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The Revelation	By : HeyBats Category: DC Verse Cartoons > Justice League Views: 17695 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author’s Note: Though my disclaimer at the beginning of this story cited this ficlet as a alternate universe/ending for the JLU cartoon, I realized in Chapters 1 and 2 that I’d mixed some continuity between the animated and comic worlds. Lucius Fox, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Dick Grayson’s life in Bludhaven are comic origin while the rest of the story is cartoon origin. Writer’s privilege allows me to mix and match as I please, however I wanted to admit the inconsistency sooner rather than later. HB

Chapter 3 – Usher

Diana and Batman emerged from the Cave and immediately found Alfred scurrying through the Great hall. He was simultaneously hen-pecking a duo of burly movers to exercise greater care as they moved an antique buffet table through the Great Hall while wrapping a Ming Dynasty porcelain vase in bubble wrap. Uncomfortable carrying such a heavy load but more irritated that an English butler was nipping at their heels like a Scottish Terrier, the men’s jaws dropped in shock when Wonder Woman and Batman emerged from behind the grandfather clock. Shocked by the sudden appearance of the two superheroes from the passageway, the movers dropped the table on cue. Only Diana’s quick reaction to prop up the table saved the men from crushing their toes.

“Be careful with that,” Diana instructed grimly, “It’s probably older than the two of you combined.” Alfred’s head swiveled in her direction, grateful somebody else appreciated the fragility of the antiques. Diana quickly set about instructing the men how to best pick up the table. Used to constant oversight from their foreman, Diana’s officious tone immediately resonated with the two men. They quickly snapped to attention, re-established their grips, then carried the table past the two superheroes, slack-jawed that the rumors about the identity of the homeowner turned out to be true.

Batman’s eyes squinted darkly behind the cowl, surveying the swath of movers preparing the furniture for storage. His eyes settled on one of the men surreptitiously hiding in the shadows while he removed a gilded candle sconce from the wall. The man had just secured the piece inside his jacket when a dark shadow loomed behind him. The mover’s eyes suddenly went white with fear, however Batman only held out a gauntlet, demanding its return. The man hesitated, formulating a number of excuses before he finally admitted his intentions. “Thought I’d sell it on E-bay.” He whispered meekly. “It might pay for my ten-year old’s braces.”

Batman dropped the guantlet, then leaned forward until the beak of his cowl was almost touching the man’s nose, then menacingly growled, “Keep it, but no more looting. In fact, I’m putting you in charge of the ‘no looting committee.’ If I find anything else missing from the Manor, I’ll find you. You don’t want me to have to come find you, do you?”

The man quietly shook his head in fright, then scurried down the hallway to resume moving a chair strapped to a dolly.

Satisfied that the work was progressing as well as could be expected, Batman spun on his heels then set off out the back door, heading to the stables. Diana matched his stride, wondering where he was going, then nodded with understanding when they arrived at his intended destination. They started throwing open the stable doors to release the half dozen Arabians he’d maintained at the Manor for appearances sake, most of which were offspring of the original horses his mother had insisted his father buy when Bruce was a child.

The horses needed no encouragement and all ran for the large pasture south of the estate, farthest away from the prying eyes of the press.

“Will they be safe?” Diana wondered aloud.

“Should be,” Batman replied with an indifferent shrug, “There’s a groomsman who comes by every morning to take care of them.” Not pausing to watch the horses, he strode away without another word. Exasperated that he could find no beauty watching the majestic animals gallop out to the pasture, Diana took a moment to admire the horses enjoy their romp before quietly trudging after him.

She followed him to the garage and found Lantern and Superman impatiently waiting next to their new cars. A car carrier had blocked thegarage door, leaving the two superheroes with no choice but to either punch a large hole in the roof (initially an attractive option) or to wait quietly while the valets loaded the cars onto the carrier. Lantern and Superman had decided on a third alternative, loading the cars onto the carrier themselves. The two were waiting for the driver to secure the safety straps and chains which secured the cars onto the platform. Batman had disappeared into the recesses of the garage. With nothing to occupy her time, Diana elected to wait with her teammates, idly staring as the last of the straps were secured.

As Batman had predicted, Superman had indeed opted for the 57’ Bentley. Lantern had chosen a 64’ 427 Shelby Cobra. Both men were leaning against their new cars, grinning from ear to ear with pride over their newly prized possessions.

“You’re not really going to take those cars, are you?” Diana asked in disbelief.

Both men gave an embarrassed shrug but had no response. Ignoring their silent rebuff, Diana decided to try a different tack, approaching Superman directly so that he couldn’t ignore her any longer.

“I never took you for much of a car enthusiast.” She noted, prodding him to explain his irrational behavior.

Realizing that she wasn’t going to give up on the matter so easily, Superman finally returned her gaze. “Cars like these are more works of art than transportation. When I was a kid growing up in Kansas, I used to help my dad fix our pickups. I probably got a bit of the grease monkey syndrome back then. When I was seven, my parents took me to see some relatives in Kansas City. Saw a convertible Cadillac for the first time in my life. Until then, I didn’t even know people could own cars that couldn’t haul farm equipment. Since then, I guess a part of me has always wanted to own something like this.”

Diana nodded with newfound appreciation, then listened with rapt attention when Lantern stepped over to tell his side of the story. “My Dad used to work for Ford Motors on their assembly lines back in Detroit. He used to rave about the team that built these Cobras. They pulled every skilled mechanic off the lines for six months to put 550 of these cars together, then as soon as they perfected the process, they broke up the team. My Dad probably built the transmission on this one.” He noted proudly.

The three of them watched the car carrier back away from the driveway, slowly rumbling down the winding lane which connected the rear half of the Manor with the highway leading back to Gotham. Shielded by the pastures and forests on the southern part of the Wayne Estate, none of the reporters stationed outside the front gates had yet discovered the back entrance.

Batman materialized out of nowhere, startling the three of them. Regaining his composure, John Stewart decided to offer his help one last time before departing.

“You sure we can’t stay and help do something else besides stealing your cars?”

Batman stole a quick look at the remaining two cars in the driveway, then shrugged indifferently. “Alfred’s got the movers loading up the last of the important furniture. As far as the cars go, I’m glad they’re going to people who appreciate them.”

“I’m curious, why did you own so many?” Diana asked with a probing stare.

“My Dad was a collector. I was going to sell the collection but when I decided to take on… the mission, I had to have something on which to base the designs of the Batmobiles,” He replied with a wry grin. “In fact, I copied my first design of the Batmobile on a souped up version of the Cobra.”

The three of them did a double-take, then Lantern exclaimed “I thought I recognized that car from somewhere,” with a laugh.

Sensing he’d provided his teammates with an insider’s glimpse into his history, Batman suddenly stiffened and stalked back into the garage, afraid of displaying any more sentimentality. “Enjoy the cars,” he called over his shoulder.

The three Leaguers looked at each other, puzzled why Batman would insist on ruining such an intimate moment, then Superman heaved the Bentley over his head with one motion before clucking, “Same old Bats.”

Lantern and Diana watched him disappear into the twilight of the evening, then Diana shook her head forlornly as Lantern formed an emerald bubble around himself and his newly prized possession. “I don’t think he’s going to be the same. Do you, John?”

“Give him credit, Diana. He’s survived worse than this. ” John replied stoically, then sailed up into the darkening sky.

“But will he?” Diana asked the disappearing emerald bubble. “Will he?” she whispered again before teleporting back to the Watchtower.

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His clock was showing less than thirty minutes before the scheduled implosion for the Cave when he finally located Alfred in the attic. The valet was furiously sorting through a set of trunks filled with generations of Wayne family memorabilia, including birth certificates, pictures and even a family bible that had belonged to Bruce’s great-grandmother.

“What are you doing with those?” Batman asked grimly. “There are more valuable things still waiting to be packed away in the China cabinet.”

“Those ‘things’ downstairs may have more monetary value, but I assure you that your family history is the most valuable thing in your possession.” Alfred replied testily. “You should take care to remember that in the coming days.”

Batman shook his head, thinking that his surrogate father was undertaking a lost cause. “Alfred, you have to let go. These ‘things’ won’t aid the Wayne family’s standing in Gotham. The damage is irreparable.”

Alfred paused re-packing for a moment, then started again. “If my remaining debt to your parents is to become the archivist for the Wayne family history, then it’s a responsibility I accept with great pride.” He finished packing the last of the boxes then nodded at the largest one on the floor. “Be so good as to carry that one down for me.”

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Fifteen minutes prior to the Cave’s implosion, Batman triggered an alarm through the Manor. Supervisors ushered the remaining movers out, taking great care to ensure the headcount was accurate before giving the all-clear sign to the foreman. The movers were massed in front of the throng of on-lookers and media outlets, all of which were bathing the Manor with their high-powered klieg lights.

Batman ushered Alfred out the back, loaded him and the boxes he valued so highly into a moving van, then casually strolled around the grounds one final time, stopping only when he arrived in front of the packed crowd at the main gate. The crowd nervously roared with excitement at his sudden appearance, alternating their gazes between the Dark Knight and the security detail’s removal of more trespassers from the parapets.

Reporters shouted questions over the din, with topics ranging from his motivation to become Batman to inquiries regarding his sexual inclinations, some of which carried overtones and hints of both pedophilia or homosexuality. Batman pointedly ignored all of them, instead staring at the countdown displayed on the LED on his wrist.

The first sounds of the implosion rumbled through the ground, sending vibrations through the knees of the throng of onlookers. The vibrations increased in intensity by the second, unsettling the crowd. A crack suddenly appeared in the face of the Manor, signifying that some of the steel and masonry supports at the foundation were under increasing strain.

Later, onlookers would remember that the entire collapse of the Manor into the hole beneath it started with almost no sound at all. Whatever the reason for the silence of the implosion, the crowd roar grew deafening as they witnessed the center of the mansion slowly sink into the widening crevice beneath it. Without the support of the center, the gothic towers framing the north and south wings collapsed into the hole. The rest folding neatly on top of the pile of rubble before the entire mass disappeared further into the abyss.

Batman watched the entire process unfold with a stoic gaze, never turning his back to face the crowd. When the entire Manor had collapsed into the hole, he turned to the crowd, whispered “House of Usher”, which a Fox News channel boom microphone picked up, then raised a grapple gun over his head. He fired a line a hundred meters into the night sky, secured the line to his belt, then the crowd roared with amazement as a Batwing roared overhead, plucking him neatly from the driveway. Cameras captured the footage of his cape trailing behind him as the Dark Knight disappeared over the skyline of Gotham City.

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Nightwing, Zatanna and Diana were waiting as a group at the hangar when the Batwing taxied into position on the floor. Following the hangar crews instructions with decided indifference, Batman shut down the engines in a parking spot usually reserved for Javelin 8’s. The chief technician coordinating the ground crew opened his mouth to protest the Batwing’s parking spot, then thought better of it when he spied the grim expression of the pilot emerging from the canopy.

Batman nodded to the three of them when the doors whooshed open, but didn’t break stride as he made his way into the recesses of the Watchtower.

“You didn’t tell me the ‘Wing was space capable.” Diana teased with a good-natured grin, dropping into stride next to him.

“If I told you all of my secrets I’d be out of a job.” He replied with a smirk, never breaking stride. Nightwing and Zatanna rolled their eyes at each other behind the dysfunctional duo, exchanging smiles before running into the suddenly immobile wall of Batman’s cape.

Batman turned and glared at the two of them. “Don’t you have someplace to be?”

“We’re here to help debrief you.” Nightwing replied cheerily. “Nice demolition job on the Cave, by the way. I thought torching my warehouse was a bit melodramatic but you…you take the cake!” His smile faded to a frown when Batman leaned in.

“I’ll talk to you in an hour,” Dick’s adopted father intoned. “There should be an extra room for you on Deck 3. I’ll come find you. As for you,” he started, turning his gaze upon Zatanna, “Your help was invaluable. But there’s nothing left for you to help with here. Go home. We’ll call you for your next mission.”

Zatanna’s eyes narrowed sharply, stung that she was being dismissed so casually by a long-term friend. “If it’s all the same to you, since I am an associate member, I think I’ll hang around for a few more days. My show doesn’t start again until next week at Caesar’s Palace.”

Batman was about to reply when Nightwing stepped between the two of them to cut off any further argument. Looping an arm through Zatanna’s, he escorted her down the hallway in the opposite direction. “Did you say Vegas? Have I got a story to tell. About a year back, Roy and I were on the tail of this one mafioso…”

Diana watched the two retreat with a bemused expression, then opened her mouth in consternation to protest Batman had silently left her standing alone in the corridor. She flew after him to catch up, then settled back to matching his forced-march stride down the corridor. “Is the Inner Council ready?” he inquired, still all business.

“Superman should be here in a few minutes. Everyone else is already waiting.” She answeredautomatically, then cocked an eyebrow at him. “You don’t treat ex-girlfriends very nicely.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Zatanna. I got the impression that the two of you used to be…an item.” She observed, searching his expression for any sign whether her instincts were correct.

“Her father taught me every escape trick I know.” Batman replied, nonplussed by her implication.

“What about her?” Diana pressed, “Did she teach you any tricks?”

“That was a long time ago.” He replied, arriving at the Inner Council chambers. Keying his access code (restricted to the original seven members, although Shayera Hol was still absent without leave), he turned and faced her before the doors swung open. “We were just kids pretending we knew what we were doing. You don’t have to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” she sputtered angrily, then her face turned red with embarrassment as Lantern, J’onn and Flash turned to see who was joining the conference. “Just curious.”

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Superman joined the Inner Council a few minutes later. Six of the chairs were now occupied, signifying the meeting was ready to begin. The fact that the seventh chair was unoccupied was a topic they studiously neglected to discuss, even in smaller circles.

“I presume you called this meeting,” Superman nodded at Batman, “to discuss formulating the League’s public stance towards the announcement of your identity?”

Batman frowned slightly behind the cowl. “With the exception of how our sources of funding are going to change, there’s nothing to discuss on that matter.”

“Shouldn’t we make some kind of public announcement of support or something?” Flash asked dubiously.

“No thanks,” Batman replied. “I’d rather get to the matter at hand. As of today, I won’t be able to creatively finance any new operations. That means no more Watchtowers…”

“Meaning you won’t turn this one into another ballistic missile?” Lantern interjected.

Batman glared at him then continued. “…no more Javelin replacements. Equipment funding will be limited to the dividends I’ll receive on the remaining five percent I hold in Wayne Enterprises. I’m guessing the SEC might be conducting an investigation into my past accounting nuances in the interim…”

“Didn’t the funds you took for our activities actually constitute embezzlement?” Superman interjected with a smile.

Batman gave him ‘the look’, signifying that he still carried a piece of kryptonite in his utility belt and wasn’t afraid to produce it, then continued, “…which means the rest of my assets may be frozen for a year or two.”

Flash whistled with amazement when he realized the damage Circe’s announcement had cost the League. “So I’m guessing no more Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee in the commissary? What else are we going to have to give up?”

“What I’m telling you is that the League should start to review other…alternative means of procuring materials and funding.” Batman finished.

The other Leaguers thought about his implication, then J’onn raised the question that nobody else wanted to touch with a ten-foot pole. “Are you saying we should think about procuring materials by force? Stealing what we require?”

“That would make us like the Justice Lords!” Superman stated vehemently. “I won’t have any part of that!”

“I’m not telling the Council how to procure things.” Batman replied pointedly. “I’m just telling the five of you that you may as well view me to be the rich, old uncle who blew his inheritance and now has to sleep in the basement.”

Diana looked at him, carefully measuring his message, then decided to pursue a topic of conversation with him that he’d managed to avoid thus far. “So what are your plans? Relocate to a secret hideout in the Himalayas?”

“Other than what Alfred packed for me in the Batwing and my uniform, I don’t have a single remaining asset to my name.” He replied grimly. “In the short run, I’d like to opt out of any mission assignments which require a public appearance. I’d probably attract a crowd of bystanders like an Elvis-sighting, most of whom would end up dead or injured because they got in the way of some bad guy trying to get my autograph.”

J’onn looked at him sympathetically. “I could use some assistance upgrading the security and engineering systems. There have been a few bugs the engineering staff hasn’t been able to work out on their own.”

“Between that and full-time monitor duty, I’ll find a way to keep busy.” Batman replied with a nod.

The rest of the team gasped in surprise. “You actually want full-time monitor duty?” Lantern asked in amazement.

“What else is there to do?” Batman replied with a derisive snort. “Watch television in the lounge while you demi-gods round up the latest escapees from Bell Reeve?”

“How about you train the League in martial arts?” Diana suggested. “Speaking only for myself, I know there are certain martial arts, capoeira, jujistsu and others, that I would really like to learn.”

“I’m not an expert at those.” Batman muttered, trying to squirm out of the idea.

The League collectively burst out in laughter. Knowing him as they did, if there was a martial art invented, Batman would train himself to the brink of exhaustion until he’d mastered the technique. He scowled at the group, not enjoying the fact that they were getting a laugh at his expense.

“Meeting adjourned.” He mumbled, then retreated from the room.

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The Revelation