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Tears and Rain	By : Waxcrayons Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 13546 -:- 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
- 6
- 7
- 8
In a time as crucial as this, the sounds and feel of his own laboured breathing and the tirade of blood coursing through his veins drowned all his other senses out. His head throbbed along with every racing pulse of his frantic heart. Jeremiah Arkham and the other doctor who's name he had neither time nor the care to learn at the moment scrambled along far ahead leaving limping, injured, and the quickly tiring Batman as the last line of defence between them and their captor and tormentor's gang of thugs and cut-throats... and he wasn't confident he was going to be able to do the job. Still he had to get them out of this place, and he needed to find Sophie Brandt.
As his feet carried him across the damp stone of what could only be an ancient section of the Gotham sewer systems he tried to force his sketchy memory-photogenic, once upon a time- to recall and retrace just how exactly he and the other two prisoners had managed to get to this point. He needed to remember pathways he couldn't take... any one of those could be where the poor girl was being kept. And judging by the state in which the currently feral Arkham and the weeping other doctor had been found, there was a good chance poor Sophie was already far gone as well.
Okay... back to the beginning. Edward left me standing in the room. I took the scissors and the scalpel and that bloody metal straight-jacket with me. The halls echoed... but they weren't paying attention. They were busy... Playing with Arkham and the other guy. Heavily beaten them. They smelled of urine and blood and... God knows what.
That was good, he told himself. Little details were good. He went through the battle as best he could. It happened so fast, and his wits weren't all with him. He recalled being particularly unforgiving himself, and chose to end things as messily as it took to get it over with quickly. He was in no condition to subdue these men without causing permanent damage. He sliced through tendons leaving the men in helpless bundles with the scalpel deflecting and dodging as best he could with the bullet-proof metal jacket. Only...
There were so many... and I was so tired already... I was pinned, my make-shift weapons lodged in someone's stomach. But Arkham got hold of one of their guns. He started shooting. He killed a few of them. I saw the wild look in his eyes. There was no reasoning with him right then... or even now for that matter. I don't have the energy to hash it out amongst the "good guys" right now. I told him to try not to shoot me, too.
Excellent. Every run-through gave a little more of the blank spots a fill-in. Their rag-tag group ran through the only other door in the abandoned facility's mess hall and climbed up a narrow ladder in a long chute. There was yet another hallway quite similar to the one they had come from, but they instead chose to keep on ascending until they came out to the sewers. The facility was a three story complex beneath Gotham's subterranean. Not something he expected anybody else to find.
I didn't even know this existed here... and that says a lot. There were guns fired behind him the fierce echo following that of a madman's laughter. Oh shit... A glance up ahead said that the two doctors heard the incoming cacophony. They ran faster, whimpering putting more distance between they and him. He struggled to keep up, what he had simply defined as the fissure inside his body burning and tearing him apart. Following the two panicking men around one final bend, they came to an enclosure with only a single ladder leading outside.
"We're... saved?" The other doctor cried out.
Arkham didn't waste any time admonishing the fact. He pushed ahead of the other doctor and couldn't have climbed that ladder faster than if you had lit a fire under him. And thank adrenaline or the grace of some god, but the scrawny doctor Arkham hefted aside the manhole covering with barely a grunt.
"Follow him up!" He urged the other man. The doctor stood stupidly, almost too afraid of the unknown. As if the unknown could be any worse than the situation they were in now. A forceful shove snapped the man to his senses. Bruce took a fleeting moment he really didn't have to loose and looked back into the humid haze of the freezing sewer. For a brief moment he locked eyes with the mad clown, oblivious to the thrall of goons he surrounded himself with.
There was something wholly evil... More evil than he had ever thought could be contained in the Joker's eyes. A sickening blend of anger and of all things, betrayal... He shook his head to break the spell and followed the frightened doctors up to towards the light.
...The dim light of old lamp posts.
The first sensation to hit him was the utterly bitter cold. An impossible downpour of freezing rain and bitter biting wind stung his wounded flesh and stole his breath. The influx of such crisp air also left his clean oxygen starved body nauseated and disoriented. Bruce cursed himself for pausing and forced his exhausted arms to hoist himself free, only to pause once more to truly take the area in.
He vaguely recognized the old mandarin signs and hodge-podge buildings, but it was the salty air and over-powering fishy aroma that told him he was stranded in the harbour of Gotham's Chinatown. Miles away from any one of the numerous safe-houses he had set up across the city. He stood there, bare-foot and in the tatters of his under suit in the storm of the century... Arkham and the other doctor were lost in the storm... but at the very least they were away from the Joker. The men still had their shoes and their clothes. They had a better chance weathering the elements then he.
"I'm not going to get anywhere in this." The pitiful words were lost in the howl of a deafening gale, as he stood pole-axed between wanting to fade into the storm like the other two and knowing that he was in no condition to even try.There's got to be another way. Maybe through the sewers..?
A meaty hand gripped his calf, effectively hoisting him over a thick sweaty shoulder. Bruce struggled to get free, but without the added sixty pounds of gear he was usually wearing whenever he went hand to hand he found himself being man-handled more easily then he'd ever admit to. Still, struggling was just about his only option, so twist and thrash he did, freeing himself finally only to be dropped back down into the sewers from a considerable height. As the popping sound and sharp pain attested to, he did not land well. Oh, please be a sprain... He wished fervently, but Bruce Wayne was practically a doctor, and he knew at the very best his left foot had sustained a fracture.
"You almost ruined everything." The Joker spoke in a eerily quiet tone, bony white fingers threading into his hair and pulling up upon his knees with a violent tug. Oddly enough the other white hand cupped the side of his face gently, thumb caressing his cheek. "It's still too soon yet, Darling. The stage has to be set before we can act out on the show. I want this to be the most beautiful blend of pop-culture and true-crime pulp that people like Harold Schechter will wet themselves over for centuries. I just haven't attracted the right audience yet." And just like that the gentle touch was gone and he was tossed aside carelessly. The Joker stood with his back facing him and began to walk away. "Of course, I noticed you must have dropped your coat off in the waterways along here so I'm going to have to incapacitate you by other means."
A snap of the fingers from the clown and he was lifted by one large goon with an arm around the waist. This time he didn't struggle. He chose to lay off his injured foot until strictly necessary. He was being carried back towards the facility.
"Did you know I had Eddie playing with your gear? He's quite tech savvy." The Joker cackled. "He's going to help me reach that special audience I was just talking about. I of course want all the big names coming to the show." The clown waited for him to react. To ask a question maybe or demand an answer. Something Batman would do. He gave the man nothing. "Suit yourself." The clown spat and the rest of the walk was done in blissful silence.
He was carried to what was undeniably a holding cell with a missing door on the second floor of the facility and all too quickly trussed up with chains that held his arms high above his head, attached to a beam in the middle of the room. Once he was secured the Joker ran a cold hand down the side of his body. He resisted the powerful urge to flinch away from the touch.
"Act one starts in a little while, Angel. We're going to have to do your stage make-up now. I'd hate for you to look anything but your best for the camera." The crimson grin he was given was as sinister as ever.
He heard metal dragging along the stone concrete floor. A few of the Joker's thugs had gathered loose metal rods from smaller debris piles, but most simply folded up their sleeves and flashed him wicked grins of their own. Bruce tightened his muscles and braced for the savage beating that was coming. There was nothing else he could do.
***
Far away on Oa...
Clark Kent was relaxing on a slanted rooftop high above most of Oa, staring off in the direction of the Milky Way galaxy. The anticipated tension thankfully was unfounded and the Lantern Corps had been more then happy to show the fabled Man of Steel around their home and even the surrounding areas. His days were pretty full with all the new and amazing sights but he still found times-this one for example-when he was waiting for Hal to finish up where he found himself staring off into space quite literally. Thoughts of recent bat related events predominating his mind. But God, it seemed like it had taken forever for them to recapture that same passion they had shared the night of their first meeting.
Honestly, Clark didn't like to boast about it, but he was the original superhero. He had been active quite a few years before the others had started making names for themselves. More then enough had confessed to him in private that he had been their inspiration. A flattering thought. But he wasn't a team player back then. With an array of Kryptonian powers at his disposal he had never saw the need for partnership. Why waste time worrying about somebody who wasn't nigh-invincible? Why risk their fragile lives? He was ashamed of how he had thought of his future teammates back then. Bruce had changed his opinion of what a simple flesh and blood man was capable of. Bruce had changed his opinions about a lot of things, actually. Not the smallest of those lessons had been about who it was okay to fall in love with.
Ahh... My Dark Knight. Clark mused and closed his eyes. He could imagine Bruce in a myriad of ways. Most of the memories they shared were like a well loved dog-eared book. He flipped through the mental pages all the time. Certain memories were like photographs he mentally filed away for easy access. Bruce poised to throw a batarang. Nice one. Bruce twisting mid-air delivering a powerful kick to Two-Face. Never has that butt been better displayed the when he's winding up for a kick. Oh, and his personal fave and a non bat-suited one, Bruce half asleep on the porch swing of his parent's farmhouse, rocked lazily by the use of one over-hanging long, toned, leg. Can't forget that easy, unguarded smile he gave me then too. They were all good memories, but what he really wanted to focus on was the following events of their initial meeting. Long after the bad guys had been put away and Superman felt it was time for this mysterious Batman and he to have a chat.
The mysterious Batman had had different plans apparently and the rest of the night had turned into a game of cat and mouse. Clark was still impressed that despite all his super speed and super hearing and super strength, that the man had managed to elude him for as long as he could. Their tentative team-up earlier that night had given the Dark Knight enough info that he knew to hit the nearest construction site for the best lead coverage. A good thing Clark hadn't revealed that he was also in possession of a pretty handy infrared vision as well. It took a bit of work but he finally managed to pin the wily knight against a cement column before breaking the infrared vision news to his interesting new friend.
"I'll remember that for next time." Bruce had promised wryly whilst futilely testing his strength against Clark's. "My, you are strong."
"So are you, but I don't think you're going to win this one." Clark complimented. Truth be told, there was some feeling stirring inside him he didn't quite understand yet, but he wanted to. He desperately wanted to.
The Dark Knight let his head fall to one side and staring up into his eyes, Bruce relaxed. Clark chose to loosen the death grip on the wrists he had pressed to the wall by Bruce's head, but he still held them. Bruce didn't fight the situation. He shifted almost unnoticeably to the eye, but the small change made Clark suddenly very aware of how close together they were. How much he was leaning his body into the Dark Knight's, and how much Bruce was reciprocating, bound wrists and all. He released one wrist to place his free hand by the side of the knight's head, and Bruce used his to feel the slope of a muscular shoulder, the ridge of a collar bone, the tendons of a neck, and the cut of a well defined jaw. Clark was sure it had been just as their eyes met then that a mutual decision had been made. He leaned in, Bruce lifted to his tiptoes to make up the small height difference, and they kissed for the first time of many that night... but only that night.
Clark ran a hand or two over the body armor before he grew fairly annoyed with how well it protected the hot body beneath it. Effortlessly, he cracked the chest plate off, and discarded it along with it's matching back piece.
"Hey--" Bruce had begun, but he smothered the protest with another long wet kiss. The next few sounds Bruce made were a string of gasps and short moans when Clark decided to slide his hand up under that dark slinky shirt and play with the knight's sensitive nipples. Clark was on autopilot, answering only to that reptilian brain human evolution explained was the driving carnal force to all the basic needs in life. Bruce wasn't far behind him, as he spread his legs to let Clark slip tightly inside them.
"Mmm..." Clark purred. Still toying with a nipple, he spared a hand to slide up the side of the tight cowl and tore nearly half of it away. He needed to feel what the Dark Knight's hair and skin felt like. An ice-blue eye widened in surprise and apprehension, but he curbed the feelings with an honest, gentleman's compliment. "You're eyes are beautiful." Bruce had blushed, but Clark held back the chuckle rising. An alpha male like the Batman was definitely not used to being given compliments tailored to ladies. Clark looked over the toned body writhing pleasurably against him and added, "You're beautiful." and meant it.
Bruce bucked against him reminding him that he could be doing so much more and he complied, moving against the Dark Knight in a way that brought to mind his high-school past-time. Y'know, the one where you spent the five minutes between class necking and dry-humping your girlfriend against the lockers? It felt so good. He never wanted the moment to stop. However, Bruce made an annoyed noise and Clark noticed that the Dark Knight liked to armor every part of his body.
"I see your problem." He panted wetly into the exposed ear. Tonguing that very appendage he again spared a moment from teasing those responsive nipples to run his hands over what was once a protective cup, now an annoying chastity belt. "I wonder what's under the candy shell?" Clark nibbled an earlobe and cracked the cup right off. Almost immediately, Clark was rewarded for his efforts with heavy sigh of relief and a visibly twitching arousal concealed under slinky fabric on the knight's part. Clark ripped the cowl a little further, exposing a neck to lick and suck on while he got to know the newest twitching guest to their private party. He traced the outline of the shaft a little too long and gently by the desperate moans Batman was making. Eager to please, he took a better hold of it through the fabric and went to work.
"Jesus..." Bruce sighed.
He couldn't resist. "People often confuse us, but my name's Clark."
Bruce spared him an amused but disbelieving look before his features more or less smoothed out, overlooking the occasional sigh and shudder. He managed to loosen his grip on Clark's shoulders to catch him around his neck, fingers raking the short hair there. He urged Clark's face away from the love bites he was leaving along the Dark Knights flesh so as to stare into his cerulean blues. Clark caught the change in mood, stepped in closer until they touched seamlessly and brought his hands up to hold Bruce's head too. Their foreheads rested against each other, and they shared heavy breathing. Their previously frantic bucking and dry-humping slowed into careful deliberate movements.
"I don't care what it is about you... I just... I don't even know." He truly didn't. Life growing up in Kansas said everything about what was happening here was wrong. But God, how could it be if it felt so divine? Bruce nodded understandingly, but Clark could see it in his eyes, the unknown reason behind this sudden lust troubled him. But he still moved with him, still stared longingly at him. Clark decided to leave the matter up to him. He nuzzled the other man intimately and whispered softly to him. "Tell me what you want."
Bruce looked at him intently and kissed him for the last time. "I need more." The reply seemed to shock the knight, but he didn't rescind upon it.
Clark nodded, levitating them up and over to an adjacent smooth uncut stone slab. It was perfectly angled for what he had in mind. He rested the knight down first and lighted down on top of him, fitting perfectly together. "I want to give you everything." He promised, running kisses down Bruce's torso. Superman was no stranger to love. He knew what things women did to him that he liked, and he was confident he could preform just as well. Probably better. So it wasn't nervously at all how he pulled the slinky under suit waistband down just enough for an engorged pink head hidden behind a thin black jockstrap-thank you, X-ray vision-to poke out. He smiled, closed his mouth over it, fabric and all, and sucked.
"C-Clark..!" And that was how Bruce Wayne had first called him by name.
"No wonder the man held off on doing it again for so long." Clark laughed out loud.
Naturally, that had been the outburst that summoned and aging security guard, and Clark had excused himself to assure the man that nothing was wrong. When he returned, Batman was nowhere in sight. Neither were most of the broken armor pieces Clark had peeled off with his bare hands. All the dark Knight had left him with was the faint musky aroma in the air and the cracked chest plate. He still had that souvenir from their long ago tryst, and often found himself simple sitting on the corner of his apartment bed with it in his lap, running a hand over the embossed bat symbol. It was all he had to remember that fire for a long time, after all.
Their meeting had occured not long after Bruce had just gotten back into the country from more than a decade over seas. His return hadn't even been announced to the public yet. He was barely more than a boy at the time. Twenty-two or three... Either was young. Clark didn't know it then, but he knew now that the boy really knew nobody anymore in his homeland and had spent the years most boys spend getting laid at tailgator parties and on hiking trips instead training his body and mind to be a living weapon. But combination of lonely longing to feel another person's embrace and perhaps being even a touch star struck by Superman aside, Clark knew there was some intense chemistry between them. And he knew that Bruce knew this as well. He had to. But being romanced by America's Superman apparently did not fit into the bat-agenda. For the next time they found themselves fighting side by side a year later, this new Batman was far darker, more mature and secure in his role as what everyone would be calling him. A dark knight. Like night and day, it was as if nothing had ever happened between them.
Clark was hurt by that, but he wasn't about to pretend it never happened like Batman was trying to. He started anew, too. Back to basics. He would be Batman's friend. His partner when he needed one. He always made himself available. And eventually, Batman accepted the offers. He even asked on occasion. And they became the first superhero team-up. And eventually the flirting started again too. A sly crack here, and inappropriate snide there. It was gradual and wonderful. Clark found he was enjoying the slow courtship too much to give into his desire to hurry things along. Bruce had made a remark once about their little 'game' and Clark had resolved to prove through action that he was playing for keeps. He always wondered if Bruce thought about their first encounter... Likely not. The man was remarkably good at disregarding things that didn't fit into his plans.
I hope I've managed to change his mind, finally. Clark sighed wistfully. The Man of Tomorrow had a few plans too, and his included one stubborn Dark Knight and his three little birds. He had plans of laying that stubborn Dark Knight down in is bed and making The Fortress of Solitude's name irrelevant. He had the whole achievable fantasy worked out by the time Hal came to tell them they could head back home.
What's that tired old saying? Home is where the heart is?
***

Hidden in Happy Harbor...
Diana had been monitoring the increasing problem in Gotham City religiously since the shoot-out at Arkham started weeks ago. She wanted nothing more then to go there and help the people deal with rampant madmen over running the place. She was dissuaded from it at first, Gotham's police being completely unwilling to work with costumed vigilantes until just recently, when the new Commissioner James Gordon had been quoted saying he supported the Batman's crusade. Gordon's opinion was not the popular one, however, and the last thing the Justice League needed to be seen doing was pointedly disregarding the laws of the people. But still... The somewhat tolerated Batman was apparently nowhere in sight. And the situation was getting worse everyday. People were suffering.
"I know what you're thinking, Princess." Hourman surprised her with a cup of hot coffee. The man was constantly swilling the stuff. "Hal's usually the go to guy on these kinds of matters, but we've been talking and we've decided it wouldn't hurt to go to the police and at the very least offer to help them. People are dying. How can they say no?"
"I'm hope they will allow us. I would hate to go against the authorities when I put a stop to this madness personally."
"I hear you, Diana. Trust me."
One of the monitors before them began to flicker, a grungy static-laden image coming through with exceptionally poor sound quality. It was a poorly lit room. Like a gouged out hospital room from one of those horror movies Etta Candy watched. There was a sniggering voice setting the camera in place. The figure that came into view was a repulsive version of a child's party harlequin. Diana could barely take her eyes off the large badly healed scars that twisted the mans face into a cruel grin. This was the Joker, she realized. The mortal man other villains walked lightly around. She felt a chill in the room... This was an evil man.
"Hello there, Justice League!" The mad clown begun. "We've never had the pleasure of meeting. The Bat doesn't like to share, after all. Doesn't want me to meet his parents or something, ahahahahaa!"
"This man sickens me." Diana spat.
"As yo may have noticed, I've put quite some work into creating a plethora of chaos here in Gotham for your entertainment, but your reserved seats are still vacant. That's just rude! Especially you, Mr. Red-Boots from Metropolis! We're old friends now!"
Mr. Red-Boots..? "Superman..."
"So I figured if you people were too busy spit-curling your hair or shining your gaudy shoes to show up here after all the work I went to to make sure people were screaming your names, I'd give you a more personal reason to join the party." The Joker moved away from the camera so that they could see a limp bloody body being dragged in and left more or less in the center of the room. The body didn't move. Unconscious or... worse. "He claims he's not your boy-toy, but I think he's just a really good liar, Big Guy. But if that's what he claims, then I'm sure you won't mind our live performance. I call it "Batsy and the Beast". The Joker explained. "Of course, this message will be delayed a bit, so it's not quite as live as I'd like... But we performers work with what we got, right? Oh!" The madman exclaimed. "Shh... it's starting!"
Diana heard heavy thudded footprints and wet heavy breathing. A reptilian hulking monster clawed it's way way towards what could only be a critically injured Batman with a dark purpose. She held her hand up to her mouth in horror as the creature stopped right above him, afraid to think of what the 'show' would consist of. Batman began to stir and she held her breath.
"Mmm... Waylon?" He addressed the monster by a human name. "What are you doing?" His voice was weak and hard to make out. "Whoa, wait!" Batman exclaimed as the creature ignored his first question instead it hooked one of Batman's legs from under a knee and easily manoeuvered the injured warrior into a very vulnerable position.
"My God..." Hourman gasped.
"Waylon." Batman spoke clearly, completely alert now. "You don't want to do this. You're a man, not a monster. I'm sure there is a bleeding heart woman out there for you. Someone out there will love you for what's under that scaly skin." The beast paused a moment, but a cackle from the mad clown had the creature set in it's resolve.
"Oh Batsy, always trying to play therapist with us when you're the one with more issues then us all." The Joker's laugh was shrill. "Take it like a man, Honeypie! Cry a little for us!" Impossibly Batman snarled and kicked the large scaled creature back. "Oh? I could have sworn I told the boys to beat the fight out of you! You're breaking character, Batsy. This isn't at all like the last time."
"Last time..?" Batman panted as he struggled to sit up. "Waylon... did you..?"
"Oh, he did." The Clown confirmed. "I told you, it was that primal dominance thing! You never listen to me when I talk anymore, Sugar."
"Waylon..." Batman spoke, shaking his head in either horror or disbelief. "You raped me." It wasn't an angry tone in which Batman made the statement. His voice was monotonous. Lifeless. He didn't move to defend himself when the now enraged monster came back at him, grabbing an ankle and dragging the now defenceless man thankfully off camera from the waist down. Diana did not wish for this great man's dignity to be further sullied by having the visual portion of this travesty forever captured on camera. Her Erebus deserved nothing of this shame.
"Ahh, there we are. I always knew you'd be submissive." The Joker spoke quietly, as if his words were meant for only himself.
But Batman had heard him. The bloodied man closed his eyes and said simply, "I'm not giving you this satisfaction." before knocking himself out upon a nearby broken brick. The room was silent for a moment save for the sounds of the violation. Tears in her eyes, she watched the limp body jostle with each invasion into it.
"Well, shows over." The Joker spat. "He always ruins it! I want him to cry for help, and he's taking a nap on the job." The clown turned to the camera and shrugged. "I'm not going to get in between that however. I apologize for not making this as dramatic as I had planned but hopefully, you liked our private presentation and I'll be seeing your glossy faces in Gotham now."
In the background, Batman once again began to stir.
"No!" Diana cried. "Please stay asleep. Please don't wake up yet." But the man's eyes opened and the dismal, defeated sounds of pain he made broke her apart. As if the act had been committed upon herself. "No..." The creature finished noisily... and looked around. Visibly ashamed of what it had done, it quickly fled the room. Too late. Diana grit her teeth.
The Joker picked up the camera now and gave them a three-sixty spin around the broken semi-unconscious knight on the ground. "See? This is what happens when you ignore your boyfriend, Übermensch. Now you and all your friends better come play with us." The camera was swung around to get the full face of a snarling Joker. "This has to be perfect." And the video feed went completely to static.
"God..." Hourman shivered. "What are we going to do? That lunatic is asking for Superman. The man's not on this planet... What is he going to do when Superman doesn't show up?"
Diana wiped away her stray tears uselessly. There were many more to follow. "He's going to have to suffice with us. We're going to Gotham. Someone will have to stay here to catch Superman the minute he's back on Earth... But I'm going to Gotham right now."
"Okay Princess. I'll call the others." He fellow warrior gave her shoulder a squeeze. "We'll see if we can trace the signal back to the source."
Diana nodded and took off with a running start.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Tears and Rain