Adult-FanFiction.org : Comics

Tears and Rain	By : Waxcrayons Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 13549 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not nor will I ever own Batman, Superman,DC comics or any of their characters, or make any money off of them.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Lately the world seemed a endless parade of cold fluorescent lit prisons. This particular one was decorated in glaringly clashing colors, horrendous carnival patch-work patterns, and littered with old fashioned toys, gag gifts, and balloons. Half eaten boxes of candy, chocolates and marzipan lay scattered atop desks and chairs... wherever their thoughtless owner happened to be standing when he discarded them. Furniture that had once upon a time been colonial antiques, stood whittled and painted into funhouse mirror images, with green smiley faces spray painted on them as an after thought. At the center of the dizzying color palette was a decently sized bed made up like a sleazy motel's valentine's suite, all hues of pink and red, with pillows in the shapes of lips and hearts. To complete the seedy imagery, the place was littered with the kind of sexual paraphernalia you would expect to find in a 70's porno. It matched the equally sketchy beaded door bathroom. With the kind of juxtaposition only Harvey Dent could truly appreciate, in the opposite end of the room was an innocent child sized setting of tables and chairs, a used kiddie tea set and tea biscuits laid out. After everything he had been put through lately, the Joker's request to have a tea party with 'the guys' of all things was certainly the tamest. He had sat right there, in the small blue chair decorated with holographic stickers of bats and cartoon mice. Sophie, who had been been allowed to be 'one of the guys', had sat right beside him. Their hands had held fast together whenever possible. A weak link between the only two sane people in the room.
There was simply no point in trying to leave the room as it was always guarded and he had been all but outright dared to try and see what would happen to Sophie. So the clown came and went as he pleased and Bruce was left to his own devices. He knew where everything was in this chamber, and what he was allowed to touch. The television only picked up a vintage cartoon network and the radio only managed to get a hokey fifties hit list. The literature was bipolar in genres with selections from Diary of a Wimpy Kid to The Fountainhead. The weapons were wisely on his adversary's part not kept in the same area as he was. Other things were also kept from him. Food that wasn't boxed sweets. The newspapers. Even the closet, which now also contained his aged hospital gown, was locked down like Fort Knox. He spent the better part of his time playing cards in nothing but the bandages Nygma had dressed him in, and being thankful for them. The rules had been laid out... He knew all that he was allowed to do here... and what was expected of him when the clown... came 'home'.
Always it was a game to the madman. When he was around the closet was opened and then Bruce got to wear all kinds of costumes. Sometimes just bits and pieces, and sometimes he was just trussed up in nothing but bandaged and silk ribbons. Always it was games of dress-up, of house, and there was always the toys that went with them. His eyes kept settling on the paraphernalia whilst he remembered longingly a time when he'd had no idea what most of these things were for. The last encounter with the clown haunted him from the corners of his mind threatening to come to the forefront. The weight on his wrists holding him down while some cold mechanical invader... No, Stop. The clown watching him from above commanding him to open his eyes and look at the lunatic while he squirmed and moaned shamelessly, helplessly, and – Fuck, Bruce! Enough is enough.
...And as always when it was over alabaster hands would pet him like a dog and clothe him in what was now only referred to as his 'dress'. He'd sit limply by two-toned shoe clad feet to have his hair brushed with a polished antique silver hairbrush for, from what he could tell, was never short of an hour. The hair brushing he didn't mind so much as it was actually therapeutic. Likely why so many women he knew enjoyed having their tresses played with. So he's sit patiently with a mind in faraway places while the clown brushed and spoke away, filling the room with his recollections of every crazy caper and murderous prank Batman had ever foiled. Finished with his tales, the clown could swing anywhere between abusing him again and taking a nap. Then with whispers of secret plans he's be out the door, leaving Bruce swimming in silky red sheets, anxiously afraid of what could come next.
With each visit the Joker grew increasingly nostalgic. Every story seemed like a last confession to Bruce. It worried him that as the tales of yesteryear started to catch up to the tales of yesterday the clown's fervor only increased. The need to remind him of every detail, from the specific lighting, to the smell of acidic Gotham rain in the air, to the exact count of balloons and their colors... It was all so important to the Ace of Knaves that the Dark Knight remember all of what he called their grand seduction.
...When he wasn't violating his starved, frail captive.
Fuck, Bruce!
Sadly, he tried to clear his mind as he waited for the monster to return with the tale about that time he had tampered with Clown Candy Inc.'s Gotham branch, altering the chewing gum so that it cemented the teeth of the children who ate the altered treats. It was next on the list, if he was going chronologically. As if summoned on cue, a whirlwind of purple silk and green dreads burst in, bouncing around the room like a giddy toddler, modelling custom made suits and shirts. A poor falsetto rendition of Bobby Darin's 'Dream Lover' assaulted the air as the Joker laid the garments out on the bed with care before his sheet wrapped hostage. Bruce wasn't sure how the clown wanted him to react for this little game so he simply waited.
“You know, I was staring to think that maybe I had gotten it all wrong and our large special guest just didn't love you enough to come to our party. Thanks to the evil that is social media I know he's finally being seen, so it stands to reason we can get his attention the same way we got that of your other friends. What do you think, Batsy? You ready for an encore performance? I promise this one will be better. Better costume, less blood. We'll really be going for a tear-jerker with this one.”
“What are you talking about?”
“See? I knew you wouldn't say no!” The Clown squealed. “But you have got to change out of those bandages and sheet. Good look when we're in private honey, but you're going to drive the boys and girls wild if you go out like that. You're going to need a shower too. Still have my lipstick all over you. And a shave.” The tangent trailed off only briefly. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
He was pulled out from the bed and forced towards the bathroom and right into the shower stall. The water hadn't even thought of heating up when he was forced under it and assaulted with soap and a coarse wash cloth and was only lukewarm when he was pulled out and towled off furiously. Forced to stand terrifyingly still as a mass murderer shaved his face and neck with nothing but oil and an old fashioned straight razorblade. The whole process a little too Demon Barber of Fleet Street for him. He made it out of the bathroom with a seriously moisturised body and his throat thankfully intact only to promptly be dragged by hand to once again stand before the garments laid out upon the bed.
“I had them done up just for you a while ago. It's for our going out ball.”
Bruce looked down at the deceivingly mundane but ludicrous ensemble. A three piece suit made of exquisite fabrics lay before him, black jacket and trousers, and a beautiful weave of silver for the vest and tie. The shoes were two toned twins of the Joker's in the same black and silver motif. Laying next to the custom made suit was sort of domino shaped mask, it's design clearly inspired by the cowl of his Batsuit. Only it was so delicate looking and decorative... Pretty, was the correct word he was looking for. The domino mask was of comparable beauty to those worn by Venetians during their Carnival.
“Of course, I had to pick these up today when I remembered we lost your Priap friend.” The Clown snickered as he held up some low-cut boxer-brief. The thing looked like a narrow rectangle that would leave nothing to the imagination. “Let me help you into them.”
With deliberate care the Joker dressed his doll up for a masquerade of his own design. When finished, he stood back to admire both his selection and his handiwork, and allowed Bruce time to just stare at his reflection. Of all the times he had peered into the looking glass he had never once felt that the mirror was showing him his true reflection. Bruce Wayne's was too polished, Batman's too sinister. His Smallville disguise was too domestic but this..? So much like the frail empty thing that had stared back at him the last time he truly gazed upon his reflection. He'd mistaken himself for a stranger, it had been so long since he last encountered the person he needed to hide behind masks. This was who he was. A moving manikin you could dress up to play any part you desired. His own personality so small and weak compared to the roles he played, it was lost in them.
The clown waited with a wide smile for his assessment. He told the Joker the honest truth.
“It's perfect.”
*** Real time holographic sensors in the Fortress could mimic the land sea and skyscapes at the push of a button or upon a verbal command. In one moment you were encased in crystalline beauty and alien technology, the next you stood in the open Arctic. Within only a quarter of a second delay the ceiling and walls captured and transmitted from the images outside. The memory banks also could composite imagery, making it so that in a place where the sun or moon reigned for six months at a time, he could watch a simulation of what a regular day in North pole would be like. Clark never tired of just lazing in his warm bed, watching the sun rise or planes soar by from the top of the world. Serenity was his to behold. Beholding was what he did best. He snuggled deeper into the blankets, unwilling to leave the comfy prison quite yet... Knowing full well that this time he was not simply admiring the view. It was avoidance behaviour because he was suffering from cold feet. Today was the day, after all. Before Clark would watch the simulated sun set over the pristine Arctic tonight, he was going to know if he'd be doing that solo or while he made love to the most perfectly flawed man in the world. Well, maybe that was moving too fast and he'd just watch the sunset while making out with the most perfectly flawed man in the world. Or even... Just holding hands? Yeah, he could do hand holding. But first he had to do the prep work for his dinner so that his culinary expertise seemed impressively flawless. You know, so he had more time to spend with Bruce and the kids. Not because he was nervous that maybe he wasn't as great a chef as he thought he was. Of course, it was nothing like that. Clark cooked all the time and no one was ever left unsatisfied. And after that he had to check in with Ma Kent. When he'd left she'd been a little under the weather. Even if she had been the picture of health it had been quite a long time for a mother to go without seeing her son. He had missed her something fierce as well. The food on Oa was so terrible he had fantasized about eating Ma's home made pies daily. Perhaps he could even pick up a fresh one for his dinner? Maybe even make some real cream, straight from the cow? Ma Kent would probably have a lot to talk about and need his help doing some chores or running some errands for her too. She was getting on up in there in age and it was his familial duty to make sure his Ma had everything she needed. Maybe she just needed him to remind her of all the handy chores he could do for her. Not that he'd be fishing for things to do just so that he could put off the inevitability of settling this thing with Bruce once and for all. Honestly, he was a big boy. Perfectly capable of facing the cold hard fact that the one person he truly wanted to love and accept him could very easily throw all his hopes and dreams right back at him. And then he'd be...
Well, best not to think about that.
Rightly so. All this worrying wasn't going to get him anywhere. The day had come, and it was time to seize it. Carpe Diem and all that jazz. Holographic sensors complied with his curt Kryptonian commands, encasing him once again in alien crystal and turning on the lights. As always, lonely morning routines were carried out in solemn silence however, today especially, he felt like a ghost as he padded barefoot through the Fortress. All these wonders confined under one roof seemed wasted with no one but he to ever gaze upon them. What good was any of this if he couldn't share it? If no one wanted what it had to offer? What good was he if he couldn't share himself?
...If no one wanted what he had to offer?
He escaped the oppressive solitude before it could corrode the remnants of his failing resolve, leaving a carelessly large crater and a sonic boom in his wake. Home was where he needed to be. He just needed to see his Ma's face because she loved him for everything he was and enough time spent with her would surely dissolve all of this pent up doubt and fear. Ma Kent hadn't raised her boy to be sweating at the first sign of a challenge. 'Anything you want in your heart is worth fighting for', she would say if he could muster up the courage to tell her he was in love with the 'Goth boy' old Pa – God rest his soul – was always raising a brow over.
Unfortunately, he grimly admitted passing overhead of the land he had been reared on, the Kent family farm had seen better days. It was looking just a little worn around the edges. The fields once so lovingly tended to by his father and his trusted farmhands looked a little grey, and not just because of the Winter. The livestock shifted about with very little of the vigor he remembered from his youth. It was like the spirit of Jonathan Kent had literally vanished from the farm. Even his mother who had had a fairly good hand in the farming years ago found the work too hard in her old age. Trusted farmhands that had lived on the farm and worked closely with Jonathan Kent had mostly dispersed to neighbouring farms, and the one that had stayed spent more time chasing after the young bucks and making them tow the line than he did doing any farm work. Troubling times were indeed just around the corner for the Kent farm.
But, he thought as he descended down onto the wrap around porch of his family home, It's almost Christmas. Now is not the time to be worrying about money and land. Christmas was for family and friends. And if one could make a friend a part of their family, well more power to you. The thought of knocking on the front door never even crossed his mind. Clark was welcomed into the old farmhouse by a familiar bouquet of aromas. Fresh baking, fresh linens, fresh fruits... The smell of an old fashioned iron, the kind that sat on top of a wood stove, heating up. Wood smoke, for that matter. The sounds were of a tinny old radio broadcasting an oldies station, and the voice of the old lady who sang along with them. Ma Kent seemed a touch thin, but she moved gracefully as she dusted the family room.
“Hey, Ma.” He smiled.
“Baby!” She squealed, meeting him halfway for a tight embrace. “Welcome home!” In short order she had him seated at the kitchen table with a piece of pie and a cup of coffee across from her. Ma Kent leaned forward on the table enthralled with his strange tales from the alien world of Oa. “It sounds so bureaucratic, though. But still,” Her eyes filled with wonder. “All those different worlds with life on them. How many different races do you think there were?”
“I lost count after two hundred or so. And to be honest, I don't know if every sentient race is represented by the Green Lanterns or not. It was amazing, I'm not going to lie. But I was surprised how many people there was there that looked like they could have been human. I guess planets that support life generally produce bipedal humanoids as the dominant species.” Clark leaned back and gave his mother a broad grin. “I was thinking of home the whole time.” He admitted. “What did I miss? How are you doing?”
“Oh, we're always the same here in Smallville, Honey. The Johnston's cow gave birth to triplets last week. Apparently it was in the papers. I keep meaning to go down and take a look at that little miracle. I keep meaning to pick up my newspapers too. Postmaster must be mighty furious with me by now. It's been over two weeks, maybe even three since I've collected the mail.”
“That's very unusual of you... Are you still feeling sick? Is there something wrong?”
Ma Kent waved off his concern. “I'm as healthy as a horse, Honey. I've just been busy. With your father no longer with us, I'm running a house and the farm... Well mostly just the associated paperwork. I'm a working girl, and we working girls don't always have time to pick up the mail.” She feinted his scrutinising gaze and gave him one of her own. “What about you? You've been here an hour and you've barely touched that pie. What's really on your mind? Tell your Ma, Honey, I'm sure I can help.”
It was possible to lie to a friend, or your boss, or a police officer and get away with it. With control over your body you could even beat a polygraph test. But the one person you couldn't lie to, or at least Clark couldn't, was your mother. Mother's had a secret sense when it came to their children, and Ma Kent was definitely using hers right at this moment. Her warm encouraging smile told him all he needed to know. Whatever he had to say wasn't going change anything between them, so why not just get it out? The woman who raised him had a right to know he was in love and by telling her he would finally be saying the words out loud and not just in the thoughts that filled his head. Freely admitting to what was in his heart was the logical next step... So just how was he going to word it?
Ma, I know you and Pa wanted to be grandparents one day. I know that when you were raising me you wanted only what was best for me. And I know you wouldn't wish anything on me that would make my life any harder than it already is. But, I'm an alien and I'm different. I'm a good person though, just like you've raised me to be. I want to still be a good and moral person, and I don't believe what I'm trying to tell you makes me wrong, or bad, or unworthy. I can still have a family by blood or not. You're my mother no matter what a blood test would say. I'm in love with somebody, Ma. This person makes me feel connected to the world in a way I've never really experienced before. This person is the one soul I've encountered who didn't raise me who isn't even a little bit afraid of Superman. This wonderful person and their family make me feel like I belong. Ma, I'm...
She waited patiently, encouraging him with her loving eyes.
“I'm in love with Bruce.” He unceremoniously confessed. So much for all that elegant prose. And wait a minute... Did I really come out to my mother just like that? Is this even really coming out? I don't find Hal or Barry or Johnny Depp hot. I'm just hopelessly in love with this one man. Oh God, why isn't she saying anything? She's just sitting there... Judging me? Looking at me like I'm a freak.
Ma Kent brought a hand up and began to tap her fingers to her lips thoughtfully... And smiled. “You know, your father said exactly the same thing the first time you brought him home.”
Am I hearing this correctly?
“It's true. That pale boy was all banged up and whining about how he was fine and he wanted to go home but you made a pit stop here, remember?” She waited for him to nod. “Pa said he saw the way you were trying not to watch the boy take off that scary black armor so I could fix him up. Thought you were smitten. Told me so later that night over a cup of coffee.”
I'm... I'm hearing this correctly.
“Oh, Honey, I'm so happy for you!” She exclaimed with a hug and a kiss, pulling her chair close so that she could hold his large hands in her tiny ones. “When did you find out for yourself?”
He wasn't going to tell her it was when he had ripped most of his new partner's costume off hours after their first meeting and ran all the way to third base in under ten minutes. That also was probably just a heavy dose of lust. “Pretty early on, I think.” It was weird telling this to his mother, but who else could he tell? And again, she deserved to know who her son in law would be. And that if all things went well, she would be a grandmother before the day was out. “Bruce always makes me feel normal. And I don't mean 'human'. I mean, I get the feeling that to him all these alien powers are part and parcel. He weighs me by my character. So it was easy to be friends with him. But I've been pretty obsessed with him, Ma. I think about him all the time. I worry about him. I think about his kids too. Sometimes I go places and I see things I know they'd love to see or do and I wish I could just go get them. When they do good in school I feel proud. Alfred's like a favourite uncle to me and I love the old English chap to death.” He stopped himself before he could continue to ramble on about all the people that were a part of Bruce's life that he wanted so desperately to be a part of his own. “You know how he's so bad at looking after himself? I love that. I love it because I want to take care of him.”
Ma Kent patted his hands before giving them a squeeze. “That's love, Clark. Accepting every flaw as equally as you accept the rest of the person. Does Bruce know how you feel? Do you know if he feels the same way?”
“I... hope so. We spend so much time together. Right up to when I left for Oa, it had gotten to the point where we never went more then twenty four hours between seeing each other. There is something between us and he does know that. The way he looks at me sometimes... There's no way this is a one sided attraction. But he's so careful. I think he's wary of changing our relationship because he's afraid of it not working out. So I think I'm going to have to be the one to bring it up.”
“Hmm...” His Ma pondered. “Maybe not. I'm sorry I've had my head in the clouds lately... I forgot to mention that a little while ago that nice Mr. Pennysworth called here looking for you. He didn't say much aside from hie usual pleasantries, but he did tell me to let you know that the blackbird has left home. Strange message, right? Is it from Bruce? Is that some sort of code for something?”
It was some sort of code for something. Blackbird was a name Batman did take on less than optimally secured radio waves. Whatever it was, for Alfred to call here looking for him meant there was certainly some trouble. “How long ago did he call?”
He watched the struggle on her face. “I'm sorry, Honey. Maybe this cold has me more frazzled then I think... It might have been a while ago. A long while.”
“No, it's okay. Ma, I should –“
“You should probably go check up on them. Just to be safe.”
“Yeah.” He agreed swiftly, kissing her. “I'll visit soon, I just... I have to go.”
Not waiting for her to bid him farewell he shrugged out of his clothes and into his cape and took off towards Gotham. He allowed all the white noise of the world he selectively chose not to hear when he wasn't being Superman come to the forefront. In Gotham City the people were crying out. Their cries urged him to fly faster into the mother of all winter storms and into a sky that despite it being midday, was as black as night. Hovering there above all the chaos below, he could smell the acrid stench of chemical fires and uncollected refuse. Smell shorted out electricity and coppery pools of old blood. He could hear the looting, the gunfire, the cries of terror, and of loss. He could hear women sobbing everywhere. Hear mothers shushing their children as they lay low waiting for the gang wars to stop firing. He could hear men dying all around him for reasons he couldn't comprehend. East a man was shot defending a small bag of groceries from a hungry rabble. At the same moment a man to the south was shot by a father protecting his daughter. In the pandemonium he heard police radios firing off hundreds of messages at once. He heard the National Guard being deployed to break up turf wars and evacuate civilian hostages. It was dizzying. Overwhelming. He had to help in any way he could. The people were suffering and dying all around him but...
I'm sorry... I'm really so sorry. I have to know if he's okay first. He swore to those suffering he would be back for them soon. He flew towards Bristol county which thankfully seemed to have been spared from the carnage. It was a relief to know the boys were safe. He didn't wait to be let in through the front door, so he wasn't surprised when he met Alfred on the top floor from behind the double barrel of a short gun. He was sure the dignified man would forgive him the tripped perimeter alarm.
“Alfred, I'm glad you're okay.”
“Master Clark! I apologize, but you cant be too careful in this city.”
In the few years that he had know Alfred Pennsyworth, the man had been infallibly collected. Always calm, always polite, always on top of things. He had to be when he was charged with looking after Bruce, who was always erratic, frequently brusque, and would forget to eat and go to the bathroom unless you reminded him. Clark had never seen Alfred look unkempt. He had never seen the man break a sweat before, and seeing him do it now sent a shot of adrenaline through Clark's body. “What's happening, Alfred?” He asked weakly.
“Please, Master Clark, not here. The children...” The worn, thin man pleaded.
“Right.” He agreed, following Alfred to one of the secret entrances to the Cave and descending. Once down below and the Bat-Computer – that actually had a name but everyone still called it the Bat-Computer anyway – was booted up, Alfred brought up a map of Gotham City and began to explain. “Over three weeks ago, in fact the very day you left us, Master Bruce went out on patrol around the city. A few hours later I received two recorded messages from him that he was inside Arkham Asylum and the staff was being held hostage by that cretin, the Joker. I was to tip off the police and wait for word from him. However, I've heard nothing since. Master Bruce has been missing.”
He's... Missing.
“At my suggestion there is a tracer in the utility belt with which I normally could locate him but that went offline the same night that he vanished. There is also an emergency frequency and gps that can be broadcast from the cowl. It's just a matter of turning it on.”
“It hasn't been switched on?”
“...I'm afraid not, Master Clark. He's missing or worse, and I haven't a clue how to find him. The children are distraught. I am... No better, to be honest. Commissioner Gordon's men have made a sweep of the Asylum with the help of some of your League members, but I have no means to contact them to see what they've found. I was hoping you would bridge this gap.”
“They're here too? I saw the National Guard out there along with what looks like every available cop and rent-a-cop this city has. There are gang wars and looting and rapes and murders happening everywhere at once. Bruce could be anywhere... I'll find out what the League knows and keep you up to speed. Do you have some way to reach you?” He was talking a mile a minute, but he couldn't stop his mind racing. This was bad. This really very bad.
“Yes.” Alfred produced a communicator he could wear discretely in his ear. “It's programmed to link directly to here if you press this small button.”
“Thanks.” He took a moment to memorize the map on the screen. Current major crimes were listed in groupings labelled 'hot zones'. If Bruce was out there, there was a good chance he'd be in the heart of one of those hot zones. Clark followed Alfred back up into the house intent on leaving the same way he came in. Looking at the worry painted all over the poor man gave him pause. He was like a father to Bruce. Alfred's son was missing, and it was his job to reassure the stalwart man that his son was going to come home. “I'm going to find him, Alfred. He'd do the same for me.”
“I know you will, Master Clark.”
The patter of small feet from across the dining room was his cue to leave. He didn't think he could look into the heartbreaking eyes of Bruce's sons until he found their father. He was already out the window when he heard the boys asking if they had heard Uncle Clark's voice. Alfred didn't lie to them, telling them he had been there. They sounded confused as to why he left so suddenly, Tim asking if he was leaving them forever too. Before a fight could break out over the comment, because Jason was adamant that Bruce wasn't 'gone forever', Alfred placated them in a soothing tone.
“No boys, your Uncle Clark is going to bring your father home.”
Soon, I hope.
Finding a contact with the League was easier then he thought it was going to be. He had decided it would be logical to check in with the police first. With a stroke of luck, Diana stood side by side Police Commissioner Gordon, the Amazonian princess acting as a diplomatic liaison between the League and the police. Of all the League members that he could have found with Gordon, he was glad it was her. In the panicked state he was quickly finding himself in, he wasn't sure he was going to be able to keep it all together. Diana knew Bruce and he better than the others. He was certain Diana had gleaned his attraction to Bruce from the way he acted around Batman. So she would understand why he was this distressed and she'd want to find the lost Dark Knight almost as fiercely as he, for his sake on top of her own. "Kal." She greeted seriously. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Jim said around a smouldering cigarette. "Haven't seen you in the news for weeks." Insulting Gordon by ignoring him or abruptly cutting him off was not an option, no matter how much he needed to speak with Diana. Gordon was a good man and a friend of Bruce's in and outside of the costume. Without Gordon, the presence of costumed superheroes would be illegal, and the police would be splicing their efforts to include detaining the League. "I'm here now, Commissioner, and I'll do everything I can to help." He turned to the Amazon. "Diana... Where is he?" Diana's jaw worked, but no sound escaped. Her faltering instilled an even greater sense of dread in him. For this proud warrior to look so lost... "That's the question on everyone’s mind, Superman. At first we thought he was just busy dealing with the big name costumed criminals that were running rampant. My boys were dealing with the escapees from Blackgate prison. The thing is, the costumed crazies were getting well out of hand and the Bat wasn't showing up to put a stop to it. I've been trying to deal with them discretely but words gotten out that no one has seen the Bat in weeks too. Next thing I know every two-bit crook right down to purse snatchers are upping their ante. Damn Gates of Hell opened up right on my doorstep." Gordon drew in a long dreg off of his dwindling cigarette. "You know, people were starting to not be afraid to go out at night. The Bat had these scumbags so terrified you could almost chance walking the park at night. Now that he's gone they're like kids run rampant in the candy factory, and we're the god damned candy." Clark looked around at the dying city and believed every word Gordon said. Keep it together, Clark. Bruce has to be okay. He's hurt maybe. Perhaps holed up in a safehouse of his that Alfred didn't even know about. If I start losing it right here and now what good am I going to be in trying to find him? "What do we know?" If we know anything at all. "Commissioner," Diana interrupted before Gordon could say another word. "Please, if I may fill in Superman in your stead?" Gordon raised a brow but he relented. "There's more to this then you are letting on, huh? I'm sure you've got your reasons, and I won't pry. I'll be heading back to the station if you need to find me... Just please, find the kid, will you?" "I thank you for your consideration." Diana said solemnly. She waited for the police car to pull away before she even looked in his direction. "Kal, we need to go back to the League headquarters." The Amazon began. "There is something you have to see." "Is Bruce there, Diana?" "No, Kal, he is not... But – " "Then it can wait, can't it? He could be out here in this mess and – " Wonder Woman silenced him by taking hold of his shoulders, commanding his full attention and deepening the dread into downright despair. "Kal... There is something you have to see. I don't think it's safe to transmit the full video here, and I don't want to do that even if it was. I've seen it, Hourman has seen it, and in lieu of Hal being with you on Oa, Barry's seen it... But we need you to watch the video, Kal. You're our last hope in gleaning anything useful out of the footage." "Video of what, Diana?" It was a question he wasn't sure he wanted to ask, but his body quivered weakly on autopilot. "Of Bruce." Her reply was deadpan. Equally emotionless, she levitated, climbing into the sky to leave him no choice but to follow in her wake. She lead him in straight line from Gotham to Rhode Island's Happy Harbor, where the inactive volcano Hal kept calling Mount Justice – much to the chagrin of the rest of the League – housed their headquarters. He followed her like a lost puppy, seeing only the shape of her back and she lead, and hearing nothing but the blood racing through his veins. It didn't help that Diana's heart rate was elevated as well. When she stopped they stood together before the largest of the main monitors in the observation hall. Diana urged him to sit, refusing to play the video of Bruce until he was.
God... I don't think I want to see this. Clark bit down on his lip to keep it too from quivering. Bruce... What am I going to see? What's happening to you, Baby? Where are you..?
“Kal,” Diana spoke softly from where she stood behind his chair. She wrapped her arms around his chest and shoulders hugging him to her breast. Clark got the feeling that she was trying to protect him from an attack to which there was no defence. Turing his head he could see that she looked off-side, her eyes sorrowful. She was going to be here for him, but the Amazon princess was not going to watch this video again. “I'm very sorry.” He words cut him, but he refused to jump to any conclusions. Refused to even think another thought. “This is horrendous to see. There might be something in it you recognise that we can use to find him, and that's really the only reason I'm showing you this. Please Kal, I am so sorry, but I have to ask you to watch this carefully.”
No thoughts. She didn't say he was de... NO! No thoughts.
“Play it.” A foreign voice said.
With a hesitant voice command the computer booted up footage that had clearly been worked on to make it's grainy image pristine and clear. It was technology they had on hand because of Bruce. The screen jostled wildly but he could hear the cackling of the crazed harlequin long before the pasty devil appeared before the screen to call Clark out for not being in Gotham. Behind the scarred face he could see what appeared to be a medical facility. It was old, and made of steelwork. Similar in size and design for a bunker. Made in the first or second World War, perhaps? The details were added to a mental list that in the next moment was completely forgotten.
“Bruce.” He choked out his love's name and Diana pulled him tightly to her. He's not moving. Why aren't you moving, Bruce?
“He claims he's not your boy-toy, but I think he's just a really good liar, Big Guy.”
The sicko stepped off camera to give the viewer a clear shot of Killer Croc taking hold of the the poor, bloodied and abused man that was the center of Clark's universe. Croc's intentions were plain to see, but he still couldn't believe what was playing out before him. Just then... Bruce stirred, awakening to face the reptilian monster and of all things, tried to reason with it. It almost worked... Clark wanted it to work... But the clown's jeers drove Croc onward.
“You raped me.”
Tears flooded his vision. He reached out to touch the screen, wishing for all the world that he could reach in and save his love. That was impossible, though. This video was old. No one was going to sweep in there and save Bruce from this fate. Clark hadn't been here to rescue Bruce, and the result was that the sweetest soul on the planet was forcibly violated again. He barely heard the perverted fuck's closing words. Bruce's defeated cries echoed his own. They were still heard long after the video blinked off.
“I'm sorry, Kal.” Diana sobbed with him, draping her trembling body across his. She cradled him to her breast like a comforting mother to a son... Like he deserved this comfort and kindness while Bruce was out there in the cold Gotham winter, a hostage of murderers and rapists.
No. I don't have time to cry right now. The tears still flowed but he managed to gather himself together enough to see straight, and that was a start. “Play it again, Diana.”
“Kal, you don't have to...”
“I wasn't paying attention to the room. I was being an emotional mess when I should have been looking for a clue.”
“Kal?”
“If that were you or I on that screen, Diana, and Bruce were here, he wouldn't be wasting time crying uselessly. He would be doing everything he could to bring us home. That room is definitely a part of a World War era bunker. That's my first clue. Play it again.”
He viewed the travesty again only this time with a sense of purpose. It didn't make the cries of his friend any less heartbreaking, but it did turn them into a relentless drive to ensure that Bruce was rescued and he never made such sounds of pain and defeat again. He watched as Bruce tried to deny the fucking whack-job his sick pleasure. Blood stained the mortar brick by the now unconscious Dark Knight, but neither the blood nor the unconsciousness deterred Croc.
The brick.
“Zoom in on that, Diana.” He pointed to the debris and she jumped to help him out. “Look. See that? It's a serial batch number for that iron piping.”
While the princess was still becoming accustomed to how the cogs of the world outside of her paradise turned, she did have a basic understanding of what he was getting at. “Serial number means it was manufactured and sold. Which means there could be a paper trail.”
“Which means with a stroke of luck we can find out where this particular batch was sold. We already have a rough estimate of what years this facility could have been built in. It should help us if it's a smaller or local company. One prone to reusing old serial numbers.”
“Yes.” Diana agreed enthusiastically “Yes!”
On his part, Clark managed a tight smile. “Get in touch with Barry and tell him to get the word out. If we find an address from this part number we need to be ready to move. I'm going to call Alfred and get him to use Bruce's database to run the search. It's better then ours, and he's more likely to have access to information on Gotham's industries.”
“Alfred..? Mr. Pennysworth, of course!” She remembered. “I'll radio Barry right now, all right?”
The first break of good news was met with cheers all around. League members Bruce and he worked with only superficially radioed back in as the word was spread to offer him their genuine condolences as well as their relief. It was touching... If Bruce only knew how much he meant to the team despite forever keeping them at arms length...
He will know. Soon.
It was all a matter of waiting now.
***
Ashes rose and snow fell over the very city Thomas and Martha Wayne had devoted their lives to. The fruits of all their love and devotion lay rotting by the roadside or up in flames. It seemed all he had sacrificed of himself in Thomas and Martha's footsteps mattered as little as his parents death to this city. A minor footnote in tomorrows history books. The crime and depravity carried on, examples of justice and a better life cast away and left behind as Gotham marched headlong to it's own demise.
“Beautiful, isn't it?” The Joker said quietly. “The natural way of the world. Light a fire under it's ass as the whole place goes feral.”
“It's soon, isn't it? I can taste it... He's no different then the rest of these zombies now...”
Bruce never asked what Victor Zsasz was doing up in the clock tower with them, certain as he was that the clown would explain everything in time. He stood overlooking the destruction of his home, his back to the two murderers without a thought of the danger they posed to him. There was nothing they could do do to him that would hurt any more then the deaths of his parents, and now the death of their legacy.
“You know, I wished you have behaved back there. That was your last live performance and you ruined it. Now you're going to have a fat lip for the photo shoot later.” The Joker sighed. “Oh well. We all know I'm the real showman out of the two of us.”
“Jooooooooker...” Zsasz's voice trembled with what sounded like ecstasy.
“Can I not enjoy my honeymoon a little longer, you loon?” The Joker spat before turning back to him. “It'll be romantic. Chaos, a beautiful union of flesh, and a touch of death! Mr. Stabby over there will make sure our hearts stop beating at the same time. We're going to die together like I always knew we were meant to. Our epitaphs carved into the flesh of a bonafide prolific serial killer! Think of the press! We have all your caped friends here, the police, the National Guard... We'll be celebrity lovers! Do you think they'll come up with a cool name for us? Batoker? Boker? Ooh! Jokeman!”
I can't believe this is the last tangent I'm ever going to hear in my life.
“Really, Batsy, I always sort of had this fantasy that I'd be doing this to your corpse, but I want us to die together more than anything else.”
The warm overcoat the Joker had carefully placed around his shoulders was removed and laid out on the ground before them. The cold hardly seemed to bother him now. Certainly no more then the clown leading him away from the railing, falling over him as he was pressed into the covered ground.
“Make sure we're dressed well when you're done, Zsasz. And try not to get too much blood on the suits. We want to look good for our wedding picture that the coroner will take. Now,” His attention was once again returned to Bruce. He felt cold metal slip onto his ring finger before the clown continued. “One last dance, Batman”
Up in the sky the clouds parted, a round, opulent, full moon glittered in the sky above him. It's light offering him soothing solace and beauty to hold onto as he prepared to slip into the night.
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Tears and Rain