Wayne Chronicles

Total mayhem

Gala break-in

~Total mayhem ~

Chapter 3

"DON'T SHOOT!" Bruce yelled as loudly as he could. Leaving his throat rasp and dry. "Don't shoot..." he whispered, his hands up above his head as he slowed to a halt. Bruce looked over at who the 3 hostages were, only to see Dianna, Hal, and Barry on their knees. They were the hostages. How the hell did they end up being hostage out of the hundreds of rich men and women in the room?

'These idiots.' Bruce thought. Giving them the most subtle bat glare his sick body could manage.

All three of them shivered. He could hear Clark right behind him.  Slowing down as soon as he was stood right by him, hands above his head. None of them would be able to save the day tonight, all eyes were on them.

"Would you look at that, if it isn't Gotham's most eligible bachelor."

"Let me guess, you're after the hors d'oeuvres? They're to die for. Quite delicious if I do say so myself." Bruce said sarcastically, unimpressed by the show of guns.

"We want a lot of things, and whatever you just said isn't one of them...You're going to help us get what we want. Even if we have to hurt you to get them." the man says. His black mask draped over his face, and tattoos all over his neck, obscuring his features.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Resorting to threats now are we? Quite the tactic," he remarked. "But if you really wanted an autograph that much, you could've just asked. No need for all the drama." 

Bruce could hear a few suppressed giggles at his words, but the situation was just as bad.

"We're serious, Wayne. Choose your next words carefully."

"Serious? You don't say!" Bruce replied dryly. "And here I thought the ski masks were just a fashion statement. If you're going to hurt me, at least have the decency to buy me dinner first."
'Joker would be proud...' Bruce thought to himself.

The man advanced angrily. His gun pointed straight at Bruce's head, but he didn't flinch, "If I had a penny for every time someone tried to scare me with a gun. I would be tenfold richer than I am right now." Bruce said with a broad sigh before continuing.

"And I don't think killing me will help you get what you want. You aren't in my will. So, you won't be getting my money when I'm dead."

"No, you're right. So, I won't be putting a slug of lead through your head. But I sure will do this.

The man struck Bruce with the butt of his gun, the force of the blow causing Bruce to collapse into his arms. The man held him upright like a threat to everyone in the room. Clark winced when he heard the sickening sound of the gun making contact with the side of his best friend's head, his heart sinking at the sight of dripping red crimson that trickled down.  'At least it's not on the inside...?' He thought.

Slowly but surely, Clark could feel untamed rage building in the back of his mind, watching helplessly as the barrel of the kidnaper Gun was pointed at his recklessly unaware best friend's head, daring anyone to get near them as he dragged the ill-plagued playboy away and out of the building. The man's Henchmen pointed their own Guns at the guests to keep them down as their leader exited the building. One of their guns pointed straight at Clark's chest. All four of the remaining JLA members knew there was no straight way out of this. Their Identities hung in the balance, and by the time they got a distraction, God only knew where Bruce would be...They had to act, and fast.