A Master Bruce/AndyC JointPerched on a rooftop, however, looking down at me, is my former enemy from earlier tonight, the Batman. Lord knows how he was able to find me, but I feel like I should probably say something to him before I meet up with Lois and go home.
I don't push off into the air so much as I begin to drift, like a balloon, before touching down on the rooftop in front of him. His mask has come off, and I swear, I must still not be all there yet.....because I swear, he looks for all the world like Bruce Wayne.
"I, erm, I know we've still got plenty of differences to work out," I say, still in something of a daze, "but I gotta tell ya, I don't think I've got it in me to go another twelve rounds. Is there anywhere around here where we can grab a cup of coffee and just talk things over?"
The rain and wind come down hard as we stand in the dark, awkwardly unable to really put the experience we just shared into words. I'm not even sure that I should be standing near Superman, given the undoubtedly high level of radioactivity that he was just exposed to. But then, given that it took over an hour to locate him in the first place, wandering in a daze across the coast in a traumatized state, I would think that the radiation died down to a low enough point to put me in the clear. Were it not for those spikes in the atmosphere, I likely
wouldn't have found him to begin with, and even those were starting to fade thirty minutes prior. Following a period of silence, as he stares off into space - perhaps figuratively, perhaps literally - I turn around and indicate a district of Gotham that's usually a dead spot this time of night.
"First thing's first. We could both use a change of clothes. I wouldn't want to walk into a public area dressed like this, and you... look like complete hell."It may be best to keep this discussion to a place as far away from others as possible. There's sensitive information that both of us now share - notably, I don't fully believe that he's oblivious to Bruce Wayne's status as a public figure. Approaching him without a spare cowl may not have been one of my brightest moments, but there wasn't time to deviate from the search whenever a blip popped up on my scanner and revealed that there may have been hope all along. I felt that I owed Lane and Dr. Irons that, at least, before going back there.
"There's a diner on Loeb Street. A real hole in the wall type of place, discreet enough for us to say whatever needs to be said without caution.", I explain.
"Twenty minutes. Or you're buying."Firing a grapple line, I take another look at him. He seems flustered from the impact of the blast. Not quite his usual self. Almost in a euphoric state, possibly suffering from hallucinations and other side-effects brought on by the radioactivity. I shake my head, bringing the line back and securing it.
"Maybe give it thirty, in your case. Wouldn't hurt to shake that off."Gotham City, The Narrows
Pauli's Diner
3:00 AM
30 Minutes Later"So..."I place my hands together and stare down at the increasingly cold mug of black coffee, having changed attire and bandaged the minimal wounds I received just earlier. He had already been here, having reserved a corner booth that was out of the way of prying eyes and intrigued ears. And he was
eating, having told the waitress that I would be picking up the tab. To say that it was a well done comeuppance for my earlier comment would be giving it too little credit. I try to avoid eye contact as he continues to stuff his face full of breakfast items, carefree and nonchalantly trading one plate of food for another, having apparently developed the metabolism of a child since being caught in the blast. He explained that his cells drink in energy like a sponge. I wouldn't know the feeling, since I've never had to deal with something... like that.
"Had you ever, erm. Tested being hit by an atomic bomb? Or was that new to you?"Clark pauses mid-bite of a fork full of scrambled eggs, giving me a slight head-tilt. Giving off an expression that suggests me asking the question is the craziest part of all this.
"...How exactly would I practice something like that?"I narrow my eyes, looking up at him.
"I'm not exactly sure. But then, I don't really know how it would've been possible for you to test most of your abilities without being caught. We live in the era of satellite imaging. Surely, you can't be that fast..."He gives me a look that both answers the question and terrifies me to my core.
"You're that fast."Clark shrugs, digging back into his breakfast.
"Well, I don't know if I'm that fast. But yeah, pretty fast. It helps that I can see the satellite signals and just kind of, y'know, fly around them."Raising an eyebrow once again, I lean forward, hanging on that last part particularly.
"You can see the..."Sitting up straight again, I remain silent for a moment. The amount of things that he must experience on a daily basis. The level of sensitivity to his senses. It's too much for me to even imagine, let alone process as fact.
"How in the hell do you get a moment's peace?""Oh my god, there you are..."Both sets of eyes widen as Clark and I look back, seeing the unmistakable form of Lois Lane approaching, her hair still wet from the evening rain and the front entrance to the diner having just shut from her entering. I briefly panic, unsure of what to do, but she reaches us before I have much of a choice in the matter. Clark looks back at me, then at her.
Apparently, my question was just answered.
He doesn't.
"What the hell is going here? I get carted off to some underground bunker, Perry's blowing up my phone because apparently there's some crazy supervillain breakout in New York, a freaking atom bomb goes off right next to the city, and I'm just trying to..."She takes one look at me, realizes who I am, and is immediately slack-jawed.
"...oh holy shit you're Bruce Wayne."There are a multitude of lies that I could feed her to dissuade suspicion. That Clark was interviewing me as apart of a story about the atom bomb's detonation, which seems unbelievable. That I'm secretly Batman's financier and not implicitly the man himself, which seems redundant. Or that this is all a dream, and that she's never so much as seen either The Batman or her boyfriend speaking to Bruce Wayne. Which seems impossible.
Instead, my hand reaches the front of my temple, massaging an oncoming headache. Lois Lane, one of the country's most prominent field reporters whose name still carries relevance in the medium of the newspaper. And she stumbled onto my true identity by accident.
Apparently, the reveal isn't that terribly shocking, as she looks to Clark and ushers him to scoot over. As she sits down, Lane gives him the once-over, aswell.
"You look like hell, Smallville.""Thanks. I feel like hell."There's a pause.
"I'm sorry, but... how she find us?"I look to Clark, then to her.
"How did you find us?"She shrugs.
"Your butler mentioned something about getting coffee, and this is the only place within ten miles that's open twenty-four hours. He's adorable, by the way."Slowly, my face sinks into my open palm.
Of course that's how she found us.
"This just keeps getting better..."Clark finishes chewing his next bit of food before apologetically pushing it aside, presumably so that he can focus on talking things out with her. I merely sit in stunned silence at the nonchalance of these two, as if we didn't just experience one of the worst near-catastrophes of the twenty-first century.
Gotham would've not only been obliterated off of the map, but the entire Eastern Coast might have been rendered uninhabitable. And they're both acting as though this is just a nice, quiet meal between friends. Perhaps it's a Metropolis thing...
"Sorry, Lo. I would've called, but...", he begins, at a loss.
"Well, my phone got nuked."Her expression turns from relatively unphased to something I can't even describe.
Surprise? Outrage? A bit of both?
"Wait... you were in that explosion?!"I scan the rest of the diner to make sure nobody heard that. Thankfully, there's no one else here except for a short-order cook who can't hear over the fryers and a waitress who's still in the midst of taking what must be Clark's fourth order. Lane seems entirely unphased by this, more concerned with how he could've pulled off such a feat.
"So she didn't know you could survive that, either.", I observe.
"That was bold. I'll give you that."He looks at Lane and I, giving a collective shrug.
"I mean, I didn't even know I could survive that. But I had no choice. It was either that or let Toyman take out the entire city.", he explains.
"Speaking of, how'd it go on your end of things?""Well."At first trying to be careful of how I phrase this with Lane present, I eventually sigh to myself, realizing the futility of such a dance. I suppose I'll just have to live with the fact that both of these people, whom I've barely even met, now know that Bruce Wayne and Batman are the same man.
"I... actually outsourced someone who's something of a technological expert. We both systematically shut down Schott's A.I. piece-by-piece, and I destroyed what remained of his equipment. Whatever trace of The Toyman that existed on this or any other server should theoretically be gone.""Hmm.", Lane replies, frowning as she glances over the menu.
"'Should be' more often than not ends up meaning 'isn't'. But it sounds like the two of you pulled out a win for the day, at least."I give Clark the side-eye.
"Actually, your boyfriend did the heavy lifting. Quite literally. But given that neither of us knew whether or not Schott could get the nuke far enough away from Gotham, I'd less say that we pulled out a win so much as we were granted one. We got lucky."Raising his finger, as if to suggest a counter-point, I notice that he's already finished another plate of hash browns. In the blink of an eye, while Lane and I shared that exchange. I would question the flippant use of his abilities, but if I had the power to do that? I can't say that I wouldn't.
"Well, sometimes it's better to be lucky than good.", he counters, motioning for the waitress as she reaches our general vicinity.
"'Scuse me. Can I get another helping, please? You wouldn't believe how hungry I am."Correction. He's on his
fifth plate, at this point.
"And a half-and-half coffee for me, thanks."I look down at the bone-cold mug of coffee that I was given whenever we arrived. I guess I was so enthralled with asking about Superman's abilities, trying to weigh out the logistics in my head and continually coming up empty, that I hadn't even thought to touch it. Massaging the bridge of my nose, I reluctantly raise a hand as the waitress jots down Lois and Clark's addendums.
"And a refill on mine."The waitress looks at me, writes it down, and then heads back to the kitchen whilst muttering something beneath her breath. Lane turns to the both of us, placing her hands together and leaning forward.
"So, the million-dollar question.", she begins.
"What happens now? You two going to start networking, or is this more of a 'two ships passing in the night' sort of deal?"Unsure of what she's suggesting, I give her a skeptical eye.
"I'm... not exactly in the market for a partner, if that's what you're asking. And I don't know if 'Clark', here, would be satisfied with tackling petty thieves and the mob. He seems more content with enemies that play on a much larger scale, and I'd like to distance myself from that as much as possible. No offense.""None taken.", he replies.
"But if I do happen to miss the odd mob boss or bank robber, I'm hoping I can trust you to pick up my slack. And I hope you wouldn't think I'm imposing the next time someone launches a missile at Gotham City."I think back to the feelings of hopeless and despair that I experienced earlier tonight, when I was unsure of what would happen once the missile was launched. How close we came to the brink, how there was literally nothing any of us could do but hope for a miracle. A miracle that Superman eventually delivered us, despite never once knowing whether he'd survive. It wouldn't be wise of me to simply ignore that.
"Point.", I acknowledge.
"I suppose we'll just agree to stick to what we're best at, and should our paths happen to cross again, we'll see what needs to be done. But I want to make one thing clear."Leaning forward, I give them both a deathly serious glare. Barbara Gordon and I reconvened after I found Clark wandering across the Bay area, and she had a particularly surprising revelation to give me about a certain visitor from Metropolis that came to interview her father earlier in the day. The story being what happened in The Narrows, and how The Batman was as much a danger to Gotham as the criminals he fought.
"I have it on good authority that you were sent here to write a story about me. You came here believing that I'm a threat to the city, and I'll admit, I've done a poor job of proving otherwise.", I begin, choosing my words carefully.
"But I do what I do because there's no other choice. I've tried to look the other way and I've tried to make changes, financially. It doesn't work that way when your hands are tied by the mob. So if my methods seem... extreme, that's because they have to be."Clark lowers his glasses, somewhat, and gives me a skeptical look of his own. Even folds his arms across his chest, as if to intimidate me. Clearly, that isn't going to fly as well as I would have hoped.
"I don't agree with the methods.", he replies, frankly.
"And If I find out you've really gone over the edge, trust me when I say that I'll shut it down. Lord knows we don't need another Punisher on our hands. But if the goal is to help the people who need it, then maybe I can find the odd reason to look the other way."Lane places a hand on his, showing her support. Neither of them seem to be particularly big fans of the lonesome vigilante who stalks criminals at night and breaks their bones. I can't promise them that I'm going to stop anytime soon, but perhaps I can dissuade their fears in allowing me to remain active. After all, they're both capable of it. Him with his abilities, her with what she knows. They could put an end to the only life that I know in an instant.
At least, they
could have. Oracle managed to mention something else whenever she told me about the Metropolis reporter's interview with Captain Gordon. A distinct detail that seemed rather insignificant without the missing piece of the puzzle: his name.
"It's not as if either of us are operating under the strictest sense of the law... Kent."At first, he seems to be unaffected by this revelation. But his poker face is lousier than Lane's, who seems to be at least somewhat stern in her posture. I can see the paranoia in his eyes. It didn't take much to cross reference what Barbara told me with what I already knew to confirm the suspicions, but it seemed hardly necessary. The truth was obvious the minute that she told me a man named Clark conducted the interview. Specifically, Clark Joseph Kent, a relatively recent addition to the staff of The Daily Planet. Originally from Smallville, Kansas. Adopted by Jonathan and Martha Kent.
Even a sliver of that information could easily reach the internet within seconds, were I to choose to make it known. There would be some doubt, surely, and most would shrug it off as rumor. After all, before Lane even spoke his name in the park in an effort to reach his rationality, I hadn't even considered that Superman would require the need for a double life. But there would be suspicion cast upon him. People wouldn't be able to get it out of their heads. And that alone would undo Superman as easily as exposing me would undo Batman.
"And there's plenty of paranoia still to be had about a man who can see satellite signals and withstand nuclear blasts, no matter the content of his character.", I continue.
"But if it helps ease your conscience, I'll say this. I've never believed in killing. Breaking bones, I have no qualms with. Injuring and hurting those that deserve it. But I made a very important vow, a long time ago, to never take another person's life. I've seen too much death in this city as it is to ever be a contributing factor."There's a tense moment between the three of us, before Kent solemnly nods.
"That's good to know.", he says, standing to take the newly arrived plate of food as it's handed to him.
"Just make sure that limitation doesn't become an excuse. Doing bad things to bad people isn't the same as doing good."I take a look at the reflection of myself as I'm handed the fresh cup of coffee.
With all that's happened lately, I could stand to take that to heart.
There've been too many close calls. Too many mistakes I've made.
Someone's bound to get killed if I don't start to better approach this.
"Duly noted."Taking a sip of the coffee, I attempt to switch topics as quickly as possible. While I don't know whether or not that appeal truly convinced either of them, I have to admit, there are a few more pressing matters to speak of than the preservation of my privacy.
"But regardless. I don't think I'm the billionaire that you have to worry about in the immediate future.", I reply, a hint of bitterness in my voice.
"I heard Toyman's mention of Lex Luthor. And you seemed equally as surprised to hear about his involvement. So I assume that if he's out there, contributing to campaigns like Schott's or something equally as nefarious, you'll be keeping an eye on him?"Kent's form goes from uncertainty to tense at the mere mention of Luthor's name. Even if he didn't know that Lex was apart of Toyman's scheme, it's clear that there's some animosity to be felt there. Perhaps he suspected, but never had any reason to prove anything. Looking past me, I can almost feel the rage building off of him as he thinks of Luthor's role in this.
"Oh, I plan on having a few words with Luthor as soon as I get back to Metropolis.""Oh no, you're not.", Lane interjects.
"You've wound up unconscious and nearly dying at the bottom of the ocean twice today, and if Luthor's really up to something, you're going to need to be at a hundred percent. So you're taking tomorrow off to recuperate."He seems surprised by this objection. Then again, Lane did seem to confirm to him that they were an item earlier tonight with that kiss, so I would assume that alot of things are about to change in their dynamic. I simply take a quiet sip of my coffee as they continue, unsure of when to re-enter the conversation. Or rather, if I even should.
"Lo, I really don't--""Not hearing it, Kent," she objects, cutting him off.
"And to make sure you're not going to go do something stupid while you're healing up, you're staying at my place so that I can keep an eye on you."He gives her a bewildered expression.
"...I mean, I could crash on the couch, or..."She narrows her eyes, folding her arms in turn. The insinuation isn't so much made clear as it's mapped out as a mission statement. Kent takes a surprisingly long time to catch on, but when he does, I can swear that I see his cheeks briefly turn a shade of red.
"Oh, I, erm... oh!"And this is supposed to be the most powerful man on the planet.
Unbelievable.
"Well, it's good to know that there's someone to keep you in check, at least."The two look at me, seemingly having forgotten that I was here altogether, and awkwardly look away. Kent eventually grins, sheepishly.
"Well, you know what they say. Behind every powerful man and all that...""Mm! This coffee's fantastic, by the way.", Lane interrupts, clearly trying to play off her embarrassment.
"You should actually drink some of your's instead of just scowling at it."There's a particular tone of voice in there that she hits. One familiar to me, in regards to my once weekly conversations with Selina Kyle. The tone that says that I've interrupted a woman when I shouldn't have, and there'll be hell to pay if I don't do exactly as they say in that moment. In response, I look down at the cup, after giving her another look, and take a proper drink.
Surprisingly, she's right.
This is the best cup of coffee I've had in years.
"I should come here more often..."Kent seems to read more into that than I did, raising an eyebrow.
"That's honestly not a bad idea. I mean, we've both got our own agendas and methods, but it might not hurt to meet up from time to time and compare notes. Or at the very least, keep the lines of communication open so we don't have another instance of... well, what happened earlier tonight."I take another drink, glancing back towards him.
"You mean when you tried to kill me? I agree. We should avoid that."But as much as I hate to admit it, the idea isn't completely without merit. There's nothing to suggest that we have to be partners, or even allies. But there are certain advantages that we could gleam from this chance encounter that could actually be fairly positive, not to mention advantageous, for both of us.
"I suppose it couldn't hurt. My interest lies squarely with Gotham, but Metropolis has it's share of ganglords aswell. Should only be a matter of time before I uncover a connection between them and Falcone. And given your respective lines of work, I could see the benefit of having someone who sneaks into dark corners on your side.""And, not to state the obvious.", Lois adds.
"But I have to imagine being able to call on a guy who can juggle tanks and shrug off artillery would come in handy if the mob in Gotham starts bringing in big guns of their own."Kent immediately looks up from having stuffed his face with another helping of hash browns.
"I actually can't juggle tanks.""I've seen you lift a skyscraper.""Lift, sure, but I can't actually juggle. Never could get the timing down."I blink once, staring blankly at both of them.
They can't... actually be serious about that. About him lifting a skyscraper.
Can they?
Wordlessly, I take another drink of coffee, suddenly wishing there were vodka mixed in.
"I suppose... yes, I could stand to use some help with the number of metahumans rising out of the shadows. I'm ill-equipped to deal with them at the moment, whereas you can do... all of that.", I surmise.
"But before we agree on anything, I think both of us need to establish an assurance of something. You both know my secret, and I know Kent's. So it goes without saying that if I see much of anything in regards to what you've learned in The Daily Planet..."Lane doesn't so much as flinch at that, taking a sip of her drink.
"No offense, Mr. Wayne. But I've been threatened by professionals."Noticing my hesitation, however, she elaborates.
"Don't worry, though. I think between a rogue artificial intelligence turned cyber-terrorist hijacking a nuclear warhead and whatever insanity happened at the Raft, 'rich guy dresses up and gets in fights' isn't going to sell too many papers."I don't know whether that makes me feel better or worse.
But I'll take it, as I suppose there's no real way of gaining any further leverage.
"As long as it stays that way.", I reply, before turning to Kent.
"And I've no reason to expose you. Especially in light of what you did in service of Gotham. So consider my silence given as gratitude. You saved millions of lives, including mine.""Don't sell yourself short,", Kent quickly counters.
"Toyman would have gotten away if you hadn't shut him down for good. Which means you saved quite a few lives yourself, in the long run."He looks at me with a sense of his own gratitude. Without giving myself too much credit, I have to admit, I can't imagine how the night would've gone if we hadn't been forced to work together.
"Then I guess that makes us even."Motioning for the check, I finally find myself able to relax after the insanity of the evening.
"I suppose there's nothing left for me to do, then, than pick up the tab."Lane seems to put on a look of worry, all of the sudden, glancing over at the stacked plates sitting to the right of Kent.
"Oh, I don't know.", she says.
"Clark, here, ate a hell of alot of food. It wouldn't be right for you to take care of it all. How would you, even?"Pulling out my phone, I smirk to myself as I begin typing a message for them to read, not to be seen by anyone else.
"Simply put, Miss Lane..."I place the phone on the table and slide it over to them. Lane looks down at the message, as does Kent. They both look back at me and smirk, themselves.
The message being...
Because I'm Batman.
Member
Captain Uni,
Supermaxx,
Eddie Brock,
Divine Darkness,
Neziul,
Iluvtoji,
Hound55,
Hillan,
abcabc,
Melissa
