces. Like the old days."

No stranger to secrecy, Terry registered the hidden meaning in her words, even if there was no context to make sense of them. Bruce remained non-committal, but then that was his stance on everything. Seven or eight other men then politely muscled her aside to brag or charm Bruce into either taking Wayne Enterprises out of the running or commit to a partnership. They were as effective as Olivia had been. A few continued plotting among themselves, either too stubborn to beg or too smart to bother trying. Terry allowed the babble to tune out and looked over at the waiters now huddled near the wine rack, each showing the others their cred cards and not looking pleased. The tips must have been lousy tonight. Before he could conclude how cheap the business community must be, the waiters became the first to look up at the stairs in a mixture of surprise and bewilderment.

"Ah," said Bruce, "that's them."

At his words, a wave of silence spread out from him as everybody else looked where the waiters were looking. Terry finally followed them.

"What-?"

A hand clamped tightly around his wrist. Bruce was using him as a support to get to his feet again. It was also a signal to be quiet.

It was the size that captured Terry's attention before anything else as he watched the figure descending the stairs. A wall of purple easily seven feet tall and probably taller with a broad frame to match, his tunic complimented with an embroidered emblem, looking like he stepped out of a history book. Helping the anachronistic look was the matching cape draped around his shoulders, and it was capped off with a crown. And then the other features registered with Terry. The white fur, the massive horns, the long floppy ears, the bare furry feet, the fangs that broke the illusion of a goat approaching the crowd, and the golden mane of hair with large streaks of grey at the same level as his purple eyes.

"Howdy!" he called, his voice deep and cheerful. "Nice to meet you all."

As he reached the ground level, Terry finally realised there was a second figure behind this King or whoever he was. There was no mane, the horns were shorter and his eyes were green, but he was from out of town too. Upon reaching the same level as the King, it was clear he wasn't quite as tall or as broad, though still stood above everyone else in the room, and in stark contrast to the King he wore a brand new suit, looking as comfortable in it as Terry felt in his. It didn't take long for them to be accosted by whoever had been lucky enough to stand by the stairs, the king shaking hands enthusiastically while the other creature did so with a bored air. None of the guests were intimidated by them, or at least they hid their nerves in pursuit of whatever the prize was. Respectful greetings of "Majesty" or "Sir" repeated themselves without stopping.

"What are they," whispered Terry, "splicers or something?"

"No. They're monsters."

"Monsters? Oh, from Mount Abbot."

"Ebott."

"Right, Ebott."

Like most places, Gotham's education curriculum reserved space to tell children about some of the more public facing adventures that superheroes had undertaken. It was inevitable that Superman discovering a whole race and peacefully revealing them to the world would be part of this. Not that Terry had paid much attention in class that day, he'd been watching a vidcomic smuggled inside his textbook. He did vaguely remember something about a king and how most of them still lived near that mountain, though a few had popped up on the news from time to time in other places. Never Gotham however. These two were the first Terry had seen in the flesh. Well, after everything else he'd met or fought they seemed rather benign.

"You did business with them, back in the day?"

Bruce smirked. "You're getting sharper. Setting aside their natural abilities, they had a lot of interesting technology they had assembled from scraps. Kent asked me to offer them an R&D partnership as a favour, stop the likes of Luthor from exploiting them and probably trying to use them against Superman or something. Before I announced my retirement, I divested that partnership to Queen Industries."

"Why?"

"Do you think Derek Powers would have treated them equitably?"

Terry grimaced in disgust. "Good point."

"Ah, Bruce!"

The King had spotted them. Politely disengaging from the CEO of LexGraves, he guided the other monster through the crowd towards Terry and Bruce. A large clawed hand was outstretched, and Bruce's was almost swallowed by it as they shook.

"So good to see you! It's been too long. You're looking well."

"Asgore," he said, keeping on point. "You're.." he glared briefly at the copious amounts of golden hair he still had. "Looking well too."

"Thank you! And of course you remember Asriel.."

The shorter monster stepped forward. For the first time the bored air around him faded, as he replaced his father's hand with his own. "H-hello, Mister Wayne," he said.

"I see you carried out your threat to grow taller than me."

To Terry's surprise, Bruce was actually smiling as they shook hands. Asriel looked a little embarrassed and fidgeted with his ear as he recalled whatever childhood encounter produced that anecdote. Terry was so focused on the two greeting he didn't notice something clasping his wrist again.

"Hello, young man!" said Asgore. "Is this your assistant, Bruce?"

"Yes. Terry, this is Asgore Dreemurr, King of the Monsters."

"Nice to meet you, Terry!"

"Uh, t-thank you," spluttered Terry, finally responding to his hand being shook, "uh, I hope you're doing alright... sire?"

Asgore chuckled. "Oh, Asgore is fine. Bruce and I have known each other a long time. Doctor Alphys never could stop raving about the support the Waynes gave during our partnership. Now Miss Queen's father did a fine job as well, but Bruce always had a knack for knowing exactly what was needed to get the job done. Better than I did, I still couldn't tell you half of what they got up to. So of course when our contract was due to expire and I caught wind Bruce had come out of retirement, the decision was simple. Oh, but you don't need to be bored by old stories. Son, come meet Mister Wayne's assistant Terry."

Asriel walked over, and merely offered his hand rather than take Terry's. As they shook, his posture had mostly reverted to the disinterest the other businessmen had provoked, though the hand clasped Terry's with a little more care than it looked like he'd given the others.

"Hello, Terry," he said, looking determined to be polite and formal.

"Uh, hello, Asriel." If the King wasn't being called King, then it was safe to skip calling this guy a Prince.

"Have you been working for Mister Wayne very long?"

"Oh, about a year or so."

Asriel's ears twitched of their own volition. Having no frame of reference for monster body language, Terry couldn't tell what it meant, but vague instinct suggested this date meant something significant to Asriel, if not exciting. However the possible reason escaped Terry's grasp.

"I bet you had no idea who Bruce was meeting tonight, did you?" asked Asgore. Terry shook his head. "We must be quite a surprise, I suppose you don't see many unusual folk very often."

"I do actually," admitted Terry, "including some people with horns."

"Indeed? I hope we compare favourably."

"Well the last such guy I met tried to headbutt me off the A-Trak, so yeah, you're in the running."

Asgore laughed at the quip, while Asriel's posture loosened a little, though when Terry glanced over he looked as formal as ever. Bruce gave no sign of disapproval. The usual client type he met in Terry's presence would have been affronted at such a forward tone and Terry would have heard all about it after. But these guys weren't usual. The shortest waiter stepped among them with two cups, one with tea and one with hot chocolate. As he and his son took the drinks, Asgore took out a full cred card that looked tiny in his hand and gave it to the waiter, who in turn was delighted at the windfall. Both monsters then took a drink.

"Mmm," Asgore was obviously satisfied, "that's a good blend. Kasnian?"

"The hotel owner's a fan," said Bruce.

"They have good taste, it's rather schwonderful."

"Huh?" said Terry. "'Schwonderful'?"

"Oh dear, is that not the word? I heard it on television earlier, it sounded so joyful." Asriel made no effort to hide a smirk at his father's attempt to remain relevant. "Hmm, I suppose not." He looked a little disappointed. "Well, as much as I'd like to catch up, it would be rude to keep everyone else waiting. We'd better complete our introductions and then the brass tacks can come out."

"Long knives, you mean."

"Ha ha, I forgot how cynical you can be, Bruce. Over here, son."

Asriel's amusement retreated as the two monsters were swallowed up by a pincer movement of suits ushering them away from Terry and Bruce, both of whom took a chance to take a sip of their own drinks.

"Thoughts, Terry?"

"They seem nice enough, I guess. Hope they're shrewd enough to swim through these sharks, easy enough to get eaten alive."

"I've seen Asgore hold his own diplomatically, but that's an arena where good faith is taken for granted. It never hurts to have backup in the corporate world. It wasn't like Kent had to beg very hard for me to help out."

****

It took another half hour for everyone to shake hands with Asgore and Asriel, much of which Terry spent listening to proposed side deals with Wayne Enterprises. From their tone it sounded like LexGraves' bluster was a waste of a good lawyer, everyone seemed to think Asgore's decision was a foregone conclusion. Terry was inclined to agree. Asriel's face had the same polite expression with every other guest, but his father joined him with most, lacking the interest he'd glimpsed when they spotted Bruce.

Now Asgore sat on a sofa, almost filling it entirely, and a jumbled line had assembled to approach him one by one and give a formal pitch why they would be the best fit for advancing - and more importantly patenting - monster technology that had continued development since they emerged from Mount Ebott. Terry quickly grew bored with it, picking his way through the crowd to the now deserted balcony, the cool if slightly acrid air a relief from the warmth inside. Their duties momentarily discharged, the waiters sat round a table playing poker, so Terry walked past them and leant on the railing, watching cars zip through the air.

"Howdy, Terry."

The unexpectedly friendly tone caught his attention more than the greeting itself. Turning around he saw Asriel approaching him. His face didn't match the tone Terry had heard, if anything he was a little embarrassed now, like he'd overstepped the line. The open collar of his shirt signalled a relief to be clear of the ettiquette of high society, and Terry could sympathise.

"Hi again, Asriel."

"Mind if I take in the view?" He was sounding polite again.

Terry shrugged. "Ain't my house."

Asriel took his permission and rested his hands on the railing. Had he tried to lean like Terry, his height risked him toppling over the edge.

"I'm so glad Dad doesn't need me for this part."

"Not big on business?"

"Neither is Dad, really, he's just better at hiding it. Everyone in there expects us to behave a certain way even while they're trying to make money off us. It's frustrating. Diplomats at least have that whole cultural awareness thing so they shrug it off if you do something weird."

"Hmm."

"It wouldn't have been so bad if it was Bruce and Olivia and a couple of others, but there are so many there you can't afford to slacken up. I bet it was Jerry that told everyone we were coming, he never can keep his mouth shut."

The admonishment of the unknown Jerry underlined a softening in Asriel's tone that had begun as the first actual conversation he'd participated in all night had begun. Terry wondered why he was the one to receive an audience like this, but the question didn't bother him that much. Looking over, he noticed Asriel wasn't peering down at the rows of cars or the maze of streets. His gaze was at the skyline, where concrete, glass and steel suddenly became a murky canvas devoid of light. He sniffed a little in distaste.

"It's weird I can't see the stars here."

"That's modern urban lighting for you. You a fan of stars?"

"Well yeah," he looked a little defensive, "I mean, for most of my childhood all we had to look up at were stalactites and embedded crystals."

"Oh yeah, the whole underground thing."

"Exactly. That's what this city reminds me of, the Underground. It didn't bug me that much as a kid, I never knew the surface, but you see what stars really look like and there's no comparison. And then Superman came along and... gave us a second chance."

"Well if anyone could, it's him."

Asriel fidgeted with his ear again. "Yeah, but... I mean really, for the longest time I thought I had no hope, no right to another chance. He gave it to me, to Dad, to everyone."

Terry wasn't sure what he was getting at. "Well freeing you all would do that, right?"

"It's more than that, it's..." His attempts at explaining seemed to sap the cheerfulness he'd been accumulating. "It's complicated."

"Okay. Most things are complicated. Sorry if Gotham gets you down."

"Don't worry, it's not your fault. Some monsters still live inside the mountain you know. Dad or I have to go in there sometimes to help with a problem, and now... It feels small. Oppressive. But comfortable at the same time. I dunno whether I like it or hate it."

"And then Gotham makes you think about it when you thought you'd get a break from it."

He snapped his furry fingers. "That's it in a nutshell, Terry! Golly, you get this place."

"Well I'm a native. Comes with the territory."

"I bet a lot comes with this territory," he chuckled. Terry didn't get the joke.

"So, your old man knew Bruce back in the day?" These monsters had a way of letting you speak naturally when not pressured otherwise.

"Yep. And of course I met him a few times."

"He change much since then?"

Asriel pondered the question. "He smiled more back then."

"Come on, be plausible."

"Hee hee, no I'm serious. All that schmultz you saw in there, Bruce could out-charm them all. I guess he's rusty or something."

"Did he think you were a little twip?"

The unfamiliar word amused Asriel, but he retreated into thought. "You know, I wasn't sure what he thought of me to start with. First time we met it was like he was studying surveillance footage."

"Okay, that sounds like Bruce."

"But then there was an incident. We got caught up in some lady on a personal rocket trying to rob a fancy party Bruce had thrown, and he... he loosened up after that. Always checked up on how I was. Gave me some advice. I needed it, too. He really understands difficult kids..."

Terry scratched the back of his head. "Oh, he's got experience there, with his parents..."

"Yeah, I know the story. He did a lot for monsters in general, some big, some small, and it wasn't just for our extradimensional storage technology or anything like that. I bet he's still doing it now."

"What makes you think that?"

Asriel smirked again. "Does he really need an assistant? I bet he's stubborn enough to get by without you."

"Touche." They laughed at the jab.

"I wonder why he was staring at Dad's beard?"

"Oh, his social circle's aged a lot more gracefully than he has."

"Ah, that would make sense. Dad probably wins that contest."

"How old is he, fifty?"

"More like six hundred and eighty four."

Terry's face slackened in surprise and disbelief. "That's far scanning. Then what are you, ninety?"

"Forty two, technically."

Asriel was obviously enjoying his bewilderment. "Does that make you like ten in human years or something?"

"Nah. Different monsters age differently. Once my kind in particular reaches maturity we just... stop. Only having a child continues ageing. Even with children we can still reach two centuries if we're careful though."

"But you don't... You don't sound or act your age."

"I've got time to grow up, don't I? Ugh, you remind me of Mom."

Terry found himself laughing at the response, and Asriel joined in. The oddness of the raw numbers vanished as he wrapped his head around monster ideas of maturity not aligning with human ones. The laughter helped smoothe out the strangeness of the guests entirely. That and Terry's experience with stranger people.

"Besides," Asriel continued, "I'm not putting away childish things when for a while I thought I'd never have them again."

"Huh?"

"Oh, right, you didn't know about us. Never mind."

From his tone, Asriel might have expected Terry to know a lot more than he did. In fact, as relaxing as this conversation was, Terry got the vibe there was something Asriel wanted to ask but couldn't figure out how. Without knowing what it was, Terry decided not to worry and instead to ask a little more himself.

"So, Mister Wayne told me something about your natural abilities. What are those?"

"Oh, he probably means the magic." It was an almost bored response.

"Really? Sounds rippin'." Terry looked away as the bizarre image of a monster in wizard robes flashed in his mind. To his surprise, it looked less ridiculous as he thought of it more.

"I guess. You never seen magic?"

"Not much. Only a few humans get to mess with that stuff. Not a big thing... round... Gotham..."

A flickering light caught his attention. Looking over to Asriel again he saw him standing straight, holding a small flame in his bare hand. The waiters had noticed this too, their game interrupted. A cocky grin spread across Asriel's muzzle at the small audience he'd gathered.

"Woah. That's pretty cool."

Terry's approval was taken as permission. Asriel proceeded to juggle the flame, quickly accompanied by two more, then another four. With seven flames, only one retained its orange hue, the others shifting to red or yellow or green or blue. The candescent rainbow left his hands entirely, merging and twisting into a single ring encircling its conjurer. The look on his face suggested he might have gone further, but thought better of it, choosing to put a cap on the demonstration by returning the ring to a single flame in his hand, before it launched into the sky like a flare. The humans were suitably impressed.

"Mom always taught me not to show off my magic." He was apologetic in tone. "I think she was worried it'd scare humans or something. It's a hard habit to break."

"Well it looked pretty schway to me."

This pleased Asriel to no end. "See, words like that are so natural coming out of your mouth! Dad should stick to 'howdy' and 'golly', those work for him."

"Heh, you think old men can't change?"

Asriel's eyebrows met in thought. "It's not that. It took a long time for me to learn, but we can choose to be what we are. But at the same time, there's a pressure around here to try and be something you're not. That tunic and crown, you think Dad wears that around the house? I haven't seen that crown in two years, he normally wears Hawaiian shirts."

Terry expected the mental image of Asgore so dressed to be comical, but much like the wizard image his mind's eye thought it suited him. "That's what the light show was for? You showing who you really are?"

"Yeah, I guess. We all project so much to the world, it's a relief when you don't have to hide. I bet you feel that a lot, Terry."

"Yeah, I guess. Wait, why would I-"

It was so abrupt it silenced Terry instantly. Any hint of relaxation vanished from Asriel's expression. He was upright and alert, his nostrils twitching.

"You smell that?"

"What, the street? That's normal for Gotham-"

"No, something else!"

He was obviously worried now. Perplexed, Terry sniffed, and that's when he noticed it. A new scent, almost sickeningly sweet. It reminded him of hospitals.

"You're right. Some kind of gas..."

The unusual scent led to another observation. An unusual noise. Or lack thereof.

"Everyone's stopped talking inside," said Asriel.

They wheeled round. The reason for the silence was obvious. Everyone inside was unconscious, slumped on the floor or over chairs. The sofa Asgore had occupied was empty.

"Dad?!"

Terry spotted them at once. Asgore's hulking frame dumped unceremoniously on a hovertrolley being pushed out by someone in a balaclava and breathing equipment, with a human hand belonging to a body otherwise hidden by Asgore's dangling off the edge of the trolley. A wrinkled hand.

"Mister Wayne!"

The five figures on the balcony ran towards the entrance, before the smallest stopped the others.

"Stay here, I think there's knockout gas in there!"

Reaching inside his jacket, Terry took out a small device he placed over his mouth. It unfolded a little, extending miniature vents and tubes, and it began to filter the air he was breathing. All scents, normal or otherwise, vanished from his sense of smell. As protected as he could be, he charged in alone. The trolley was halfway out the front door, and Bruce Wayne's figure could be better made out from this angle. Unable to speak clearly through the filter, Terry instead grabbed the intruder's shoulder, who turned to face him. All that could be made out were his eyes. Small, beady, intense.

Mad.

Oh great, thought Terry, just in time to register a mighty WHOMP to his stomach. Stan must have been working out, for Terry crumpled to the floor despite all his training to resist such blows. He struggled to recover as Stan continued to push the trolley out the door. Come on, if you can get up you can maybe sucker punch him-

And that was when Terry noticed a small metallic egg left in Stan's wake. The pin was missing.

Instinct took over. Seizing the contraband and trying to resist the urge to throw up, he clambered unsteadily back outside, the waiters staggering backwards as they saw what he was holding.

"Terry, what-"

He ripped off his filter. "No time, get this clear of us!"

He threw it straight up. Asriel was quick to catch on, and a large burst of flame hit the grenade just as it was slowing down, surprisingly not detonating it, instead launching it easily twice the distance Terry could have thrown it before it detonated. Asriel's flames had another benefit, forming a barrier that deflected the shrapnel from the balcony.

"Where's my Dad? What's happening?!"

The loud roar of an engine answered Asriel's question. An old nondescript truck zoomed past the balcony, a glint of purple in the rear suggesting Asgore's resplendent clothing. Not equipped to pursue, Terry fell back on observing as many details as possible, but there weren't many to pick up on. Okay, prioritise.

"The others," Terry said, "we need to make sure they're alright…"

Two of the waiters were on their phones, obviously to alert the authorities. The third heeded Terry, who accepted his spare filter so he could begin to air out the apartment. Asriel didn't move however. He was quite frozen, save for hands now twisting his ears, not betraying the possibility that he had any idea what to do.

****

The officer obeyed. Again it didn't strike anybody as odd that a teenage witness was listening as intently as the two police officers. All three failed to notice the horned head also turned in their direction. The disc loaded, he pressed play.

"NO MORE WEIRDOS!!!"

Terry seized the volume controls and halved the current output. Mad Stan was never quiet about what was on his mind.

"For too long, humanity has sat around allowing what makes us unique to be overshadowed by a bunch of strangers making things weird! It was bad enough when aliens from Krypton and Arthurian demons started beating up bank robbers, and then It got even worse when the talking gorillas got involved! But now these monsters think they can stroll into our cities and make our lives even more bizarre and complicated! We gotta simplify things, man! Let them deal with their own problems wherever they come from!"

"If you're listening to this, my demands are simple! I want the Mayor to pass an ordinance banning monsters from Gotham! If I can't have normality in the country, I'll settle for it here! Also if the corporate fatcats want their grandpa back, I want two hundred million credits wired into the account details contained on this disk. You have twenty four hours to respond, or I blow them up!"

****

[Summary]

Insert the confirmation that it was Mad Stan who kidnapped them for the idea that Monsters are just one thing too weird in the DC Universe, needing money from Wayne Enterprises to continue his crusade, Terry suiting up and being interrupted by Asriel who reveals he knows both Batmen's identity, that Bruce told him years ago.

A couple of vignettes as Terry investigates some clues, shooting the breeze with Asriel who is halfway fanboying and getting caught up in the adventure. A couple of fisticuffs with gangs (like the Jokerz) before they track down Mad Stan. Possibly Asgore's chill vibes have actually calmed him down before Batman's arrival riles him up again. Bombs are thrown, and Asgore is hurt. Azzy gets mad, Flowey like, blasts Batman out of the way and threatens to embrace kill or be killed. Bruce stops him, reminds him he doesn't have to make that choice. He can choose to be good. Azzy calms down, apologises, cries. Off to hospital.

****

None of the bedside medical machines were operating in this hospital room. They were designed for humans or near-humans, and monster vitals would be missed by them entirely. To Terry's completely ignorant eye however, King Asgore looked like he was doing fine, having chatted with them earlier. He was resting now, though his sleep didn't look peaceful. Asriel sat by his side holding his hand, a look of unsettled relief on his face. On the other side of the bed sat Mister Wayne, a few bandages on his face but otherwise untroubled, hands resting on his cane.

"Thanks..." muttered Asriel yet again. "Thanks..."

Mister Wayne grunted in response, briefly making eye contact with the Prince, which in turn helped him stay calm. A short while later, the door of the room opened, and all three turned to see who it was. Two people entered the room. A third white-furred monster with no golden hair and shorter horns than the other two, and a tall, skinny human dressed like a Chauffeur.

"Mom," choked Asriel, "Frisk!"

Asriel's Mother looked at Asgore through her spectacles, then to her son as he rose from the chair. Terry barely had time to step back as she embraced him in a hug that could crush. It didn't last, as she then laid her hands on Asgore's chest, a warm green glow flowing into him. His eyes opened, and flicked around the room at his visitors.

"Toriel," he said, "sorry to trouble you like this."

She sniffed, in a tone that Terry wasn't sure what to make of. The driver Frisk rested their hand on Asriel's shoulder, which continued to calm him.

"It was Batman," continued Asgore, "he made sure Bruce and I were alright. And Asriel, too."

Asriel found the ceiling interesting as Toriel and Frisk looked over to Mister Wayne for the first time as he in turn got to his feet.

"Toriel," he said, blunt as ever.

"Mister Wayne," she replied, in a warm voice which reminded Terry of his own mother. "I could fix those scratches up for you. It would be the least I could do for the trouble we have brought on you."

He shook his head. "No thank you. I've had worse than this." He looked over to Terry. "We just stopped by to check in on our way out. Best be going now."

Terry nodded, opening the door to let Mister Wayne step out into the hallway, then made to follow.

"Hey, Terry?"

The two humans looked back into the room, where Asriel stood facing them, the others in the room looking at him. He was smiling, looking truly relaxed for the first time since the encounter with Mad Stan. In spite of everything, it was still him.

"Um... It was nice to meet you. I know we didn't spend much time, because... well, we'll let you know if we're in town again."

Terry returned his smile. "Sure thing."

"Great! Oh, and uh, good to see you again Bruce."

Mister Wayne nodded. "Asriel."

Terry closed the door on them, following his boss to the elevator at the end of the hallway. The view was of Downtown Gotham, this time sporadically lit up by rare beams of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Mister Wayne pressed the button for the parking level.

"So how'd you do that?" asked Terry.

"Hmm?"

"When he was... getting a bit wild. Is that normal for monsters?"

Bruce looked down at the distant streets. "...no."

"Then how'd you calm him down?"

He looked to the sky again. "I never got the full story from Clark. He promised to never tell. Not that I needed it, first time I met him as a kid. I could see the mask he was wearing. He went through some terrible times, and I knew his parents weren't equipped to deal with it if the mask ever broke. I thought maybe I could help him cope. Find healthier outlets to let him handle whatever happened."

"'Terrible times'..." repeated Terry. "So what, you were worried he'd end up like Tim Drake? Or the Joker or something?"

Bruce looked straight into his face. "No. I was worried he'd end up like me."

Terry's eyes widened. Then he too found the sky interesting. "...you think you succeeded?"

The elevator was swallowed up by concrete as Bruce turned to face the doors again. Terry couldn't see his face. "...he's not like me."

A soft chime announced their arrival as the doors opened, Terry leading the way as it had been an ambulance which had taken Bruce to the hospital. Five minutes later the black car glided onto the street, making for the coastal highway which was the best route to Wayne Manor. The clouds continued to break up as they drove, almost threatening to make Gotham feel warm and inviting.